Chapter 8: Stairs -edited by Don

Chapter 8: Stairs
Posted: July 12, 2012 - 10:42:56 pm

Grandfather took the controls of the Volvo Flyer himself as we left the Burg. He had not said a word until he had set course due north and activated the Computronic, then he turned his seat and looked at me, "You think of me as a fool giving your mother to your father!"

"No Grandfather, you are the best thing in my life. I don't feel alone since I know you are there and know I exist!"

"I do know you exist. I think of you every time I think of my daughter."

He looked sideways out the window, "Nilfeheim is a beautiful world Eric. It is still wild and raw and clean. These traditions we hold so dear shield us in a way from the outer Universe." He sighed and turned back to look at me, "You are still young and what I say most likely will make no sense to you, but who knows when I will be able to talk to you again, and in time my words might become meaningful to you."

I simply leaned forward, all attentive, not wanting to miss a single word my grandfather said. He smiled at that and said, "I am now more away than I am here and I see the changes that have come to Nilfeheim; some are good and some are not. We have virtually no crime here Eric. There is no theft, no robberies and even in town there are no locks on the doors. Nilfeheim still has no police force, no lawyers. The only court is the Circle of Elders. Everything else is dealt with by the clans. There are no seniors all alone and abandoned by the young. These are the good things!"

He pointed his finger upward, "The Union is a great institution and it is quite successful in terms of Galactic societies, but all that exists out there. On the other hand, here the rights of Women, the rights of the second born, the rights of children are trampled upon and personal freedom to a low man in a clan means nothing. Your mother, who was intelligent and beautiful, fell victim to a brute and according to our laws he is in the right and did nothing wrong!"

He paused and rubbed his eyes, "I am on Pluribus hoping to protect Nilfeheim as much as I can from the bad and let in the good. I was elected to this post by the Elders because I was the first who started mining our neighbor planet and they deemed me more experienced and able to deal with the Off-Worlders. I am only free to do what I think is best since no one else on Nilfeheim really cares or even asks what I do. I have been the representative of this world for over 30 years now and in all that time I have received only twenty calls and requests. While Nilfeheim is an insignificant world, we do have a voice. I am exiled from my own world by the necessity that someone has to do it."

"But why Grandfather? What would happen if no one was there?"

"Nilfeheim does not realize it, but it is a rich world Eric. We have commodities that are worth much elsewhere, and the most important is food. The Galaxy is a hungry place and 60% of all Union Species can eat the same food. Their DNA and their body sugars turn the food into energy in the same way that is. Yes, much can be synthesized, but the markets demand fresh or grown foods. We have water and fresh air. We've got plenty of room. Without a representative, a corporation or Company could move in, kill everyone, declare the planet a private Corporate World and exploit it. Of course it is against the law, but if there is no one that can complain or even raise the issue who would miss Nilfeheim?"

"When billions of Credits can be gained, there is always someone willing to break the law, Eric. That is a very real threat and me, or anyone for that matter, just being there prevents that. There are other reasons of course."

He leaned forward and put his hand on my knees, "This, however, is the reason I cannot be with you and must return to Pluribus. I told you about the changes, there is a new Generation of Nilfeheim Vikings in Halstaad Fjord and they starting doing business with the wider Universe. The twenty calls I got were all within the last two years and all from young Neo Vikings, usually from lesser Clans, mostly to assist in trade deals and business assistance, but there are voices that demand modernization and political changes on Nilfeheim. I was chosen by my peers to defend the interests of our world and until I am relieved from that duty I must perform it. Do you understand that?"

"Yes Grandfather, I think I do."

"I knew you would."

He glanced outside and then said, "Are you afraid of what lies ahead? I am sending you to an almost mystical place and you have not asked a single question about it."

