Late in the afternoon, it began to rain. The weather did nothing to keep the people of Copeham away from the inn. On the contrary, tenant farmers and laborers who would otherwise have been at work in their fields or Islorran’s appeared to join in the throng. Kayl kindled a small fire in the serving room, though normally the hearth was used only in winter, and hung her customers’ cloaks around it to dry.
Bryn arrived with the bench-legs just ahead of the rush. She finished the repair work quickly and stayed for a mug of beer. If she noticed Kayl’s irritability, she did not show it. But then, Bryn always had known when to be tactful.
Kayl found herself wishing for a similar inscrutability. Though she did her best to appear untroubled, she was well aware that she was not entirely successful. Her customers might laugh and tease as usual, but Mark and Dara tiptoed around her as though she were made of glass. With the clear perception of children, they knew that something had disturbed her deeply. Jirod, too, watched her more closely than she liked.
Their scrutiny only added to her irritation, and again she was almost glad when Corrana made her appearance in the serving room. The sorceress had apparently decided to abandon pretense. She wore the full dress robes of the Sisterhood, the same ones she had worn for her confrontation with Utrilo that afternoon. There was a murmur of respectful admiration from the diners, and a place appeared almost magically at the end of one of the tables. Corrana bowed, a glint of amusement in her eyes, and made her way to it.
Kayl sent Dara with Corrana’s meal; she was not going to serve Corrana herself if she could help it. Corrana glanced once in Kayl’s direction when Dara set the stew in front of her. Kayl took a deep breath and returned to her duties. She was busy with three beer mugs when Dara touched her shoulder. “Somebody new just came in,” she said when Kayl turned.
Kayl glanced toward the door. A tall man in a wet, travel-worn cloak and hat stood quietly just inside. The shadow of the dripping hat brim hid his face, but he was no man of Copeham. Kayl frowned slightly; he seemed familiar nonetheless. She handed Dara the mugs and went to greet him.
“Gracious welcome to you, sir,” she said as she came up to him. “How may I serve you?”
“I’m looking for the innkeeper,” the man said in a pleasant baritone that still held traces of a Varnan accent. He removed his hat as he spoke, shaking it carefully to avoid spattering any of the nearby diners. His hair was brown, cut neatly just below the ears, and he wore no beard. His smile was tired, and the planes of his face were sharper than they should have been.
Kayl’s eyes narrowed, then widened as a fifteen-year-old memory surfaced in her mind, and with a shock she knew him. Before she could speak, his hazel-green eyes met hers with a look that held both recognition and warning. “I’m the innkeeper,” Kayl said, swallowing the warmer welcome she had intended. Glyndon shal Morag had been Kevran’s friend, and her own. If he wanted to pretend to be a stranger, she would trust him—at least long enough to hear his explanation. “Are you looking for a room?”
“I am, if you have one.”
“I do. Five pence the night, seven if you want an evening meal.”
“Done. I’d be grateful if you would show me the room now; I’ll be down for the meal as soon as I’m dry enough not to dissolve your benches.”
“Very good. This way.” Kayl signaled Mark and Dara to cover the serving room, then led the new guest up the stairs. As soon as they were out of sight and hearing of the room, Kayl turned. “It’s good to see you again, Glyndon. What brings you to Copeham? And why the playacting?”
“I thought the playacting might be necessary. As to why I’m here…” His eyes dropped. “I… saw something that disturbed me.”
Kayl reached out in sympathy, then let her hand drop before the gesture was complete. “The visions didn’t leave you, then.”
“No.” His tone was restrained, but his eyes seemed suddenly haunted.
“No one could… do anything?”
Glyndon’s lips twisted. “My Varnan compatriots weren’t anxious to assist a second-rate wizard. Particularly a renegade second-rate wizard. And off Varna…” He shrugged. “It’s been two hundred years since the Wizard’s War, and you still can’t find anyone who’ll trust a Varnan, much less help one. I tried, of course.”
“I’m sorry.”
The bitter, haunted look gave way to a gleam of wry amusement. “No sorrier than I, believe me.” He hesitated. “Where’s Kevran? Away?”
