‘Having a bit of fun, are you?’ Gwairyc said.
‘We are,’ Loddlaen said. ‘What’s it to you?’
‘Does my master want me?’ Tirro said. ‘I’ll come. I’m sorry.’
‘Nah, nah, nah!’ Gwairyc said. ‘Go ahead, lads. Enjoy yourself. Drink all you want, Tirro. There’ll be plenty of work on the morrow.’
Bewildered, Tirro stared up at him. Gwairyc gave them both what he assumed was a pleasant smile, then turned and walked off again. Get howling drunk, you dog, Gwairyc thought. It’ll keep that ugly little cock of yours limp.
The children that Gwairyc was so assiduously protecting had mothers, of course. Once he got used to their strange eyes and even more peculiar ears, Gwairyc found them beautiful. They didn’t return the opinion. Every time he smiled at a woman or tried out the few Westfolk words that he’d picked up, she would politely but firmly turn her back or walk away with some muttered excuse in Elvish that, of course, he couldn’t understand. Later he’d often overhear these same women speaking perfectly good Deverrian to Wffyn or Nevyn, but if he tried to pursue the acquaintance, they would avoid him ever after.
After some days at the camp, Gwairyc found one woman who let it slip that she knew Deverrian. When he asked her name in the most pleasant way he could manage, her eyes grew wide in something like fear. She crossed her fingers in a warding gesture, backed away, and ran off. Gwairyc swore under his breath and turned around to find Nevyn grinning at him.
‘By the black hairy arse of the Lord of Hell!’ Gwairyc said. ‘What is this, my lord? Have I grown pusboils all over my face or suchlike?’
‘Naught of the sort,’ Nevyn said. ‘But you’re from Deverry. Westfolk women think that all Deverry men are household tyrants and wife-beaters.’
‘I see. Well, then, it’s no wonder they’re so cold to me. Here I thought that mayhap there was somewhat wrong with me.’
‘Perish the thought.’ Nevyn rolled his eyes skyward.
Had Nevyn been a man of his own rank or just somewhat below it, Gwairyc would have challenged him right then and there. As it was, though, Nevyn had dweomer, and with that, or so the Ram lords always said, there was no arguing.
‘Somewhat very odd happened to Morwen,’ Nevyn said. ‘One of the Guardians appeared to her, or at least, I think Alshandra’s a Guardian.’
‘She is,’ Aderyn said, ‘and a very nasty one, at that.’
‘That’s unfortunate. Morwen told me that Alshandra was scouting out the camp, like, looking for her stolen daughter.’
‘Stolen daughter?’ Aderyn frowned, thinking. ‘I wonder what she means by that? I don’t know, but I’ll wager it’s an evil omen.’
The two dweomermasters had walked out into the grasslands, mostly to get away from the noise of the Westfolk camp, but also to take advantage of the warm sunshine while it lasted. On the northern horizon clouds were piling up in huge white drifts, gleaming in the sun for the nonce but threatening rain later.
‘Morwen also told me,’ Nevyn continued, ‘that Tirro saw her and decided she was a goddess.’
‘Did he now?’ Aderyn made a wry face. ‘Maybe she’ll do us all a favour and spirit him away.’
‘That thought doesn’t become you.’
Aderyn shrugged and walked a little faster. Nevyn would have said more, but he heard someone calling Aderyn’s name. When he looked back towards the camp, he saw Valandario, pushing her way towards them through the waist-high grass.
‘Master Aderyn,’ she called out, ‘the merchant needs your help to settle an argument. Two of our men are squabbling over one piece of his goods. I am uncertain what the trouble may be, but they’re not far from drawing their knives.’
‘Bad trouble, then.’ Aderyn glanced at Nevyn. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Aderyn hurried off, heading back towards the camp and the trading ground beyond. Nevyn and Valandario followed more slowly. The young journeywoman kept her gaze straight ahead, as if she were afraid to look at Nevyn.
‘Has there been any news of your mysterious gift?’ Nevyn said.
‘There hasn’t,’ Valandario said, ‘but I feel in my heart it will be soon. Um, Master Nevyn, may I be so bold as to ask you a question?’
‘Certainly.’
‘My thanks! Well, actually, I have a good many of them.’ Valandario paused for a shy smile. ‘But I know your time is precious.’
‘Not particularly precious at the moment. It’s clear that you’re very interested in gem lore.’
