The Black Raven

“My apologies for disturbing you,” Nevyn said. “But I’ve had an idea about that problem we discussed the other night. I suggest that we lay it before the prince straightaway.”

  But the prince proved much harder to find. Nevyn and Oggyn sat at a table in the great hall whilst the pages searched all over the broch complex. No one had seen the prince ride out of the dun, no one had seen him retire to his private chambers. After a long irritating while, Nevyn suddenly realized where Maryn must be.

  “If you’ll come with me, Oggyn,” Nevyn said, “let’s go up to my chamber while the pages keep looking. I’ll tell you this idea privately.”

  “A wise move, no doubt,” Oggyn said.

  Sure enough, when Nevyn opened the door to his chamber, there was Maryn, half-sitting, half-leaning on the table while Lilli sat opposite, the book open in front of her. She was giggling, smiling up at the prince while he grinned back at her, but at the sight of Nevyn she yelped like a kicked dog. The prince blushed sunset-red and stood up. Nevyn bowed to him.

  “Ah, my apologies, my liege,” Nevyn said. “But we have a grave matter to lay before you. Lady Lillorigga, if you would attend to the work I set you? It’s of the utmost importance, tedious though I know it must be.”

  In the council chamber the maps still lay on the table where Owaen and Maddyn had left them, but the sun had sunk below the walls of the dun, and shadows filled the room. Nevyn glanced around, saw half-burnt candles in the sconces, and lit them all with one quick flick of his wrist. Oggyn shuddered.

  “I’ve not got used to that yet,” the councillor said with a small sigh. “I doubt me if I ever will.”

  “My apologies.” Nevyn turned to the prince. “Your Highness, you’ll remember the problem of the Cerrmor rhan?”

  “I do, indeed,” Maryn said. “It kept me awake half the night past.”

  “Councillor Oggyn,” Nevyn went on, “how many years do you think must pass before the royal demesnes are prosperous again?”

  “I’m not truly sure.” Oggyn frowned, thinking. “Much depends upon the number of men available to farm them and of course the weather. There are bondfolk still in the villages, but they’ve been too dispirited to work very hard, and truly, who can blame them? If we fed them decently and got them the seed corn they need, in but three or four years the fields would bloom again. Five, mayhap.”

  “Good,” Nevyn said. “And in five or six years, Riddmar of Pyrdon, our prince’s half brother, will be on the edge of manhood—and able to rule Cerrmor without his brother’s aid as regent.”

  For a long moment both prince and councillor stared at him. Then Maryn laughed, tossing back his head.

  “Oh, splendid, splendid!” Maryn said, grinning. “Why should Riddmar listen to Eldidd if I give him such a splendid prize?”

  “And how can he deny you troops, with you as regent?” Nevyn said. “And who among your vassals will argue with you about it? Gauryc can nurse his disappointments all he wants, but he knows you have to hold Eldidd at bay. He’s greedy, not stupid.”

  Oggyn was smiling as if the Goddess of the Fields had appeared to him, her arms laden with bounty.

  “The long view,” Oggyn said. “Lord Nevyn, truly you’re a master of the long view.”

  “My thanks.” Nevyn wondered what Oggyn would think if he knew just how long his view was. “But it was Maddyn the bard who started me thinking about this.”

  “Then he shall eat at my table tonight,” Maryn said. “When shall we announce our choice, good councillors?”

  “First, my liege, I suggest we get messengers on their way to Pyrdon,” Nevyn said, “before the snows set in.”

  “I’ll fetch a scribe, my liege,” Oggyn said, all smiles, “should you wish me to.”

  “My thanks.” Maryn nodded at him. “You have my leave to go.”

  With Oggyn gone, another matter occurred to Nevyn, now that he had a moment of the prince’s attention.

  “If I have my liege’s permission, I’d like to travel to Cerrmor,” Nevyn said. “There are a few things I left behind that I want to fetch, things that servants have no business handling, if you take my meaning.”

  “Of course. Here, can you leave soon? One of the Cerrmor galleys is standing on the river down past the falls. I could send a messenger to hold it there, and you could ride down and take it over.”

  “My thanks, my liege. That would save a great deal of time.”