"Grandfather, there was no time to ask you anything. It is the second time I have seen you and the first time in person. I would be afraid to spend three months in the Burg with Father. Whatever lies ahead is better, so I look forward to it."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">His smile vanished, "It is true I did not give you much chance to talk to me. I have seen firsthand how he treats you, but short of taking you away and denouncing all our heritage and traditions, there is nothing I can do. I am as securely bound by the invisible shackles of these blessed and cursed rules as I am bound by my word and oath. It might be a fault, this philosophy, where a man's word and oath is more important than his own life. It might be outdated but it is what defines me to the core and I cannot, as an old Terran saying goes, jump over my own shadow. I cannot express how much sorrow I feel when I hear of your fate, as plenty of messages reach me from the Ragnarsson Clan bemoaning the fact that we will cease to exist and many of them give me news of you."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Could you not simply marry again and sire a son? You are not that old Grandfather. That would give you a legitimate heir and make the entire Olafson debacle, and me, a moot point."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"You speak like an old Viking and your suggestion would be quite an elegant solution, but I promised myself never to marry again after I lost your Grandmother, who I loved more than my life. I have already declared you to be my heir, and that must stand."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I lowered my head, "I won't be a good heir! I will leave Nilfeheim and become a Starship Captain after I have killed him!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Eric, look at me!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I did and he said, "You are your own man. It is your life and your future. I am bound and shackled by old traditions; that does not mean I want you to be! I will still be proud of you, no matter what."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">The flyer's Computronic beeped and grandfather took the control. Then he said, "The Faceless Seven are a peculiar group Eric. They take our beliefs, and the adherence to the traditions, even more seriously than the Elders, but they are also more in tune with this planet and know many secrets. I am as much an Elder and a Neo Viking as I am a Citizen living on Pluribus and I assure you even the most advanced Civilizations have not found scientific answers to the most fundamental questions of life and death and the old saying that 'there is more between the heavens and the earth than we can see' holds true even in the fiftieth century."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">The weather outside was changing from clear skies and sunshine to lead gray sky and heavy rain. There was much floating ice below. I said, "You mean like ghosts and spirits, the gods and magic?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Yes Eric, that is what I mean. Now I am not saying that these things exist, nor do I say you should believe in them. I am saying that this Universe is so vast and so big and that there are many wondrous things we may never be able to understand, so keep your mind open. Who knows what you might encounter once you are a Starship Captain!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"You think I will make it?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Of course, you have the thick skull of the Olafsons, the strength and perseverance of the Ragnarssons and from what I hear you have a lot of the stubbornness and intellect of the Hellstrom Clan! I have no doubt you will one day command a Starship if you really want it. When that day comes Eric, I will be there! Be it in person at a great ceremony or be it in spirit."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">Peculiar warmth filled me from deep within and then I asked, "I never heard of the Hellstrom Clan, who are they?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Eric!" he sounded surprised and disappointed, "Your Grandmother's Clan of course! Do they not teach about the Old Clans in Heritage Class?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Yes, but I am not allowed to attend. Father prohibits it. He says it is knowledge reserved for Lords and Clan leaders not for Nubhirs and Under-men. Not that he has plans to keep me alive past my sixteenth birthday. I heard him say that often enough."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">“The Hellstrom Clan is old and live far to the west. They own the biggest private island on the entire planet and your Grandmother looked very much like your mother did. As for what your father plans and what will actually happen, I would not worry too much."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">He reduced speed, "To be accepted as a student by the Faceless seven is a great honor and it is a sure way into the Circle of the Elders. If they accept you that is, there will be others like you; but most of them shovel snow, scrub stairs and leave the place none the wiser. Only a few will be accepted. Don't be disappointed if it does not happen. No one but they know why and how they select."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"I know why you sent me there grandfather!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"You do?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"To be away from father and to have peace for three months."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">The Halls of Hasvik were built into the side of a snow covered mountain that stuck out of the everlasting ice of the North Pole. Grandfather had landed before a seemingly endless flight of crooked stairs that led to a gray, forbidding looking burg-like structure with three towers, most of it covered with more snow. The wind blew with gale force and hammered me with frozen snowflakes, pricking my bare arms and face.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">Grandfather put his hand on my shoulder, "This is where I will leave you. You must make it alone up these stairs and report to the Gate Keeper. From there on do as you have been told. I once climbed those stairs and so did many Ragnarssons before. You will be the first Olafson in many generations to make the pilgrimage. Go up with all my blessings Eric and come down in three months with honor and Mördaren will be yours!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"I will not fail you Grandfather. I will do my best."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">Grandfather stepped back and slammed his fist against his chest before extending his arm over me. "Let Thor's strength be in your arm and Odin's wisdom be your guide."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I turned and started to climb the narrow, steep and ice covered stairs.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I turned after a few minutes and saw he was still standing there, surrounded by whirling snow. The stairs were slippery and I had to watch what I was doing. One could easily fall and probably break every bone in the body. Again I turned and he was still there, much further away now, next to the snow covered Volvo.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I must have climbed for at least half an hour until I reached a little platform hewn into the rock. As I looked back down, Grandfather had not moved and I thought I saw him waving. I didn't feel the cold much, except on my nose and cheeks as I tackled the second flight.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I wondered, while I climbed, why they didn't put more care in the building of these stairs. They could easily have been made wider and deeper, but then it did not seem there was all that much traffic coming up or going down.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">Of course this had to be the hard way all newcomers had to take. The rest would fly in along with the food and whatever else they needed to survive out here.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I soon lost sight of grandfather and could not tell if he was still there or not. I estimated I had spent at least two hours and yet the burg seemed elusively far. I was no longer cold at all, but had started sweating. During Short Summer the sun never really left the sky and it did not get really dark, but due to the leaden sky and the eerie gray twilight, it could have been any time during the day. Everyone on a cold world like ours knew that sweating was a certain way to die if you stopped and let the cold seep in. I had to find shelter before I could take a real break. The only such place however appeared to be the Burg that was much larger than I thought, still far away.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I kept climbing, thinking Grandfather could still be there using Tele Optics to watch my progress and I did want to make him proud. These were just stairs, nothing really dangerous and I was in good condition and a good swimmer. This should be no problem!