‘I am, and that constitutes my first question. Is it a proper sort of study for a journeyman, or journeywoman, I should say? I know not why, but I feel so drawn to gems and crystals. It’s as if they have a scent as beautiful as roses, and I can smell them or suchlike. That sounds daft, does it not? Or perhaps, they seem to have auras, and I can feel them even though I cannot see them. It’s very hard to explain.’
‘Not daft at all. Gems aren’t alive like an animal or a plant, but the powerful ones have within them the germs or seeds of life. They don’t have minds, of course. Those seeds do produce some effects on the astral and etheric, and events on those planes can affect them in turn.’
‘Ah, I see. And they attract spirits, do they not?’
‘They do. Elemental spirits feel a certain affinity with them. That’s why some workings can attach spirits to the right sort of gems. Notice I say “attach”, not “bind”. Trapping and binding spirits into gems is an evil practice.’
‘I’d never do that, Master Nevyn! But would you say that gems have a certain sensitivity to events in the physical plane?’
‘In the right circumstances, most assuredly.’
‘And then it’s possible that some people have a strong sensitivity to them?’
‘Very possible.’ Nevyn smiled at her. ‘I take it that by the “some people” in question, you mean yourself.’
Valandario blushed. ‘I do,’ she said. ‘I thought I must be sensitive in such a way when I had that dream about the stone. It was as if it were sending some sort of astral perturbation ahead of it. And when I woke up, I wondered if such a thing could happen.’
‘It can, certainly. You seem to have found your proper calling within the wider realm of the dweomer, I’d say.’
‘Oh, my thanks! My heart is gladdened to hear you say that, Master Nevyn! When I heard you were riding our way, I was so pleased. You see, I heard that you were coming on the very day after I had that dream.’
‘Indeed?’ Nevyn paused, struck by the odd coincidence—if indeed it were just a coincidence. ‘Just who is this young man? Is he anyone I might know?’
‘I am not sure. His name is Javanateriel, and he is Loddlaen’s foster-brother. His mother nursed Loddlaen after Dallandra left us, and so he knows Aderyn awfully well.’
‘Has he ever studied dweomer?’
‘He has not.’ This time her blush turned deep scarlet. ‘I believe that he is merely in love with me.’
‘Then he has good taste in women. He has some tenuous connection with the dweomer, however, through you and his mother. I wonder if we have a confluence of forces at work here. You receive the message from your young man, you have the dream, you hear that I’ve created the Great Stone of the West—which reminds me. How did you hear about my work with the opal?’
‘Loddlaen mentioned it,’ Valandario said. ‘I suppose he heard it from his father.’
‘No doubt. Here, don’t go mentioning it to anyone else, will you?’
‘Of course not. I told Loddlaen at the time that he’d best hold his tongue, too.’
‘Ah, my thanks! If you’ve got no more questions, I think I’ll just tell him again myself as well.’
‘Oh, I could talk about gems for days and days, so it would be better to let you go now.’
As soon as they returned to the Westfolk camp, Nevyn took his leave of Valandario and began to look for Loddlaen, who was nowhere in evidence. Finally Nevyn saw a lad he knew named Farendar, kneeling on the ground with three
others. As he walked up, he noticed that they’d spread out a painted doeskin to play an elaborate game of dice. At his question, they laid the dice aside.
‘I’m not sure,’ Farendar said. ‘I did see him walking with Morwen, Wise One, and that shifty-eyed little apprentice merchant was tagging after them.’
‘Oh. You know, I think Loddlaen must have moved his tent. I went by there, but all I saw was a worn patch on the ground.’
‘He does that now and again.’ Farendar let his lip curl. ‘It’s our noise. He’s too good for the rest of us.’
‘That’s not it, and you know it.’ Another lad scowled at him.
‘Just so,’ the third said. ‘Wise One, don’t listen to Far. Loddlaen does keep to himself, but by the Star Gods! there’s plenty of room out in the grasslands for a man who needs a little peace and quiet.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Nevyn said. ‘Do you know why he needs it?’
‘Loddlaen’s just Loddlaen.’ The lad got up and shaded his eyes to look around the campground. ‘Ah, I think they’re down near the stream, past the herd, do you see? By the two willows. It’s a fair distance along.’
‘My thanks. My old eyes aren’t as sharp as yours.’