  “And what about your apprentice?” Maryn made a slight bit too much of a show of looking away. “Will she accompany you?”

  Until that moment Nevyn had been planning on leaving Lilli behind.

  “She will, my liege. I’ll need her help with packing these things for the journey.”

  Maryn’s eyes had gone cold and distant. Nevyn could figure out what he was trying to hide: disappointed lust. When Oggyn came bustling in with the scribe, Nevyn was glad to turn his mind elsewhere.

  Toward the end of summer in Cerrmor, the fog disappeared and left the weather glorious. In the hot afternoons Princess Bellyra and her women would take their needlework out to the rose garden by the marble fountain. Even though she knew the sun would be good for her, it took all of Bellyra’s courage and a good bit of coaxing as well to get her into the garden each day. The bright light seemed to turn the world as flat and as unreal as the red wyverns she embroidered upon a shirt for her husband. Often she would run her needle into the cloth and let the work lie in her lap while she stared out across the garden, splashed with scarlet roses, to the trees beyond. She could never remember what she thought about during these lapses.

  The new prince turned two months old on a particularly lovely day. The nursemaids brought both children into the garden, Marro to sleep in his basket, Casso to play at his mother’s feet, and Bellyra found that she could smile at them now and again. She caught her serving women watching her, though, and snarled.

  “I wish you wouldn’t stare at me like that!”

  “My apologies, Your Highness,” Degwa said.

  “Lyrra, we’re just concerned.” Elyssa shot back. “Can you blame us?”

  “I can’t, truly, but—”

  “I have a surprise for you.” Elyssa spoke firmly, cutting her off. “I was looking for more thread in one of the chests, and I saw this.” She leaned down to rummage in her work basket, then brought out a book, or more precisely, a codex. “I didn’t know what it might be, so I showed it to the scribe, and he told me it was somewhat that you’d treasured, back when you were a lass.”

  With her first laugh in two months Bellyra took it, a history of Dun Cerrmor started long ago by some anonymous scribe. In the blank pages at the back, however, she had added to the story with precise descriptions of the dun as she’d known it as a child.

  “If we might be so bold,” Degwa said, “could we ask Her Highness to read to us? It would make the time pass so pleasantly.”

  “And truly,” Elyssa chimed in, “it’s such a marvel to know a woman who can read.”

  “Oh huh!” Bellyra wrinkled her nose at them. “You rehearsed that, didn’t you? But you know, I think I’d like to. Here’s a bit about King Glyn’s sorcerer that I used to love when I was a child. His name was Nevyn, too, and our Nevyn is his grandson.”

  “Indeed?” Degwa’s eyes grew wide. “I never knew that! But the first Nevyn—that’s the man who helped my clan keep its name.”

  “Truly? Well, then, we simply have to read about him.”

  Bellyra cleared her throat and began. Her small audience listened with a flattering attention, caught by the magic that allowed her to turn little marks on parchment into words that they could understand. And perhaps that book did have dweomer of a sort. As she read, she felt her black mood lightening; later that evening, after all her servants and serving women had gone to bed, she sat in the women’s hall and read the passages she’d written as a girl until the flickering candlelight made her eyes water. When at last she went to bed, she lay awake for a while, considering entries she might make to
continue her description of the buildings and rooms. She fell asleep happy.

  In the morning the pleasant mood stayed with her so long as she kept her mind on her book. As soon as the daily life of the dun intruded, she felt the black sadness take her over again, but the book had one last dweomer to offer. Late in the afternoon, while she read to her women, Nevyn himself arrived. She looked up from the book to see him striding through the garden with pages scurrying ahead of him and the lady Lillorigga trotting after, unable to keep up with the old man. Bellyra shut the book with a snap.

  “I swear it, we’ve conjured him up!” Bellyra said, pointing. “Look!”

  Degwa and Elyssa turned on the bench and burst out laughing.

  “So it seems, Your Highness,” Elyssa said.

  “And our little Boarswoman too,” Degwa murmured. “How very nice.”

  “Oh Decci, stop it!” Elyssa snapped. “She belongs to the Rams of Hendyr now.”

  “Once a person has been raised in an unwholesome manner,” Degwa said, “it’s very hard for them to change their ways.”