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">Yet my breath was going heavy and I wanted to sit down just for a few moments. So I put my head down, bit my teeth and increased my pace. 'Just don't look up. Don't think how far it still is', I said to myself and kept on.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I was sure I had climbed now for the better part of 5 hours up the zig-zaging flights of narrow stairs, up between steep rock walls, when I reached a landing where I met another person! An old man dressed like a Low-man, only in linen and no leather or fur. He was meagre looking and struggled with a load of soak-stones on his back. I was more than shocked to see him in bare feet. Whatever Clan he belonged to, it must have been either a very poor or a very cruel clan to treat their Low-man like that, "Hail Old man! You've came a long way with all that Soak-stone! Do you know how much further it is to those Halls?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">He turned, "I am afraid this is as far as Odin lets me go, young man. I must deliver these soak stones, as my lord decreed. He would donate them to the Faceless Seven and the Temple of Odin, but I am at the end of my strength."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Judging how far you have come, I say Odin blessed you with great endurance even in your advanced age. Your Clan chief should have flown it up there instead of sending you! Let me help you with it. I think I've still got some left in me. It can't be that much further."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"No one is allowed to fly up there, at least not by means of the Off Worlder's technology. Everything they need has to be carried, and carried it is, by those who wish the blessing of the Gods, but some think it can be delegated and they will still receive the blessing if the gift is large enough."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"I wish I had Freya's Cloak as well Old Man!" I grabbed his sack and it was indeed heavy and it deepened my respect for the Old man to have even made it that far.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">He said, "Thank you young lord. I will wait here."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"No you can't wait here. If you stay too long you will freeze to death. Your Clan chief failed to equip you as well."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"I can't go another step!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">He collapsed to the stairs. He had his eyes closed and was breathing very shallowly. He looked frailer than I realized, "Well I guess they can live without the Soak-stones for a while. We need to get you up there, fast!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">As frail as he was, he was a grown man and I was turning fourteen in three months, but he got up, leaned heavily on me, and we went on. He grew heavier, it seemed, and he lamented leaving the soak stones behind and the punishment he would receive for not delivering them.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I did not have much breath left to answer but I said, "Don't worry I'll go and get them, but you need to get inside, or all the punishment of your Clan Chief is going be dished out to a corpse."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">While I was praying to Thor for more strength, or maybe that he would use his hammer to smash those cursed stairs, I dragged him on. He felt cold and I wondered what kind of Clan chief would send an old man like that on an errand like this.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">Certainly my father would be delighted to send me up and down these stairs if he knew about them. Whenever I was thinking of my father, fear, anger and a cauldron-brew of emotions gave me some extra push. I could not tell how long we had walked, but I hoped the Faceless Seven had some hot water in their kitchen and a bed somewhere as we finally reached a metal door set into a wall partially hewn out of the rock of the mountain and partially built with large square-hewn boulders. Really old burgs had sometimes parts that were made like this and not out of Duro Crete, much of our basements, dungeons and undercrofts were built that way.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">The door looked massive and there was no view-port or window anywhere. The stairs had ended in a short narrow path leading to that two-man high door. To the left the sheer wall of the mountain and to the right the chasm down the mountain. I could see much of the zig-zagging stairs from here.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Have you been up here before? Is there a special ritual or way to gain entrance?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">The old man blinked, "We made it, but I am still doomed. I am here without the soak-stones! I most certainly will be flailed! Our Clan Chief is easy to anger and quick with his war bludgeon!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"I gave you my word! I will go and get them, but you need to get inside and that is what I will try do to."