When he opened it, a round, flat stone sat in the center of his palm. It was etched with words I couldn’t read, the same as the one I’d seen Iri tuck into his vest before Adalgildi. “What does it say?” “Ala sál. Soul bearer,” he said, proudly. “It’s my taufr.” I picked it up and turned it over in my hand. “What is it?” “It protects me.” “How?” “You give it to someone you want to protect. It tells the gods that you bear another’s soul. My mother made it for me.”