  “Hush!” Bellyra said. “Or she’ll hear you!”

  Degwa arranged a smile and held her tongue. In a flurry of greetings and laughter, Nevyn and Lilli joined them. Lilli sank down onto the bench next to Elyssa to catch her breath, but as always Nevyn seemed full of boundless energy.

  “And what brings you here, Nevyn?” Bellyra said.

  “A great many small errands,” Nevyn said.

  “Ah, I see. And how long will you stay?”

  “Not too long, alas. Your husband has need of me back in the Holy City.”

  “It’s too bad he has no need of me.”

  The words had slipped out unbidden. Bellyra laid a hand over her mouth as if she might shove them back in. They were all watching her, staring at her in undeniable pity, a soft sad-eyed patronizing pity. She leapt up, clutching her book to her chest.

  “Well, do you think I don’t know?” Bellyra snapped. “My husband hasn’t seen fit to invite me to his new demesne, has he? He’s not so much as mentioned my joining him in Dun Deverry now that he has the victory.”

  No one spoke, no one moved. Bellyra felt tears running down her face. All at once she could no longer bear the sight of any of them.

  “Leave me alone!” She knew that she was screaming and no longer cared. “Go away, all of you! Just go away and leave me alone!”

  The nursemaids jumped up and scooped up the children. The other women rose more slowly, but at a sign from Nevyn they left as well, following the servant girls back to the dun. Nevyn sat himself down on the bench.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said. “Why don’t you join me?”

  The tears had stopped. Bellyra wiped her face on the silk sleeve of her dress, then sat back down in her chair.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what? Speaking the truths of your heart?”

  “A princess isn’t supposed to have a heart. If she had a second womb instead the men would be well pleased.”

  Nevyn winced.

  “Well,” Bellyra went on. “Do you think I’m wrong?”

  “I’ve never lied to you, have I? I told you from the first that your position was a difficult one.”

  “So you did.” She held up the codex. “I wrote that down, too, all those years ago. I suppose I’ve no right to complain. It was exceptionally stupid of me to fall in love with my husband. Most women in my position have the good sense to avoid that particular trap, but then, most of them have rather repellent husbands, so it’s easier for them.”

  Nevyn laughed, and after a moment, she smiled.

  “If you didn’t have so much common sense,” Nevyn said, “your life would be easier. You could find comfort in throwing fits.”

  “Mayhap, mayhap not. I’ve no mind to try.”

  “I certainly do understand how it must rankle, sitting here in Cerrmor and wondering when you’ll be summoned.”

  Bellyra nodded, sighed, looked away at the green view, glowing in the sun.

  “I’m also truly sorry you’ve been ill,” Nevyn went on.

  “So am I. But you know, I do think it’s beginning to pass off.”

  “I cannot tell you how much that gladdens my heart to hear.”

  “If my monthly bleeding would only start again!”

  “It will. The Goddess hasn’t cursed you. You have my word on that.”

  Bellyra managed a smile.

  “And I’ll tell you somewhat,” Nevyn went on, “and it’s the very soul of truth and not some fancy I’m telling you for comfort’s sake. Maryn hasn’t sent for you because he worries about your well-being. Dun Deverry’s a grim place, as shabby as a hunting lodge after all these years of war, and the fighting’s not yet over. He told me in so many words that he’d not risk you in any way.”

  “Oh!” Bellyra felt tears threaten, but she managed to choke them back. “Really?”

  “Really. Maryn has the greatest respect for you. He told me that he values your opinion above those of ten men. I know it’s not what you’d hoped for, but—”

  “But it’s a far greater thing than most noble wives are ever offered. I’m mindful of that, Nevyn. Truly I am.”

  He smiled, but sadly. Bellyra rose, holding her book in one hand and smoothing down her dress with the other. He got up to join her.

  “Shall we go in?” she said. “You must be weary after your journey.”

  “I wouldn’t mind getting out of this sun. It’s blazing out here.”

  “I suppose it is. Often I feel so cold, no matter where I am.” When she looked around, the world seemed to have turned flat and pale, as if some demon had sucked all the color from it. “But truly, I’m ready to go in.”

