The Spirit Stone (27 page)

They shared a laugh.

‘Which does remind me,’ Nevyn said. ‘I promised you some medicinal brimstone. I’d best fetch it before I forget again.’

Wffyn’s caravan was long gone by the time they reached the Westfolk camp. While Aderyn went to find someone to cook them dinner, Nevyn ducked into Aderyn’s tent to fetch the medicinals and found Gwairyc there, napping on top of his blankets with his saddle for a pillow. He sat up with a yawn.

‘No need for you to get up, lad,’ Nevyn told him.

‘Oh, I don’t mind being roused, my lord. I was just bored, not truly tired. In a way, I’m going to miss Tirro. Guarding the little bastard gave me somewhat to do.’

As soon as Nevyn opened his mule pack, he realized that Lord Corbyn’s silver cup was missing. He remembered that he’d tucked his supply of brimstone into the cup for safe keeping, because the dwarven alchemist from whom he’d bought it had packed the yellow powder into short lengths of sausage casing, tied off at each end with thread, an efficient but vulnerable container. He eventually found the brimstone, but not the cup.

‘Tirro, I wager,’ Gwairyc said.

‘Well, we don’t know that for a certainty,’ Nevyn said, ‘but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the thief.’

‘If one of the Westfolk wanted it badly enough, he’d have come right up and asked you for it.’

‘That’s true, isn’t it? Ah well, it’s not worth riding after Wffyn to fetch it back.’

‘No doubt, my lord, but it vexes me.’ Gwairyc shook his head as if trying to shake off the frustration. ‘It’s just too cursed easy to steal things out here, with everything lying around on the ground, like, and people coming and going from everyone’s tents.’

‘You have a point, truly.’

Nevyn laid a tube of sulphur on top of one of Aderyn’s sacks of medicinals, then left the tent. He found Loddlaen standing right outside, staring down at the ground. When Nevyn spoke to him, he looked up fast and took a step back, then laughed.

‘You startled me, sir,’ Loddlaen said. ‘Is Da in there?’

‘He’s not,’ Nevyn said. ‘He’s off looking for food.’

‘Well, it’s not truly important. Val was just showing me her new gem, and I was wondering what you and he thought of it.’

‘Both of us found it very impressive, not that we could tell much about it. It seems to be a showstone of sorts, though.’

‘I thought it was marvellous. It radiates an odd sort of power, doesn’t it?’

‘It does, but what sort of power? That’s what I don’t know. Here, did Val let you look into it?’

‘She did. I saw a light moving in it, but it might just have been a reflection from the sunlight. It’s a crystal, after all.’

‘So it is. But the light moved?’

‘Back and forth, as if it were the end of a rope someone was swinging. When I told Val that, she got excited, but she doesn’t know what it means.’

‘Well, no doubt she’ll figure it out. She’s got quite an affinity for gems.’

‘She certainly does. Well, my thanks. I’ll find Da sooner or later, no doubt.’

Loddlaen turned and walked away. Nevyn watched him till he disappeared among the tents and general clutter.
I’ve got to do somewhat for that lad,
he told himself.
But I wonder if his father will let me?

On the morrow, Aderyn’s healing work occupied him until mid-afternoon. When it came time to leave the disorder of the camp in order to work with the scroll, Valandario joined them. Aderyn insisted on Loddlaen coming along as well. Nevyn decided against arguing the point, mostly out of respect for his friend, but also because he wondered just how much of a dweomer gift Loddlaen might show.

The four of them returned to the spot in the shade of the willow trees and settled themselves in the grass. As before, Aderyn paced out a protective circle. The blue light built up the pentagrams even faster and more solidly than it had the day before. Nevyn could feel power flowing from Valandario to contribute to the ritual, but from Loddlaen, nothing. Once they started working with the scroll, however, Loddlaen read off several of the red marginal notes and had information to add.

‘This one here, number seven,’ Loddlaen said. ‘The note says that ra-as corresponds to our word van-el, the East. Whoever wrote it didn’t realize that there’s an older Elvish word for east, ra-san-ah. I wonder if the two are related.’

‘That’s very interesting,’ Nevyn said. ‘Where did you hear it, ra-san-ah, I mean?’

‘In one of Dev’s songs, the one he does at the day of remembrance for the Great Burning. He learned the song from an older bard who learned it from a man who’d been alive at the time.’

Nevyn began to think that indeed, he’d judged the lad’s gifts too harshly, but once they began reciting the formulae, it became obvious that Loddlaen’s knowledge came from the intellect, not from the deeper levels of the mind that need to resonate with dweomer workings if the workings are to have any effect.

