A Time of Exile

by Kerr, Katharine

All at once Rhodry was frightened. He knew obscurely that he was about to let some terrible secret out of its cage like a wild beast, knowledge that would rend and rip the few shreds he had left of his old life, his old self. He had seen too many secret places of the world, crossed too many forbidden borders already, to risk more.

  “If I’m not meant to know, keep your secrets. It’d be a fine way to repay you, anyway, prying into things you shouldn’t tell me.”

  Aderyn sighed in honest relief and looked his normal self again. It occurred to Rhodry, much later, that the old man had been as frightened as he.

  That day marked a turning point, as if fear were the only medicinal strong enough to drive out his shame. That very evening Rhodry left Aderyn’s tent and wandered over to Calonderiel’s, where Jill was staying. As usual, the banadar had a crowd around him, young men, mostly, passing a skin of mead back and forth. While Jill watched, a little nervously, everyone greeted Rhodry without comment. He found a place to sit off to one side, took his turn at the skin when the mead came his way, and merely listened to the talk of hunting and the summer’s grass. When he left, everyone said goodbye in a casual sort of way, and that night he only walked for a couple of hours under the waning moon. On the morrow he took his place guarding the horse herd, and again, no one said a wrong word to him or asked him one single thing.

  That night he joined Calonderiel’s men for the evening meal. They accepted him so easily that he realized he’d already been marked as a member of the banadar’s warband, another swordsman attached to the only kind of magistrate the People knew. The place suited him, and he took it gratefully, doubly grateful that he never had to say a formal word in acknowledgment. Swearing fealty to a man other than the High King, even to his oldest friend left in the world, would have come hard. After the meal they sat outside around a fire, passing the mead skin around, until Melandonatar brought out a harp and struck up a song. When the others joined in, Rhodry at first only listened. The music swept around him, long lines of sprung rhythm in some minor key, then tangled upon itself in intricate harmonies as the men sang of an ancient battle, a desperate last stand at the gates of Rinbaladelan during the Great Burning long ago. The ending left everyone so sad that the harper struck up a happier tune straightaway, a simple song about hunting. This one Rhodry knew, because it had been a favorite at the Aberwyn court on those occasions when the People came to visit, and without even thinking he joined in, adding his cracked tenor to the melodic line and leaving the difficult harmony to the others. Since the song had its bawdy side, they were laughing as much as singing, making so much noise that Rhodry never heard someone walking up to kneel behind him.

  All at once a new voice joined in, a trained and beautiful tenor that rang like a bell on every lighthearted syllable. When Rhodry felt a friendly hand on his shoulder, he turned and looked into a face that was more than half his. Devaberiel’s hair was as pale as moonlight, but his elven-slit eyes were the same cornflower blue as Rhodry’s, and the shape of his jaw and his forehead, and the quick sunny way he smiled, were as familiar as a mirror image as well. Rhodry stopped singing, feeling tears rise in his throat beyond his power to call them back. Devaberiel threw one arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. Slowly the music died away as every man in the circle turned to watch.

  “Banadar?” Devaberiel called out. “Is there any man here who is so blind as to deny that this is my son?”

  “I doubt it very much,” Calonderiel said, grinning. “He certainly looks yours to me.”

  “Then here in the required assembly I claim him and present him to you.”

  Rhodry wept in earnest, wondering why even as the tears came. The men rose to their feet and cheered; women hurried over with skins of mead; sleepy children crawled out of tents to join the celebration. In the midst of the uproar it was impossible to hear a word anyone said. Rhodry saw Salamander standing in the shadows with Jill, and his brother was practically jigging with excitement, with Wildfolk swarming around him like bees round a hive. When Rhodry went to join them, however, Jill turned on her heel and walked away. Even though he’d expected no less, still her coldness stabbed him to the heart, and he knew better than to tiy to follow her.

  “Well, I finally caught up with the esteemed parent,” Salamander burst out. “And dragged him back just as I promised.”

  “I happened to be on my way here already,” Devaberiel said with a certain amount of frost in his voice. “But no matter. I see you’re wearing that wretched ring, younger son of mine. Has anyone figured out what it means yet?”

  “Jill wants to talk with you about that, Father,” Salamander put in. “The morrow will do, however. Tonight let us celebrate, and lo, the moon already rises to join us at our drinking!”