  “That’s what we’ve come to fetch,” Nevyn said, pointing.

  “I thought it might be,” Lilli said.

  The silver casket, engraved with a design of roses, sat gleaming in the sunlight on the table. Although Wildfolk swarmed all over the women’s hall, they refused to go anywhere near the casket itself. Other than the Wildfolk, Nevyn and Lilli had the big sunny room to themselves. Bellyra was sleeping, and Elyssa and Degwa had gone off about their own business in the dun.

  “I bitterly regret leaving the casket with the princess,” Nevyn said. “But I didn’t know what else to do with the wretched thing. I couldn’t trust anyone else with it, and I could hardly take it with me on campaign.”

  “I should think not, my lord!” Lilli said. “It might have got you killed.”

  “Or the prince, worse yet.”

  “Is that what’s made her so ill, the casket I mean?”

  “It’s not. That’s quite another matter.”

  A greenish-grey gnome climbed into Lilli’s lap like a cat. She stroked its nubby back and almost, it seemed, could hear it sigh in contentment. Nevyn walked over to the table and stood scowling at the casket as if he could force it to speak.

  “My lord? You’ve never told me what’s in it,” Lilli said. “All I know is that I can’t bear to touch it.”

  “And that’s a mystery in itself. I put so many dweomer seals on it that I doubt if the Kings of the Elements themselves could get through them, yet you felt the evil without half-trying.” He shook his head in irritation. “But what it’s hiding is at root simple: a curse tablet. Have you ever seen one of those?”

  “I’ve not.”

  “They’re strips of soft lead, hammered very thin—you engrave the words of your curse on it with a sharp bit of stick or suchlike.”

  “What did this one say?”

  “As this so that. Maryn king Maryn king Maryn. Death never dying. Aranrhodda rica rica lubo bubo.” He smiled briefly. “Are you any the wiser?”

  “Well, everyone knows who Aranrhodda is, and the death part is clear enough.”

  “Unfortunately. Tell me, did your mother ever talk of Aranrhodda?”

  “Not that I remember. What I wonder about is the bit that says ‘as this so that.’ It bothers me.
What’s the ‘this’?”

  “Ah, here’s the nastiest thing of all. It had been buried in a box with the corpse of an infant boy.”

  “They didn’t kill the child on purpose, did they, just for this spell?”

  “I’m afraid they must have. He was badly mutilated, too. It takes a lot to shake me, but I was shaken, I’ll admit it.”

  “How horrible.” Lilli felt on the edge of nausea. “The baby’s not in there, is it?”

  “What? Of course not! I had the local priests bury the poor little fellow properly.”

  “That gladdens my heart. How long have you had this casket?”

  “Six years or so. I found it buried in Pyrdon, just before Maryn started his march to Cerrmor. The Lords of the Elements warned me that there was dark dweomer nearby, you see. They told me where the cursed little bastards had sheltered, and I found the child’s grave when I was poking around.”

  “Dark dweomer? You mean like that retainer of my mother’s, the one my uncle killed?”

  “Exactly. I’m guessing that it was the same man, in fact.”

  The nausea rose with a taste of bile in her mouth. Six years ago. Olaen was but five summers old when he died, and he’d been betrothed to Abrwnna when he was newborn.

  “Is somewhat wrong?” Nevyn said.

  “I’m not sure. I’m trying to think—there’s a thing I heard-but I’m not sure when it happened.” She hesitated for a silent prayer that she might be wrong. “That child, the one buried with the tablet. How old was it?”

  “Some weeks. I’m afraid it had been dead for some time, and I couldn’t be sure of its age. Lilli, you’ve gone pale as death! What’s so wrong?”

  “I think the child was my brother.”

  Nevyn goggled at her, his mouth slack.

  “Abrwnna told me some gossip about my mother,” Lilli went on. “Abrwnna came to court about five years ago, but there was still talk of somewhat that had happened when my father—I mean, my mother’s husband—died, the year before she arrived. My mother left the court to give birth to a child. When she returned, she said the baby had died of a fever, just a few weeks after it was born.”

  Nevyn shut his mouth with a snap. He left the table and half-sat, half-leaned on the windowsill. She had never known anyone who could turn as quiet as the old man could.