‘Rah-as ee Sal-mah-noo par-ah-de-zo-od.’ Aderyn was reading from the seventh formula. ‘Oh-ay Kah-ree-mee Ah-ah-oh.’ He paused and turned to Loddlaen. ‘What images does that evoke for you?’

‘Images?’ Loddlaen said. ‘I don’t see any. Is it some sort of description?’

‘It is. Well, let’s try the next one.’

As Aderyn continued to read from the scroll, Loddlaen’s response was always the same. He saw nothing, felt nothing from hearing this alien tongue. Finally, after Aderyn had read five separate formulae, his disappointment began to show in his voice. Loddlaen began to describe images, but they had nothing to do with the text or with the work Aderyn and Nevyn had done on the previous day.

‘You’re just making those up, aren’t you?’ Aderyn said finally. ‘You’re not really trying at all.’

‘Da, I am trying.’ Loddlaen kept his gaze on the grass in front of him. ‘I’m sorry.’

Aderyn set his mouth in a little twist of a scowl.

‘You look tired to me, lad,’ Nevyn said briskly. ‘Sometimes simple weariness interferes with dweomer work, particularly speculative work like this.’ He turned to Aderyn. ‘I think he’s done enough for one day. Apprentices need to build their stamina slowly.’

‘Perhaps so,’ Aderyn said. ‘Loddlaen, are you tired?’

‘I am, Da. I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, no need to apologize!’ But Aderyn sounded downright peevish. ‘Did you want to just go back to camp?’

Loddlaen smiled in evident relief. He got up, looked at Nevyn, mouthed a ‘thanks’, then turned and hurried off as if he were afraid his father would change his mind and insist he remain. When Nevyn glanced at Valandario, he found that she’d carefully arranged her face to reveal nothing at all. He wondered how often she’d witnessed similar scenes.

It was Valandario’s turn to try working with the images. Although her responses were never as clear or strong as those of the two dweomermasters, she did receive impressions that matched the translations, especially when one of the formulae mentioned a gem.

‘Well,’ Aderyn said at last. ‘That’s enough for one day, I think, but we’re on to somewhat grand, if you ask me. We need to consider what these images might have meant to the dweomermasters of the old cities.’ He rolled up the scroll and put it into its box, then handed it to Nevyn. ‘Why don’t you keep the scroll with you for a while? You’re quite skilled at picking up impressions from objects like this. I’d like to know more about the original copyist and glossor.’

‘Me too. I’ll see if I can find anything out.’ Nevyn hesitated, choosing words. ‘But you know, that work requires a particular kind of silence and privacy.’

Aderyn laughed with a toss of his head. ‘You’re telling me that you’d like to move out of my noisy tent,’ he said. ‘Tactfully, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Nevyn returned his smile. ‘It’s not so much the noise, mind, as the etheric traces. People come in and out of your tent all day long. They’re usually either sick or troubled in mind, after all, and they leave disturbances behind them.’

‘True spoken,’ Aderyn said. ‘I feel them myself, especially during the winter, when I can’t get outside much. But be that as it may, we’ll have to see about getting you a tent made.’

‘Master Nevyn?’ Valandario leaned forward, and her cheeks flamed scarlet. ‘You could have my tent. You see, I’ll be moving into—well, into another one.’

‘Aha!’ Aderyn grinned at her. ‘So, Jav finally convinced you?’

‘He did. We were going to move my things this afternoon, when I returned, and I honestly did not know what to do with my tent. It’s quite well-made, Master Nevyn, though you’ll want to have your apprentice beat the floor cloth. I fear me that I do little in the way of keeping things clean.’

Valandario looked so happy that Nevyn couldn’t bring himself to voice his doubts, not so much for her, but for Javanateriel. Would he someday be as bitter as Aderyn when his woman left him for her true work?
None of your affair!
he told himself sharply. Besides, since Jav had not the slightest trace of dweomer gifts about him, their bond would be an ordinary one, not the iron clamp around two souls such as Dallandra had shared with Aderyn.
It might be the best thing for Val,
Nevyn thought.
Maybe he can get her to eat more often, if naught else.

When they returned to camp, Nevyn set Gwairyc to moving their possessions over to their new tent. It was small, though big enough for two men, and well made indeed of new panels of deer hide, painted on the outside with a tracery of flowers. They pitched it some distance away from the camp itself. While Gwairyc took the filthy floor cloth away to beat out the dust and bits of ancient food, Nevyn sat just inside the door and enjoyed the relative silence. He’d been feeling a growing sense of irritation with the noise, the clutter, and the daytime disorganization of a Westfolk gathering.