  It was two days before Rhodry had a chance to speak with Jill. He was nursing a hangover in Aderyn’s quiet tent when she came in, carrying a pair of saddlebags. He slipped into Deverrian when he spoke, simply because she was so much a part of his youth and his past.

  “It looks like you’re leaving us. When?”

  “Tomorrow at dawn.”

  “Jill, I only wish you’d stay with me a while.”

  “I can’t. I’ve told you that before often enough. We don’t belong together.”

  “I just don’t understand.”

  “That’s true. You don’t.” She got up and paced to the opening of the tent, stood there listening to the sounds of the camp. “And you can’t understand, truly, so for the love of every god, let it drop!”

  For a brief moment Rhodry wanted to strangle her; then he wanted to weep; then he sighed and knelt down to feed a twig or two into the tiny fire.

  “And where will you go, then?” he said.

  “Bardek.”

  “Bardek?”

  “Just that.” She came back and knelt by the fire. “I’ve just time to get back to Aberwyn and find a ship, I think, before the sailing season’s over.”

  “And why do you want to go to Bardek, or is that beyond my poor and pitiful understanding, too?”

  “You’re still a sulky bastard when you want to be, aren’t you? Listen, you’ve already nearly drowned in trouble for wanting one woman you couldn’t have. Why do you—”

  “Oh, hold your tongue! That’s a nasty weapon to use!”

  “But a true-speaking, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m going to find out about the rose ring. Or try to, anyway.”

  Automatically he glanced down at the silver stripe on the third finger of his right hand.

  “Well, to be more accurate, about those letters inside it.” Jill went on. “Give it over for a minute, will you?”

  “I don’t know what makes you think it’s an island word when it’s written in Elvish. Here.”

  “I never said I thought it was Bardekian.” She held it up, angling the band a little to catch the light from the fire. “Do you remember when you were a captive in the islands? At that rich woman’s house—I don’t remember her name, but I do remember what you told me about her litter boys. Remember them, with the odd yellow eyes, and you were sure they saw the Wildfolk?”

  “By all the gods, so I was! I wondered if they had elven blood in their veins.”

  “I still do. Look, I’ve been talking with your father about the old days. After the Burning the People fled every which way. We know they had boats. Rinbaladelan—and it was a seaport, mind—held out for a year, time enough to pack up treasures for an exile. Your ancestors—the folk who fled east—were country people; they didn’t have the time or the inclination to rescue books and scrolls as they ran. But Rinbaladelan was an ancient city of learning and every grace, or so the story runs, and you can carry books a cursed sight easier in a boat than in a saddlebag.”

  “And after all this time, do you think any of those books still exist?”

  “Not unless someone copied them a couple of times over twixt now and then, no—not in the jungles of the southern islands with all the damp and mildews. But if—what if, just what if some of the
People reached a haven there, and survived to build a city, and what if they’ve kept the old lore alive?”

  Rhodry sat back on his heels and considered the flames. It seemed that he saw towers of gold rise among them, and the glitter of mighty palaces.

  “Jill, let me go with you.”

  “Ye gods, you’re as stubborn as a terrier with a dead rat in its mouth! I won’t, and that’s that. Your place is here. I don’t even know why, but it is.”

  “Oh, is it now? And I suppose I’m just supposed to sit here and wait for you to come back! Cursed if I will!”

  “You might be cursed if you don’t.” Oddly enough, she grinned at him. “If you’re going to keep company with sorcerers, you’d better watch what you say. But truly, I doubt if it matters. Run where you will, Rhodry ap Devaberiel, but the dweomer will catch you when it wants you.”

  He tried to think of some clever retort. There was none. She held the ring up to the fire again, and the silver sent a long wink of light into the shadows.

  “It’s got to be a name,” she said at last.

  “What?”

  “The lettering, you dolt! If it was an ordinary word, someone would be able to translate it. Between them your father and brother took it to every sage in two kingdoms. Someone would have recognized it. But a name—well, anyone can call themselves what they like, particularly if they’re neither elf nor human, can’t they now?” She frowned at the writing, then sounded it out. “Arr-soss-ah soth-ee lorr-ess-oh-ahz.” She paused, then spoke it again in a strange tight voice, almost a growl, that seemed to vibrate through the tent and spread out to the ends of the earth. “Arzosah Sothy Lorezohaz!”