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I eased him to the ground and gave him my fur vest. The wind felt even colder but he was all skin and bones and had even fewer defenses.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I banged with my hand against the door, but doing it I felt how thick the metal must have been as it did not vibrate or make much of a sound at all, "No one is going to hear that!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I yelled as loudly as I could but even after seven Hellos's there was no reaction.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">The old man huddled into my vest and said, "The Soak-stones are drenched, that is why the sack is so heavy. We could borrow one or two and light a fire. They might see that."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Alright. I'll try to be quick but it will be several hours. Don't die on me and try to move around. Don't stay too long on the ground!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Yes young Master.” He held me by the hand, "What is your name and of what Clan are you?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"I am Eric and I am of the Olafson clan."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I then left and went back down and wondered what a fool's errand the whole thing was and why there was a door and no one to open it. While I was sure Grandfather meant well sending me here, and it still beat the prospect of staying at home, especially after he was sent into a rage by Grandfather, but maybe those Seven Guys were dead and gone. Since they had been there when Grandfather came up here, they must have been either real old or it was some sort of office that was passed on and they didn't find anyone to pass it on to. Maybe the burg was abandoned.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">At first I thought going down the stairs would be easier, but going down the icy narrow steps turned out to be far more dangerous and I had to go slowly and carefully.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">When I finally reached the landing where we had left the sack, my legs trembled uncontrollably and it took me long moments to get myself under control. Going up seemed almost like a blessing despite the heavy sack, but then it contained life saving warmth for me and the old man. If I remembered my local geography lesson correctly, which I was regretting now not getting via Cerebral Upload, there was a small town to the east on the Ice. How far to the east I could not even guess; if the Burg here turned out to be abandoned. I had to take the old man there somehow. There was no other settlement I knew of up here on the ice of the northern pole of our planet.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">The prospect of trekking across the ice with nothing but a sack of soak stones that would not last very long and no weapon to forage for food or defend against Fangsnappers was another means of committing suicide.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I truly could not feel my legs and had no idea how I actually managed it, but I reached the top and the Old man was gone! I dropped the sack. The only place he could have gone was down! I glared over the ledge but as far as I could see there was no shattered body.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Young Lord may I ask what you are doing there, leaning so close to the dangerous ledge?" a Voice asked.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I turned and the old man stood next to me. "I thought you fell, Old man! I brought your soak stones! Where have you been? There is no place to hide here."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Silly boy, There are the Halls of course. How can you overlook a Burg so big and yes, the door is open!"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I was exhausted and just waved at the bag, "There are your soak-stones and now we better get you in. Maybe there is someone inside able to provide you with shoes and a bed till you have to climb down again to meet that cursed Clan Chief of yours."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Yes let us go inside so you can find your bed. It is not much compared to the luxuries a Clan chief's first born is accustomed too, but after climbing these steps up and down I am sure you will find it adequate, at least for tonight."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">He did wear boots now, as I suddenly noticed, and he no longer limped or walked bent over. He still looked old but neither sick nor exhausted, "You aren't a Lowman! Am I right?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"Did not Odin often use disguises to test other Aseir?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"The last time I heard a story of the Gods was when I was five and my father killed my mother!" I glared at him and said, "You are one of the Faceless I presume?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">He did not answer but walked to the open steel door and I followed. Just before I was about to walk through he said, "Don't you want to bring the soak stones in?"