‘This will be much better,’ Nevyn said to Gwairyc when he returned. ‘Sometimes I wonder if these people ever tire of making noise.’

‘No noisier than the king’s dun, my lord,’ Gwairyc said. ‘It’s a fair bit quieter at night than Dun Deverry.’

‘Well, that’s true. They do train their children to sleep in utter silence. That’s one good thing I can say for them.’

‘And the men don’t snore. Huh, an odd thing, that.’ Gwairyc suddenly grinned. ‘I wish I could teach my men back home that trick. The sound of a night-time barracks would probably drive you daft.’

‘Oh no doubt! It’s good thing I never wanted to ride with a warband.’

Every evening, once Ebañy was asleep in his father’s care, Morwen would join Loddlaen to learn more dweomer. She was surprised to find that she already knew the first elements of the lore. Since the priestesses of the Moon had always assumed she would someday join them in the temple, they had taught her how to visualize images and chant prayers in the proper voice, a deep vibration of sound. Instead of prayers, Loddlaen taught her how to use that voice in the small beginning rituals of dweomer. He also told her what she was supposed to be visualizing when she meditated.

Thanks to the Holy Ladies, she already knew that the universe had more levels than the physical plane, but Loddlaen had surprised her when he’d told her that every creature, human and animal alike, had several bodies. For some days now she’d been learning how to visualize a body of light so that she could eventually see some of those levels for herself.

‘You really are making splendid progress,’ Loddlaen said that evening. ‘I’ll wager your gifts are much greater than mine.’

‘Oh come now!’ Morwen said. ‘It’s because you’re a splendid teacher.’

‘Well, my thanks. I suppose that’s somewhat to the good.’ With a sigh he looked away. ‘I wish I had that black stone of Val’s.’

‘Why?’

‘Every time she lets me touch it, I feel—’ He frowned, thinking hard. ‘It’s hard to put into words. I feel like it’s giving off power, like the sun gives off light. I can absorb it the way you’d sit in the sun on a chilly morning to warm yourself. So if I had it with me, I’d finally be powerful enough to learn dweomer the way my Da wants me to.’

‘Why don’t you see if Val will trade it to you? You were saying the other night that you’ve got lots of extra horses.’

‘What a sensible idea!’ Loddlaen grinned at her. ‘Morri, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Here, let’s get back to our lesson, but first thing on the morrow, I’ll ask Val.’

Valandario, however, had no intention of trading away the obsidian pyramid. Morwen accompanied Loddlaen when he went to see if she’d bargain, but her answer left no doubt.

‘Not for all the horses in the world,’ Valandario said solemnly. ‘It fits too well with my work, you see. If it were an ordinary gem, I would give it to you in return for that silver colt of yours, but it’s not. It’s the key to a great many things I’m studying.’ She shot a nervous glance Morwen’s way. ‘Studying about jewellery, I mean.’

That’s right,
Morwen told herself.
I’m not supposed to know anything about dweomer.
Aloud she said, ‘It must be very difficult to cut black firestone like that. Doesn’t it shatter?’

‘It does,’ Val said brightly. ‘That is the reason I need to study the pyramid. Someone managed to cut it.’

Loddlaen kept quiet during this exchange. When Morwen glanced his way, she saw that his face had gone pale. At his temple a vein stood out and twitched repeatedly. She laid a soothing hand on his arm, but he shook it off, then turned and strode away. Morwen stared after him.

‘He does so hate it when people say him nay,’ Valandario said softly. ‘Though his temper has improved just recently. You are good for him, Morri. It gladdens my heart to see him more at ease.’

Morwen realized with a sense of shock that Val thought she was Loddlaen’s lover.
As if he’d want an ugly thing like me!
she thought. That someone would entertain the idea, however, was surprisingly pleasant.

‘Oh, we’re just friends,’ Morwen said, ‘but we do have some nice long talks.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Val winked at her. ‘But you never know what may happen, do you?’

‘I suppose not. Um, I’d best go find Ebañy. He’s playing with his little friend Danno, and they’re probably running Danno’s mother ragged.’

That evening, when she arrived at Loddlaen’s tent for her dweomer lesson, Loddlaen had returned to his usual self. Still, when she considered asking him about his afternoon’s fit of temper, some feeling from deep in her mind warned her off. She concentrated on that evening’s lesson instead. By the time she left him, he’d made several small jests and seemed in a very good mood indeed.