Kayl found to her surprise that the old wound could still be painfully fresh. “Kevran died five years ago, Glyndon. I would have sent word, if I’d thought it would reach you.”
Glyndon’s shoulders sagged in a curious mixture of relief and hurt and shame. “I see.” There was a moment’s silence. “I’m sorry. If I’d known, I’d have come sooner.”
“I know.” Kayl paused. “I don’t suppose you’d care to explain a little more just why you’re here?”
“Tomorrow, if you’ll indulge me. I’m tired, and I don’t think it’s quite that urgent.”
Kayl looked at him, considering. Something in his tone rang false, but it was plain that he did not wish to begin a discussion now, and she had customers waiting below. “All right. I can see you’re in need of rest. But if you don’t have a good explanation ready for me tomorrow morning, you’ll wish you’d gone on to the inn in Cedarwell, even if their beds have fleas.”
“I won’t disappoint you,” Glyndon promised solemnly.
“You’d better not,” Kayl said, grinning. “Will this room do?”
Glyndon did not so much as glance inside. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your drying off.”
“Could you bring that meal you mentioned up here?” Glyndon said with a touch of diffidence.
Kayl looked up in surprise that swiftly changed to understanding. “So you saw Corrana.”
“If she’s the vision in Sisterhood silver, yes. I’d rather not cross swords with one of them.”
“I understand.” The Sisterhood had a long-standing antipathy toward Varnans, dating back to its misty beginnings in the confusion following the Wars of Binding. “I’ll send Mark up with something in a few minutes.”
“Mark… the boy downstairs? Your son?”
“Yes, and the girl is my daughter, Dara.” Kayl did not even try to keep the pride out of her voice.
Glyndon shook his head. “Somehow, I find it hard to imagine you with children, though I’ve known of them for years.”
“Kevran sent you word?” Kayl said, surprised. “I didn’t think he knew where to find you, either!”
“I didn’t hear of them from Kevran,” Glyndon said shortly, and belatedly Kayl remembered his unwanted visions.
“I’m sorry, Glyndon. I wasn’t thinking.”
He waved her apology away. “I should know better than to be so touchy. I’ve had long enough to grow accustomed to it.” But his smile was forced.
“I hope you’re accustomed to children,” Kayl said, deliberately turning the conversation. “They’ll be after you constantly as soon as they find out you knew Kevran.”
“Kayl—” Glyndon hesitated. “Do a favor for me.”
“Of course. What?”
“Don’t tell Mark or Dara who I am, or even that we know each other, until we’ve had a chance to talk.”
“If you insist,” Kayl said. His request surprised and worried her; it was unlike him, and it made his presence seem as ominous as Corrana’s.
“I… don’t want anything to slip out in front of that star-sister you have downstairs.”
Kayl snorted to hide her concern. “You never could lie to me, Glyndon, and there’s no need to. I won’t say anything to them until we’ve talked. But that explanation of yours had better be very, very good.”
Glyndon smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She turned to go.
“Kayl.”
She gave an inquiring look back over her shoulder. Glyndon stood framed
in the doorway, watching her.
“It’s good to see you again,” he said, and smiled. “You haven’t changed at all.”
Kayl made her lips return his smile, and left.
CHAPTER
SIX
Kayl returned to the serving room and resumed her work as calmly as she could manage. She could feel Corrana’s eyes on her, and Jirod’s, and her children’s, but she had no reassurance for any of them. She could only hope that they would think her distraction a continuation of her earlier moodiness, and not connect it with Glyndon’s arrival.
Fortunately, the serving room was busier than ever. Corrana tried several times to attract Kayl’s attention, which annoyed Kayl. Couldn’t the woman see that Kayl had no time now for involved conversations and cryptic hints? Kayl turned away and pretended not to see.
A few minutes later, she felt a touch at her elbow. She turned and found Corrana watching her with unfathomable black eyes. “I would speak with you,” the sorceress said.
“Very well, Your Virtue.” Kayl handed the bowl of stew she was carrying to a young farm laborer, collected his coppers, and turned. “What is it?”
