Raven Ring

by Patricia C. Wrede

  Letting go of his mother’s hand, Drioren stepped forward and bowed. He kept his solemn dark eyes fixed on Eleret’s face the whole time, which made the movement awkward, but Eleret managed not to smile. “Welcome, Freelady,” he said.

  “I thank you for your courtesy,” Eleret replied, as she would have in the mountains. “May your welcome bring strength to us both.”

  “As you will have it,” the boy responded, though he was plainly unsure that this was the right thing to say. Eleret smiled encouragingly, and Drioren relaxed. “You aren’t from Ciaron, are you? Where do you come from?”

  “I’m Cilhar,” Eleret told him. Daner’s polite introduction had seen to it that the adults all knew her origins; there was no point in hiding them from the child. “I come from the Mountains of Morravik.”

  “Really?” The boy’s eyes grew wide. “Where they have dragons and Varnan wizards and Wyrds and everything?”

  “I’ve never seen a dragon, and as far as I know there are no Wyrds living in the mountains,” Eleret said. “We don’t have many wizards, either. It takes time to study magic, and none of us have much to spare.”

  Drioren’s face fell. “No wizards?”

  “Not now, and not recently. But one of my great-great-grandmothers was a Varnan and a wizard.”

  “Will you tell me about her?” Drioren asked, tucking his hand confidently into Eleret’s.

  Eleret glanced at Lady Laurinel, who smiled and shook her head. “Not right now,” Eleret said.

  “First we must show Freelady Salven her room,” Laurinel added.

  “Oh, that’s right. It’s a duty.” Drioren did not seem at all upset, and Eleret gave an approving nod. Whatever else the Ciaronese did or did not do, this child at least was being taught a proper regard for duty.

  Halfway down the hall, Laurinel opened a door and gestured Eleret inside. “I hope this will do, Freelady.”

  “It will be fine,” Eleret said. The chamber was nearly as large as the front room at home, with a wide bed piled with pillows, two spindly chairs and a matching round table, a long, high table underneath a window, and a fireplace set in the outer wall. The air smelled faintly of old smoke and damp stone, like a storage room that had gone unopened for a month. A thick rug covered the floor in the center of the room, and a pair of black iron tongs leaned against the stone wall next to the fireplace. She looked more closely and saw that the handle end was shaped like a bird’s head. She smiled slightly, tightening her right hand around the raven ring, and suddenly felt more comfortable.

  “Good,” said Drioren. “Now will you tell me a story?”

  “If it’s all right with your mother—”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind, Freelady?” Laurinel said in a worried tone.

  “I have two youngers at home, a sister and a brother,” Eleret said. “I like children.” She set her kit bags on the dainty-looking table where she could see them and gingerly lowered herself into one of the chairs. It was more comfortable than it looked. “What kind of story would you like to hear?” she asked Drioren.

  ELEVEN

  DRIOREN GAVE ELERET A bright smile and plopped down on the rug in front of her. “Tell me an old story, please.”

  “All right,” Eleret said. “Long, long ago, when three moons hung in the sky and all the races were one race, there lived a man—”

  “That’s not right,” Drioren broke in. “Old stories are supposed to start, ‘A long time past, when the great gray ships sailed east to harbor…’”

  His mother shook her head reprovingly at him, but Eleret smiled. “Those are your stories,” she told him. “Where I come from, the oldest stories begin differently.”

  Drioren frowned, considering this. “But it sounds funny.”

  “That’s because you’ve never heard my story before.”

  The frown lasted a few seconds more, then Drioren nodded. “All right, but if I don’t like it you have to tell me another one.”

  “Oh, no,” Eleret said, fighting a desire to laugh. Until he was ten, Jiv had tried the same trick every night to delay his bedtime. It had never worked, but that hadn’t stopped him. “You asked for one story, and one is all you get. And all you said was that you wanted an old story, so the rest is my choice to tell. Take it or go hungry.”

  “But—”

  “One story, or none at all. Which do you want?”

  “One story, please,” Drioren said with a resigned sigh. “You’re mean.”