By following the lad’s directions, Nevyn did find Morwen, Tirro, and Loddlaen sitting on the grass in front of the newly placed tent. Evan lay asleep beside his nursemaid. Every few moments Morwen would brush the flies away from the child’s face with a whisk she’d woven from strands of dry grass.
A great crowd of Wildfolk swarmed around them, but as he watched, Nevyn noticed that while Loddlaen and Morwen could see them, Tirro seemed oblivious. He’d often make a gesture with his hands or move to a more comfortable position without noticing that he’d nearly sat upon a gnome or swatted a sprite, a lack that surprised Nevyn. Brour might have been a shifty little thief, but he’d had undeniable dweomer gifts. In this life, apparently, he had none.
Loddlaen glanced up and smiled. ‘Good morrow, Master Nevyn,’ he said.
‘And a good morrow to you,’ Nevyn said, ‘I want a word with you, lad.’
Loddlaen’s pale face turned a little paler. For a moment he froze, then scrambled up as quickly as he could. They walked along the stream out of ear-shot of the others.
‘Valandario mentioned that you told her about the Great Stone of the West,’ Nevyn said. ‘I hope you’ve not told anyone else.’
‘I’ve not, I assure you.’ Loddlaen arranged a brittle smile. ‘I only mentioned it to Val because of her own gem dweomer.’
‘There was no harm in telling Val. It’s not precisely a secret, but I don’t want it bruited about, either. There are evil men here and there who might covet the thing.’
‘True spoken. I shan’t say another word to anyone.’
‘Good lad!’ But Nevyn hesitated. He had a feeling that Loddlaen was lying, but it was only a feeling, and a weak one at that. ‘That’s all I wanted to ask, so I’ll leave you to your friends.’
Loddlaen’s smile turned genuine with relief.
Javanateriel brought his gifts for Valandario and Aderyn into camp the next afternoon. Nevyn and Aderyn were sitting in front of Aderyn’s tent when they heard a shout from the general direction of the horse-herd. Aderyn stood up and shaded his eyes as he peered into the distance.
‘Someone’s arrived.’ Aderyn sat back down.
Not long after, Valandario came running. ‘It is a gem!’ she called out. ‘I’ve not seen it yet, but Jav told me that much. My dream was a true one.’
Eventually Javanateriel and his friend, Albaral, joined them at Aderyn’s tent. They were both typical Westfolk men, blond and impossibly handsome, but Albaral carried a long scar down one cheek. Aderyn ushered them inside, along with Nevyn, and of course, Valandario. They all sat down in a rough circle around the patch of sunlight coming through the smokehole.
‘What about Loddlaen?’ Nevyn said.
The two young men exchanged a quick glance.
‘I don’t know where he is,’ Aderyn said with a rueful smile. ‘I looked around the camp, but no one seems to know where he went.’
‘I saw him walking over to the merchant’s camp,’ Nevyn continued. ‘But that was some while ago.’
‘What a pity.’ Valandario sounded profoundly relieved. ‘He will doubtless be gone for a long while.
‘Ah, too bad,’ Aderyn said. ‘Now then, Jav. Where did you find these mysterious treasures?’
‘First of all,’ Jav said, ‘Albaral came with me. We rode west on a dare, you see. Just along the coast, though I was half-minded to see if we could get all the way to Rinbaladelan.’
‘Half a mind is about right,’ Albaral muttered.
Jav ignored him and went on. ‘We’d ridden for eight days along the cliffs, following the line of the beach. It’s desolate out there—ye gods, at night you can hear the ghosts, drifting back and forth, mourning the lost cities.’
‘The sound of the sea on the rocks,’ Albaral interrupted again.
‘Some of us have more imagination than others.’ Jav glared at him. ‘Will you hold your tongue and let me finish?’ He turned to Valandario. ‘It was the thought of you that gave me the courage to go on.’
Albaral pressed one hand to his stomach and the other to his mouth as if he were going to vomit.
‘But we found a marvel long before we reached the ruined city,’ Jav continued, ‘a toppled watchtower.’
‘A what?’ Aderyn leaned forward, all attention.
‘A tower, Wise One, built of fine pale stone. It must have been as tall as a Deverry broch when it was new, but they’d built it right on the edge of the cliff. Those big storms we had this winter past? A big chunk of cliff had eroded and fallen, taking the tower with it. It was spread out along the beach, pointing towards the water.’ Jav gestured with his right hand as if he were strewing a line of dice. ‘We poked around the stones a bit.’