“Your new customer, the man who entered a few minutes ago. Who is he?”
Kayl shrugged, hiding a sudden rush of fear for Glyndon. “He hasn’t given me a name for the guest-board yet.”
“I heard him say he would come back for his meal, but he has not appeared.”
“He changed his mind after he had to shove his way through this crowd, and decided to eat in his room.”
Corrana’s brows arched. “He is so wellborn? He did not look it.”
Kayl shrugged again. “He pays well, whatever his birth. And he seems an unlikely person to attract your attention, lady.”
“Perhaps.” Corrana seemed to be speaking more to herself than to Kayl. “Yes, you may be right. I will not keep you longer.”
Kayl nodded and returned to her work. A few minutes later, she saw Corrana making her way up the stairs. She tensed slightly, wondering whether the woman would knock on doors until she found Glyndon’s room, and what would happen if she did.
No disturbance occurred, and gradually Kayl relaxed. The rest of the evening passed in a dull blur of faces and mugs and the damp, smokey smell of the cloaks hanging around the fire. Corrana’s appearance in the robes of the Sisterhood had given the villagers something new to speculate on, and they stayed even later than they had the previous evening.
Finally the last of the customers left. Kayl sent Mark and Dara off to bed at once; she had no intention of suffering through another day like this, and if they didn’t get enough sleep they’d be arguing again as soon as they awoke. Then she collapsed onto a bench with a huff of relief.
“Kayl.”
She jerked at the sound of the quiet voice, and almost slid off the bench. Turning, she peered into the shadowed corners of the serving room. “Who’s there?” she said sharply.
“Me.” Jirod’s form appeared beside the black hole that was the doorway to the kitchen. “I’m sorry I startled you.”
“What are you still doing here?” Kayl said, only a little less sharply than before.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“You might have asked earlier.”
Jirod returned her gaze steadily. “If I had, you’d have said you were too busy or too tired. Wouldn’t you?”
“Probably,” Kayl said, and sighed.
“She wouldn’t have been lying, either,” said a voice from one of the shadowed corners. Kayl turned, startled, to see Bryn strolling toward her.
“What is this, a plot?” Kayl said, half seriously.
Jirod gave Bryn an annoyed look and turned to Kayl. “May I sit down?” he said, ignoring the Wyrd woman.
Kayl nodded. Jirod came around the tables and folded himself onto the other end of the bench. Bryn took the seat across from Kayl without asking, and Jirod gave her another look. “Well?” Kayl said. “What is it?”
Jirod glanced at Bryn and hesitated, then said carefully, “I heard Utrilo was here again this afternoon.”
“He was here, all right,” Bryn said before Kayl could reply. “Throwing his weight around as usual—all of it. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I was worried about Kayl,” Jirod said with a cold dignity that betrayed his embarrassment at having to say it aloud, in front of Bryn.
“I appreciate it, Jirod, but you can see there’s nothing to worry about,” Kayl said. Silently, she blessed Bryn for distracting Jirod long enough for Kayl to see the situation in perspective. Otherwise, she would have snapped his head off.
“I—” Jirod stopped short, and glanced at Bryn yet again. “I’ll come see you tomorrow, Kayl, if that’s all right?”
“You’re always welcome, Jirod,” Kayl said sincerely.
Jirod nodded farewell, a little stiffly, Kayl thought, and left. As the inn’s door closed behind him, Bryn shook her head. “I don’t think he likes me,” she said mournfully.
Kayl laughed. “Do you blame him? You upset all his plans for a quiet tryst.”
“I’ll call him back, if you like,” Bryn offered, showing her pointed teeth in a wicked grin.
“I don’t think he’d come.”
“You’re very patient with him,” Bryn said. “Or is it just my viewpoint that makes him seem overprotective?”
“No, he’s just as bad as you think he is,” Kayl said, and sighed. “I’m glad you were here; I’d have lost my temper otherwise, and Jirod didn’t do anything to deserve that.”
“Long day?”
“Dara and Mark have been running me ragged, Utrilo Levoil was looking for an excuse to fine the inn, and people keep asking questions about Corrana that I don’t have answers for. What do you think?”