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I turned back to get the sack and the door closed right behind me, but I heard his voice, "Try to stay alive tonight. This door only opens for four hours every day to visitors. If you are alive tomorrow you will be allowed inside."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">He was lucky he was behind that steel door of his; I would otherwise have tried to twist his head off his thin neck. I was angry and felt like a pawn in a game over which I had no control. Grandfather wanted me here; whoever was inside that old place did not, playing tricks and games with me. There was no way I would survive a night up here. Not that there was an actual night, the light would stay pretty much the same, but the temperatures were below freezing. Not as cold as during Longnight, but cold enough to kill an unprotected human after extended exposure. What a fool I was giving that old man my jacket. Helping him with his cursed sack!

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I opened the bag. There were indeed six oil-soaked stones; actually some sort of fossilized plant or animal of Nilfeheim's prehistoric past. I realized that I had no tools with me. I had arrived here in the same clothing I had on when I left school. No knife, no tools and now even without my Fanger-fur vest; there was no way for me to make fire, to light the Stones and release their warmth. I took them out anyway.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">The sack was tightly woven and, from the looks of it, made from the old fabric the women on Nilfeheim used to make from the fibres of a sea-weed leaf. No one I knew, not even on our burg, still made fabrics that way and instead used imported fabrics and in town folks like Ygral would even buy their clothing ready-made at stores. To my surprise the sack did contain a heavy bladed hunter's knife in a sheath.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">Probably for me to knife myself. I knew how to strike a spark and make fire. This was a skill everyone on Nilfeheim was taught from early on, but there was no way I could get Tyranno oil, at these temperatures, started with a spark! I used the knife to cut a hole in the sack and used it as a simple coat.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">My fingers started to get really cold, but the knife was razor sharp and I used it to shave fibres from the sack into fine fluff. Along with a few wrappers of sparkle-bright gum I found in my pocket, shredded to fine bits so I had enough tinder. Finding a loose suitable rock was more of a challenge then I had thought, but I finally found one not too far from that cursed door and pried it loose from the frozen ground. I almost gave up. I struck the rock with the knife to create sparks. I had seen Greifen do it before and the rock he used looked very much like this rock. I wanted to cry and realized the even colder sensation in my face was from tears, but then a spark lit and it lasted for only an eye blink.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I tried again and again until one spark fell into the bed of fine shaved dry fibres and bits of wrapper paper, it lingered perhaps a heartbeat longer and one of the fibres turned black. There was a tiny whiff and I smelled it! It was smoke. The sweetest most delicious scent I had ever smelt barely registered in my running nose: Smoke!

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">More carefully than a mother would kiss her new born I breathed gently onto the glimmer. It became stronger and my heart jumped. A drop from my nose almost killed my efforts but, due to sheer luck, it fell next to the kindling, and there it was, a flame. It now spread quickly across the kindling and I frantically searched my pockets for anything that was flammable and I cursed myself for not having done that before. I cut a strip off the sack, it took to the almost dying flame now and now I was able to set it to a soak stone. Hoping it would warm the oil, last long enough to catch and it did!

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">Hastily, I set up two more soak-stones and huddled as closely as I could to them and the mere sight of the orange flames now taking into the soak stones seemed to warm me a little already. In all this I wondered how many boys of my age in the entire Galactic Union had to make fire like this to stay warm. I was sure I was the only one and I cursed every bad foul mouthed curse I had heard from Greifen, but it made me feel better.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"I see the Olafson clan takes great care that even their young now know pretty much every bad word we have in our language!" the Old man said, suddenly standing behind me.

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">I was so startled by his sudden appearance that I drew the knife, more out of reflex than anything else, "I would have a few choice words for you as well, Old Man, but I promised my Grandfather not to fail him, and I shall not! You play your games then, Old Man, and I will do my best."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">"You speak strangely for a boy of your age, I must say. You've kindled my interest. So I say you can come in and I'll let the other boys clean up out here. You did ruin a perfectly good fiber sack, but then I got your nice Snapper-fur vest."

<p style="margin-top: 0.49cm; margin-bottom: 0.49cm">He turned and walked to the now open door again. Then he turned and waved, "I said you can come in now, Young Olafson."