  And far away to the north, on a rocky ledge high up a mountain that no human eyes had ever seen, a sleeping dragon stirred and whimpered in a sudden nightmare.

  Appendices

  INCARNATIONS OF THE VARIOUS

  CHARACTERS THROUGHOUT THE

  DEVERRY SERIES

  (Each column is one soul; each line, one story.)

  POLITICAL CHRONOLOGY

  OF THE KINGDOMS OF DEVERRY AND

  ELDIDD

  -8. The People of Bel flee Northern Gaul by magical means after Vindex’s failed rebellion against the Emperor Nero and arrive in their new world.

  -5. The destruction of the Seven Cities of the western elves by the people known as the Gel da’Thae, the Horse Kin.

  Year 1. Founding of the Holy City of Dun Deverry after King Bran sees the omen of the White Sow.

  2-254. Dynasty of the White Mare. Direct rule of King Bran’s descendants as the small colonies around Dun Deverry spread and expand up and down the Belaver. Cerrmor founded in 25, Lughcarn in 106.

  54-297. First Interregnum. Death of Bran’s last lineal descendant touches off the fighting, which eventually the Striking Wyvern clan wins. In disgust, the Hippogriff clan, accompanied by the men of the Dragon, leaves to found its own kingdom in Eldidd.

  98-402. Dynasty of the Striking Wyvern. Expansion continues rapidly. Colonies in Cantrae and Gwaentaer as well as the founding of many cities and towns in Deverry proper. By the 380s the population spread reaches the Eldidd border. Bitter fighting over the defining of that border brings down Wyvern rule.

  301. After much searching for omens, Cynaeval of the Hippogriff clan founds a royal city in Abernaudd.

  302. Cadvaenan of the Dragon founds Aberwyn. Since he is Cynaeval’s foster brother and much the younger to boot, he cedes the kingship to the Hippogriff. This arrangement lasts until Cadvaenan’s death in suspicious circumstances some fifteen years later.

  317-322. Civil war in Eldidd. At the end, the Hippogriff clan is the sole royal clan in Eldidd, but the name of the Dragon is allowed to live on for sentimental reasons.

  403-600. Age of the Warring Clans. To some scholars, the Second Interregnum, it is not so much a true civil war, as there is always a titular king in Dun Deverry, as a time when the Great Clans do pretty much as they please. There is enough empty land available to make the constant fighting possible without tearing the society apart, as those who prefer peace simply move away from disputed territory. In this period Gwaentaer is heavily colonized; the population builds along the iron routes down from Cerrgonney; there is even limited settlement in the Auddglyn.

  Early 400s. In Eldidd, settlers to the north and the far west make the first contact with the elves, who withdraw to the west rather than fight over territory that they’ve barely settled.

  558. First contact with Bardek, when a group of Deverry merchants, bound for Eldidd, are blown off course and carried to the far islands.

  602. After many years of fighting, Adoryc I founds the dynasty of the Blue Wyvern, the first effectual dynasty in some two hundred years. His power is based on a coalition of the rising new merchant class, the priests of Bel and Wmm, and the lesser clans. Concessions to his allies include royal support of the new Bardek trade and a royal ban against head-hunting. He also divides the estates of some the conquered Great Clans to reward the lesser, among them the Falcons, Boars, and Wolves.

  621. Adoryc II, Galrion’s father, ascends the throne.

  655. Last time a warrior is ritually beheaded for taking an enemy head.

  610-664. In general, this is a time of prosperity, relative peace, and growing trade with Bardek. The kingdom of Eldidd, however, begins to spread east rather than north, and border clashes are common along the Girysbel range.

  665-676. First Eldidd War. The boundary is eventually settled as running down the middle of the mountains, a compromise that pleases no one. During this period Eldidd begins expanding to the west and comes into the first true conflict with the elves.

  720-728. Second Eldidd War. Liddmaryc of the Hippogriff lays claim to Cenerrpaen, the odd triangle of coastal plain by the Girysbel. Eldidd wins and forces a humiliating treaty, one provision of which is the betrothal of Covramur of Deverry’s infant daughter to Liddmaryc’s grandson, Waryn. This marriage gives Eldidd a distant claim to the Deverry throne.