Bryn nodded sympathetically. “I think you should get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, or the day after.”
Kayl nodded. She sat and watched the Wyrd leave. She didn’t feel tired, but she needed to be alone, to think. Too many pieces of her past had come hurtling back into her life too quickly. Corrana’s appearance had dealt a major blow to a mental wall already eroded by time and the monotony of life in Copeham; Glyndon’s arrival had smashed it into jagged fragments. Kayl stared into the dying fire and let the memories wash over her.
The initiation court was dark and silent. The pool at its center reflected the pale starlight of a moonless night. Kayl stood beside the glimmering water, shivering slightly with anticipation. This night would determine the course of her future training, and her place among the Sisterhood.
In the covered walkway that ran around the edges of the court, the Elder Mothers were gathering. Kayl could hear the faint rustling of the shapeless black cloaks they wore over their silver robes. The first voice sent a shock of surprise down her spine, though she had thought she was expecting it. “Who are you, that waits in the Court of Stars?”
“I am Kayl Larrinar, Your Serenity,” Kayl said, and her adolescent voice cracked slightly.
“What do you ask of us?” came another voice, disembodied by darkness.
“I ask a place among the Sisterhood of Stars.”
“Then demonstrate for us your knowledge. Who are the men of the raven?”
“The Shanhar, who came out of Kith Alunel and who live now in the Mountains of Morravik by the Melyranne Sea.” Kayl was relieved that the first question had been an easy one.
“Describe the olskla plant, and explain its uses.”
“It is a small plant, dark green, with—with white flowers. A tincture made from the root brings down fevers, if the roots are harvested before the plant flowers.”
“Olskla flowers are gold in color, and you neglected to mention that the plant blooms but once in every hundred years.”
Kay felt herself flushing in the darkness. “Yes, Your Serenity.” And the testing went on.
The questions came more and more rapidly, jumping from history to healing to cookery to sword-skill to magic, without apparent p
attern or reason. Kayl answered as well as she could, hoping that her weakness in esoteric lore would be more than covered by her undeniable mastery of more practical knowledge.
The examination ended at last. A rustle ran around the edges of the court, and a voice from in front of her said, “You have satisfied the assembled Elders of the Sisterhood. Look up, and take whatever the stars bestow.”
Wondering, Kayl tilted her head back. At first she saw only the stars; then, high above her head, a patch of sky began to glow silver. As it grew brighter, shapes flickered within the light—the silver eight-pointed star of the sorceress, the branching tree of the healer, the bright, slender blade of the warrior, and the broken chain of the demon-friend. The glow sank toward her. Kayl held her breath, willing the sword to be the final shape.
The light grew brighter still, and then something swished to earth in front of her with a blinding flash of brilliance. Kayl had to close her eyes. When she opened them, a silver sword stood in front of her, driven point-first into the paving stones of the court. She reached out and took the hilt in her hand.
The sword vanished, and she was holding only a milky stone. As she stared at it, the covered walkway shimmered into view as the Elder Mothers discarded their black cloaks and lit their tiny oil lamps. Kayl felt a stir of triumph. She had done it!
Mother Dalessi was the first at Kayl’s side. “Welcome, daughter,” she said, and kissed Kayl’s cheek. “You are truly one of us now.”
“Harder! Swing that sword as if you meant it!” the drill-master shouted at the hot, sweaty group of sixteen-year-olds. “Come on, you useless children, work!”
“Bitch,” muttered the girl next to Kayl as they lunged and drew back. “She enjoys this.”
“Ritha ri Luethold! Extra work on the exercise tonight, two candlemarks’ time. Cut left! and right! and left!”
Kayl swung the weighted sword with grim intensity, trying to achieve the same accuracy, power, and elegance as the instructor. There was a rhythm in the strokes, and if she could just feel it clearly enough… The pattern started to come together, and she was so intent on it that she missed the instructor’s command to turn and was nearly brained by her neighbor’s next stroke. Embarrassed, she accepted the instructor’s caustic reprimand without comment and resumed her place in the line.
[Lyra 04] - Caught in Crystal Page 5