The house was grander than any Kadlin had ever imagined. The peak of the roof stood taller than five men, and great carved dragons’ heads flanked the huge double doors. Torches had been lit outside the entryway, and in the gardens, but the place seemed deserted. “This is yours?” she whispered. Bjorn stared at the building. “No, wife, this is ours.” They hitched the horses to a pine tree at the edge of the deep yard, and Kadlin studied the intricate labyrinth at its center. A couple was just completing their walk through the maze of mounded earth. They embraced and kissed before the tall, thin man—with white-blond hair and skin so pale that it shone in the twilight—hurried to his horse and rode off. The woman waved to him then turned toward the house. She began to sing, and the crystal clear lilt of her voice filled the night. The visitors stopped and watched her. She was so tall that Kadlin thought she would be able to look Bjorn in the eye if the two stood toe to toe.