  “Thank you.” Eleret suppressed another smile at the boy’s startled look, and began again. “Long, long ago, when three moons hung in the sky…”

  She told the story of Nirrit, who could change his skin to become like any creature on Lyra but who was never satisfied with any of his forms, and his patient son Suranel, who had to find stranger and stranger new shapes for his father to change into. While Eleret talked, Lady Laurinel moved about the room, prodding pillows, looking with disapproval at the cold hearth, and occasionally casting an indecipherable glance at Eleret.

  When the story ended, Drioren gave Eleret a wide smile. “That was good. Do you know any more stories?”

  “Yes, but I am not going to tell them to you now,” Eleret said.

  “Freelady Salven wants to rest before dinner,” Lady Laurinel added. “And you are—”

  The door opened, revealing the gaunt woman. She carried an enormous silver washbasin and jug, and she had a towel draped over one arm. She marched in and set her burden on the table below the window, then nodded stiffly to Lady Laurinel. “If there’s nothing more, my lady, the young lord and I will leave you now.”

  “When you pass the waiting hall, send someone here to lay a fire,” Laurinel said, waving at the empty fireplace. “At once.”

  “I’d rather be left to myself,” Eleret said quickly. The room was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and she had been looking forward to having some time alone to think.

  “Then that will be all, Jakella. I will come and see you tonight, Drioren, before your bedtime.”

  The gaunt woman gave Lady Laurinel a sour look, as if she did not approve of giving a child so much attention. She held out her hand and Drioren rose obediently and went slowly to her side. Just before they reached the door, the boy turned. “Thank you, Freelady. Thank you, Mother.”

  “You’re welcome, Drioren,’ Eleret said, noting that he had not said exactly what he was thanking her for. He was probably hoping to pry another story out of his grim-faced nurse.

  As the door closed, Lady Laurinel turned to Eleret. “My thanks as well, Freelady Salven. My son can be overly persistent at times.”

  “I thought he behaved very well.”

  “I’ll leave you now. Dinner is in an hour; I’ll send someone to show you the way.” Laurinel smiled. “This old pile has so many levels and cross-corridors that it takes months for new people to learn their way around.”

  It hadn’t seemed that bad to Eleret, but she nodded. There was nothing to gain by contradicting the woman.

  “How long will you be staying?” Lady Laurinel went on.

  “I’m not sure.” One night at the most, but there was no reason to tell Laurinel that, either.

  Laurinel nodded understandingly. “I suppose Daner hasn’t told you yet. It’s just like a man to drag you off to a strange place and then forget to mention how long he expects you to stay. You must try and tie him down after dinner.”

  “I—” Eleret broke off, not knowing what to say. She didn’t want to lie outright, but if she told the woman Daner had nothing to do with her plans, Laurinel was sure to ask again how long Eleret proposed to stay. The last thing Eleret wanted was to give a specific, truthful answer to that question. It was bad enough that everyone here knew she was Cilhar; she didn’t want the time of her intended departure to be common knowledge as well. Gossip traveled swiftly, and the three Syaski who had attacked her and Daner that afternoon undoubtedly had friends.

  “You needn’t speak to him if it makes you uncomfortable,”
Laurinel said hastily. “It really doesn’t matter. I forget sometimes that he’s not just my little brother anymore, and of course if you’re from the mountains you haven’t dealt much with lords.”

  “True.” And a good thing, too, Eleret added silently. Had the Ciaronese jumped to this many false conclusions about Tamm? And how had she handled it? But no, Tamm had been on the road with the army, not mingling with the nobility. And the army had gotten her killed… Eleret wrenched her thoughts forcibly back to the conversation.

  “I’ll speak to Daner myself,” Laurinel said. Eleret gave herself a mental order to catch Daner first and remind him to be vague. “Is there anything else you need?” Laurinel went on.

  “I can’t think of anything.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to your rest.” Lady Laurinel moved gracefully across the room. At the door, she paused, one hand on the latch. “I can’t help seeing that you haven’t brought your traveling cases,” she said delicately. “I suppose Daner was in too much of a hurry to get you here, so I won’t ask for more of a reason than that. But if you would like to borrow something to wear tonight…”

  Eleret barely hesitated. “No, but I thank you for the offer.”