  750. Covramur dies, ushering in the Time of Troubles, as his daughter’s husbands all lay claim to the throne. There are three claimants, one in Cerrmor, one in Cantrae, and one in Eldidd. While Cerrmor and Cantrae fight over the Holy City, Eldidd fights a war of attrition on the border.

  773. Capture of Mael, Prince Aberwyn, produces a twenty-year truce between Cerrmor and Eldidd.

  793. The province of Pyrdon rebels from Eldidd and declares itself a kingdom. The effect on the wars is a bloody stalemate that drags on for years of raiding, feints, but no decisive action.

  828. Birth of the boy destined to be king of all Deverry, Maryn, son of King Casyl of Pyrdon.

  843. Glyn II of Cerrmor dies without a son. Maryn evades those seeking to harm him by posing as a silver dagger and arrives safely in Cerrmor to claim the throne.

  849. Maryn takes the Holy City. The Boars flee to Cantrae and attempt to establish a rival royal city there.

  851. Maryn I, true king of all Deverry, is crowned in the Holy City.

  852-855. The Final Eldidd War. When Eldidd refuses to make peace, Maryn conquers the kingdom and reduces it to the status of a province.

  853. Casyl of Pyrdon abdicates in favor of Maryn; Pyrdon becomes part of the newly unified kingdom.

  862. Maryn I dies of the aftereffects of many old wounds, leaving behind him peace and the dynasty of the Red Wyvern. The common people are convinced that the gods called him to the Otherlands so young in order to make a god out of him.

  856-900. In general, a time of reconstruction. When Maryn gives the gwerbretrhyn of Cantrae to the Southern Rams, what’s left of the Boars as well as other disgruntled losers flee north to Cerrgonney and found a loose coalition of independent lordships, who then spend most of their time squabbling over who will be gwerbret. The kings ignore them, except for punishing the occasional raid down into Gwaentaer. Population generally begins to rebuild after the long bleeding of the wars.

  918. Abortive rebellion in Eldidd. King Aeryc crushes it with
the aid of the loyal Pertyc Maelwaedd, Lord Cannobaen, who is rewarded with the gwerbretrhyn of Aberwyn.

  921. A flare-up of war with Cerrgonney when the newly determined gwerbrets attempt to impose their own taxes on the towns of the Camyn Yraen near their rhans. Aeryc crushes them within a few months.

  936. All trade treaties with Bardek are reviewed and brought directly under the control of the king. Those between Bardek and Eldidd are made consonant with those in Deverry proper.

  962-984. The Cerrgonney wars. In 962, King Maryn II, infuriated by the continuing efforts of the northern gwerbrets to control the iron trade to their own advantage, declares the rank of gwerbret abolished in Cerrgonney. His son, Casyl II, finally brings the matter to a successful conclusion. Thereafter, all Cerrgonney lords swear direct loyalty to the king.

  1007. Gwardyn II, who has no sons, marries his daughter to his brother Savyl’s son, Lallyn, who becomes Lallyn I of the new dynasty of the Gold Wyvern. Although such a marriage is legal, the inbreeding takes its toll in succeeding generations.

  1039. The founding of the province of Cwm Pecl. The Stallion clan is given the gwerbretrhyn.

  1057. Lallyc II ascends the throne.

  GLOSSARY

  Aber (Deverrian) A river mouth, an estuary.

  Alar (Elvish) A group of elves, who may or may not be blood kin, who choose to travel together for some indefinite period of time. Plural: alarli.

  Alardan (Elv.) The meeting of several alarli, usually the occasion for a drunken party.

  Archon (trans, of the Bardekian atzenarlen) The elected head of a city-state (Bardekian at).

  Astral The plane of existence directly “above” or “within” the etheric (q.v.). In other systems of magic, often referred to as the Akashic Record or the Treasure House of Images.

  Aura The field of electromagnetic energy that permeates and emanates from every living being.

  Aver (Dev.) A river.

  Bara (Elv.) An enclitic that indicates that the preceding adjective in an elvish agglutinated word is the name of the element following the enclitic, as can+bara+melim = Rough River (rough+name marker+river).