‘He nearly toppled one big stone onto his own foot,’ Albaral put in. ‘It was balanced on another, you see, and—’
‘It’s a cursed good thing I did, wasn’t it?’ Jav turned and scowled at him. ‘That’s where we found first box.’
‘Ah,’ Aderyn said, ‘the point of this story at last.’
‘Just that, Wise One,’ Jav said. ‘I brought the whole box with me, because oddly enough, it looks new, when you’d think it would have rotted away by now. There must be some sort of dweomer upon it.’ With a flourish Jav pulled a wooden box out of a saddlebag and handed it to Aderyn. ‘Your gift is inside.’ He glanced Valandario’s way and smiled. ‘Rank before beauty, I thought, even beauty as great as yours.’
Her only answer was a blush. Albaral made a gagging noise.
The narrow box, about a foot and a half long, bore a design of spirals and bands of interlace on its top. From where Nevyn sat, it looked like a nice bit of oak.
‘This is an Eldidd-made box,’ Aderyn pronounced. ‘It’s not a question of dweomer in the least. It’s quite new, actually. A couple of years old at most.’
Javanateriel’s triumphant smile disappeared into a slack mouthed disappointment. Albaral snickered.
‘Wise One,’ Jav said, ‘we truly did find it where I told you it was.’
‘Oh, I’m not saying you didn’t, lad. The question is, how did it get there?’ Aderyn frowned down at the box for a moment, then shrugged and opened the lid. His expression changed to something like awe. ‘Now this,’ he said softly, ‘must be very old indeed.’
Nevyn leaned forward to look. Inside the box lay a scroll written not on parchment but on Bardekian pabrus, a thin, flexible material made from reeds. Pale brown stains and small rips disfigured this particular example, but Nevyn could distinguish a line of faded writing in the elven syllabary.
‘I think I’ll wait to try unrolling this,’ Aderyn said. ‘But Jav, you have my heart-felt thanks.’
Javanateriel grinned in sheer pride. Albaral kept quiet.
Aderyn put the lid back on the box. ‘Well, bring out the gem you f
ound.’ he said. ‘We’ve made Val wait long enough.’
Jav rummaged through the saddlebag and came out with an object wrapped in a scrap of Deverry-made linen tied up with blue ribands. ‘It was sitting on top of the box in a shred of rotting cloth. I wrapped it in fresh,’ he said to Val. ‘I only wish I had fine Bardek silks, all tied with a cord of the purest gold, for you deserve naught but the beautiful.’
Everyone leaned forward to watch while Valandario unwrapped the bit of rough linen. She gasped, let the scrap fall, and held up a truncated pyramid of obsidian, about six inches high, with a base that fit neatly on the palm of her hand. Nevyn had often seen obsidian before—dwarven traders regularly brought pieces to northern Deverry—but he had never seen a cut stone like this. In the bright sun it glittered with reflected light, but it seemed that the light itself turned black as it recoiled from the touch of the gem—an impossible effect, of course, but more witnesses than Nevyn vouched for it.
‘The Black Sun,’ Aderyn whispered. ‘I think I finally understand what that oath means, “by the Black Sun herself”. This thing shines with one of her rays.’
Valandario nodded, staring into the depths. ‘Master Nevyn, is this an evil thing? I feel no harm coming from it, but still, it glows with darkness!’
‘Give it to me.’ Nevyn held out his hand. ‘I’ll test it out.’
‘My thanks.’ Valandario put it on his palm. ‘I am very glad you’re here.’
‘Then it’s passed the first test.’ Nevyn smiled at her. ‘If you’d been unable to part with it, even for a moment—well, that would have been a sign of great evil.’ He paused, shutting his eyes to let his impressions of the obsidian pyramid fill his mind. ‘I feel no harm, either, but I do feel dweomer, sure enough.’ He opened his eyes, then handed the stone back to her. ‘I don’t have the slightest idea of what kind of dweomer, mind. Finding out is going to be your task, not mine, I think, and it won’t be an easy one.’
‘I can’t think of a better way to spend a few years.’ Valandario turned to Jav and gave him a smile so warm and soft that he leaned towards her, seemingly without realizing he was doing so. ‘Thank you, I thank you. I am overwhelmed. This is the most beautiful gift that anyone has ever given me.’
The Spirit Stone Page 19