  “You’re sure?” Laurinel said doubtfully. “I’m sure I could find something that would fit you.”

  “Very sure.” She’d had enough difficulty moving in the wide, calf-length skirt she’d been wearing for the last two days; she wasn’t about to climb into a straight, floor-length garment that clung closely enough to reveal exactly where she had strapped her knife. Besides, she could hardly slit the pocket of someone else’s gown, and after the way things had been going she wanted her weapons easily available, even at a noble family’s dinner table.

  “As you will have it, then.” Laurinel nodded farewell, and the door closed gently behind her.

  Eleret breathed a sigh of relief and began stripping off her clothes. She had plenty of time to clean up, and after the fight with the Syaski she needed to do just that. It was a good thing the washbasin was large.

  When she untied her sash, it fell to the floor with a muffled thud. The money from Commander Weziral! After a few hours, she had grown used to the lumpy weight at her waist, and in the rush of later events she had forgotten it entirely. Well, she had remembered it now. She picked up the sash and tossed it on the bed. As soon as she had finished washing, she would find a better way of carrying it.

  To her pleased surprise, the water was lukewarm. Perhaps there were more advantages to living in the city than she had supposed. Or perhaps it was living in a noble household that was the advantage, although she wasn’t sure that warm wash water would make up for wearing clothes one couldn’t move in and tiptoeing around spindly chairs all day. She finished washing and turned back to the bed.

  The knot had tightened around Weziral’s two pouches. When she sat on the edge of the bed to work it free, pillows puffed up around her. She made a face and smoothed them down, then began patiently pulling at the folds and bunches in the sash. In a few moments, the knot came loose and the bags tumbled onto the bed.

  Eleret picked up the nearest pouch. This was the reason Tamm had left the mountains. “One last time,” she had said, and she had been right, though not in the way they all had hoped. Eleret stared bitterly at the pouch, feeling a strong urge to open the window and throw it as far out as she could manage, as if by casting away the money she could bring her mother back. But Tamm was dead, dead, and wasting the coin would not bring her back. Eleret’s fist clenched around the pouch, and with all her might she threw it against the stone wall.

  The impact split the canvas, and a glittering shower of coins rang down the wall to roll across the rug. Eleret stared in disbelief, then dove off the bed and scooped up the nearest. She had not been mistaken. The coin was gold.

  Eleret glanced at the door, wondering whether anyone had heard the noise. Probably not; the walls were stone and the door was thick. She stood up and walked back to the bed. With shaking hands, she reached for the second pouch, loosened the ties, and poured its contents onto the pillows. More gold. Everyone knew the Emperor was generous with his soldiers, but this? It had to be more than ordinary army pay, even with combat wages and death fees added in. She frowned fiercely, forcing herself to think. Hadn’t Commander Weziral said something about special assignments?

  Slowly, Eleret raised her head and stared sightlessly into the fireplace.

  “Oh, Ma,” she whispered. “What were you doing?”

  The fireplace did not answer. After a time, Eleret bent and began methodically picking up the scattered coins. The pouch was beyond repair, but she still had the empty leather bag Tamm had used for her raven’s-feet. She piled the coins on the table next to the washbasin, then went over to the kit bags to get out the pouch. The practical tasks made her feel more like herself.

  As she dropped the coins one by one into the pouches, she frowned. She couldn’t bring herself to leave this much money lying unguarded in her room while she went off to dinner. Not that she mistrusted Daner’s family particularly, but all her life she had been trained to keep whatever was truly important with her. If a raiding party broke through or a snowslide threatened, there was seldom time to pack, or even to snatch up a pouch or kit. Certainly no one had time to go back for things. Of course, at home “truly important” meant weapons and tools, mostly, with clothes and water and food next on the list. Money was scarce, but not important; other things were harder to replace. This money, however, was different. Tamm Salven had died to earn it, and Eleret was not returning home without it.

