When I was a child one of my favorites of Neddy's old stories was of the goddess Freya, and how she journeyed through the world, looking for her lost husband, Odur.

"Odur is in every place where the searcher has not come. Odur is in every place that the searcher has left."

It was one of the stories I had told the white bear in the castle, and I knew it was one of his favorites as well. He would hold his head up, eyes alert, especially when I came to the part about how Freya searched everywhere, even going to the frozen land of the far north, the land called Niflheim, where she came upon a grand ice palace. Freya was imprisoned there, in that palace, and had she not been one of the immortals, she would have been frozen alive. But she escaped, using her cloak of swan feathers, which carried her swiftly through the air whenever she put it on, and she soared along the northern lights until she was safely home in Asgard. She never did find her husband, Odur. And I remember thinking as a child that she gave up way too easily. He was somewhere, I had thought, and she ought to have found him.

I made Neddy tell me that story so many times that he finally got tired of it and refused to tell it ever again. But I continued to dream of frozen wondrous Niflheim and pictured myself traveling there on my white bear. How strange life was, I thought, that it should turn out that I would go to the frozen lands not with my white bear but in search of him.

Sofi's brother, Serge, was happy to see his sister and niece. He and his wife were very generous, giving me food and lodging. Serge said he would find out about ships traveling north, though he warned me that passage would not be cheap. When I suggested I might work for my passage, he was polite enough not to laugh outright, but he did say that there wasn't much call for young girls as shipmates.

I was silent a moment, thinking, then asked, "Is there by chance a shop in La Rochelle that might be in the market for fine dresses?"

Both Serge and Sofi looked at me in surprise. I repeated the question.

"There is a haberdasher in the center of town," Serge responded with a sideways glance at his sister. "But I don't know..."

"Please tell me how to get there," I said firmly.

Serge gave me directions, and Sofi and Estelle insisted on accompanying me.

We entered the shop. It was a tidy, well-kept establishment, and the dark wooden shelves that lined the walls were crammed with bolts of fabric in every imaginable hue. There were also gowns displayed but not many. I approached the proprietor of the shop, a stout woman with a lace cap. "I have a gown to sell," I said.

She studied my travel-worn clothing with a skeptical eye. "I do not trade in farm-made clothing," she said frostily.

When I fished the leather wallet out of my pack, she looked even more scornful. But as I pulled out the square of silver fabric and began unfolding it, her eyes opened wide.

I smoothed and shook out the silver dress, which was just as shimmering and beautiful as I remembered it, and Estelle cried out, "C'est magnifique, Rose!"

"I did not realize ... I am very sorry if ... It is very nice indeed," the proprietor stammered, her manner suddenly fawning. "I should be very glad to buy it from you."

Sofi helped me bargain with the woman, for I was unsure of the value of the Fransk coins that she offered. And I came away feeling very rich, although Sofi claimed that the woman should have paid even more.

We returned to Serge's house, and Estelle told him all about the "magnifique"dress.

"What have you learned about ships traveling north?" I asked Serge.

"There are only two," he said. "One is a run-down vessel with a poor excuse for a captain. Not something for you even to consider," he said with a frown. "The other, however, is a Portuguese caravel helmed by a captain named Contarini. Captain Contarini has a very fine reputation. He is said to be a bit on the stern side but an excellent seaman. And Contarini is willing to take you to Tonsberg, although the cost will be high."

I was disappointed; Tonsberg was a port town at the southern end of Njord. I had hoped to find a ship going farther north.

"What about the other vessel you mentioned? Where is it going?" I asked.

"I doubt old Thor even knows."

"What do you mean?"

"Thor is a notorious drunkard. He got his nickname because he claims to be descended from some notorious Viking, and he acts and dresses like one himself. Thor's ship is a knorr and it has seen better days."

"A knorr?"

"One of those old-fashioned longships built in Viking manner. Thor's is the only one I've ever seen in this harbor. The only advantage of booking passage with Thor," added Serge, "is that he'll only charge the price of a barrel of ale. But it's out of the question. Pay Contarini's fee, and at least you know you'll arrive in Njord in one piece. You should be able to find another ship in Tonsberg, heading farther north."

I agreed and the next morning Serge took me to the caravel. Before leaving, though, I said my good-byes to Sofi and Estelle. At first Sofi refused to take any of the money I had gotten for my dress, saying that the weaving I had done at her cottage was payment enough, but I made her take a few coins—to pay for the map, I argued.

Estelle gave me a big hug, then handed me something small. It was the Queen Maraboo playing piece. I told her she shouldn't break up the set, but she said that her uncle Serge could carve her another and that I must carry it with me on my journey, for good luck. "To help you find lours blanc" she said. Thanking Sofi and Estelle one last time, I headed off with Serge to the docks.

Captain Contarini was a small, hard-eyed man who grudgingly agreed to take me on board as long as I paid the full price up front and vowed to stay out of sight.

"It is bad luck," he said, "to have a woman on board. You will stay confined to your quarters until the ship docks in Tonsberg." Meals would be brought to me, and that was all the contact I would be allowed with the crew. Serge supervised the payment of the fee, making sure I was not cheated; as it was, I paid Captain Contarini almost all I had gotten for my silver gown.

I bade Serge farewell and the captain hustled me on board, taking me quickly belowdecks. We wound through some narrow passageways until coming to a small storage room. Captain Contarini handed me a bucket, a skin-bag of water, and a thin wadding of cloth for a mattress. "Do not leave this room," he said with a frown, and slammed the door shut behind him.

I looked around my cramped quarters with misgiving. It was a gray, windowless closet of a room. I could feel the ship rocking gently on the water, and that, combined with the stuffiness of the room, already made me feel queasy. Serge had said the journey should take no more than five days. Surely I could stand anything for only five days, I thought. But I felt choked and stifled. The thought of not being able to breathe fresh air ... Only five days ... But my feeling of uneasiness grew. This was far worse than the castle, I thought. I did not think I could stand being locked up in that room for five days.

I went to open the door. It was locked from the outside. Captain Contarini was taking no chances.

I felt a surge of anger. I had had enough of locked doors. Using a needle from my sewing kit, I managed to pop the lock. I picked up my pack and, finding my way with difficulty, went to the deck of the ship.