  But if she kept it with her, what was she to do with it? Eleret looked at the brown skirt lying on the bed and frowned. She couldn’t put the pouches in her pockets without making it difficult to get at her weapons, and knotting them into her sash was awkward, uncomfortable, and obvious. If she wedged them into the tops of her boots, they would quickly rub her legs raw. On the other hand…

  Eleret went back to her kit and began pulling clothes out of it. In two minutes she had donned her green homespun leggings and her good linen shirt. The money pouches went into the deep inner pockets of her deerskin vest, and two rows of raven’s-feet slid under thin leather thong sewed across the front of each shoulder, making lines of deadly decorations. Her knife hung at her right side in Tamm’s embroidered sheath. After a moment’s thought, she slipped Tamm’s death-braid into her inner vest pocket as well. Pulling on her boots she felt better than she had in several days. She hadn’t realized just how irritating that skirt had been.

  As she leaned over to pluck the skirt off the bed, her hair fell forward across her shoulder. She glanced down and smiled suddenly. Braiding her hair wouldn’t take long, and she’d gone this far already; she might as well continue. She reached for her kit and the colored cord in the bottom.

  As she finished the last knot, someone knocked at the door. When she opened it, the boy outside had his fist raised for another knock, and he fell back a pace in embarrassment. “F-Freelady Salven?” he stammered. “I’m to escort you down to the family.”

  “Fine,” Eleret said. Habit made her glance around the room one last time, but she already had everything she wanted to take with her. Her weapons were ready, the money was safe in her pockets, and the raven ring still circled her index finger. She opened the door wider and stepped out.

  The boy’s eyes widened as he looked at her, and he hesitated visibly. Finally he said, “Uh—you’re going to dinner, Freelady.”

  “I know.”

  “Uh—you’re going like that? Freelady?”

  “Unless you refuse to show me how to get there.”

  From the look on his face, the boy was considering doing just that. Duty, or perhaps fear of the consequences, held him to his task. He swallowed hard and said, “This way, Freelady.”

  The boy led Eleret back to the long cluttered room she and Daner had first entered. Daner, his mother, and his three sisters were already there, along with a tall, bearded man who
se wavy gray hair looked as if it might once have been the same rich blond as Daner’s. They all turned as Eleret entered, and the women froze, wide-eyed. Daner closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and stepped forward. “Father, I would like to present Freelady Eleret Salven. Freelady, my father, Lord Breann tir Vallaniri.”

  “Welcome, Freelady.” Lord tir Vallaniri’s demeanor was perfectly correct, and the expression on his face was polite, but Eleret thought she saw a twinkle in his eye.

  “I thank you for your courtesy,” Eleret said. “May your welcome bring strength to us both.”

  The twinkle grew more pronounced. “And defeat to our enemies, yours and mine,” he said, to Eleret’s surprise. “Daner has been telling me about you, Freelady. I can see he didn’t cover more than half of it.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” Eleret replied. “It was a busy afternoon.”

  Lord tir Vallaniri’s eyebrows rose. “Was it.” He smiled. “The three of us will have to have a long talk after dinner.”

  Daner caught Eleret’s eye and rolled his eyes, while his sisters exchanged glances of astonishment. Beside them, Lady tir Vallaniri gave her husband a long look, then shook her head in resignation.

  “I’ll be happy to talk to you,” Eleret said. “But I don’t think I can add much to whatever Daner’s already told you.” Or rather, there are a lot of things I don’t want to mention. She had better get to Daner soon, and make sure he understood.

  “As you will have it,” Lord tir Vallaniri said, nodding. “I’m still curious to hear your side of the story, however. Until then, Freelady.” He turned to Daner, and the women moved forward to surround Eleret.

  “What a remarkable…costume,” Lady Raqueva said in a low voice. “And how very daring of you to wear it.”

  Her voice was not quite low enough; Lady tir Vallaniri heard her and frowned. “Raqueva! Freelady Salven is our guest.”

  “Yes, and it’s a good thing we haven’t any others tonight!” Lady Metriss said. “We’d be the talk of the city. I thought you were going to make sure she had something decent to wear, Lauri.”