The Spirit Stone

by Katharine Kerr

  In Wffyn’s camp the muleteers were trotting back and forth. Some were carrying packs and packsaddles out to the herd to set beside the mules, who were still grazing; others were haltering the Westfolk horses and roping them together. Wffyn was standing in the midst of all this confusion while Tirro knelt at his feet, putting the last pieces of ironware into a canvas pack. When he saw Loddlaen and the others coming, Tirro got up.

  ‘Master,’ he said, ‘I want to ask you somewhat.’

  ‘Do you?’ Wffyn said. ‘Well, ask away.’

  Tirro took a deep breath. His eyes shone—it was the first time she’d ever seen him look truly happy, Morwen realized. ‘I want to stay here with the Westfolk,’ Tirro said. ‘I spoke with Loddlaen about it, and he said I could. It will save Da a fair bit of coin if I never come back, and he won’t mind.’

  ‘Well, by the gods!’ Wffyn said with a laugh. ‘This is a bolt from a clear sky, lad.’ He glanced at Loddlaen. ‘Do you truly think your father would allow him to stay?’

  ‘I do, sir.’ Loddlaen stepped forward. ‘There’s one good thing about living as we do out here. We always have room for another person. Tirro’s been truly unhappy in Cerrmor, and he told me that he’d got into some sort of trouble, but out here, in the wild country, he would –’

  ‘Some sort of trouble?’ Gwairyc turned to Tirro. ‘Did you tell him what?’

  Tirro went dead-pale.

  ‘I see you didn’t,’ Gwairyc said. ‘Here, Loddlaen, this is a horse you don’t want running with your herd. He was thrown out of Cerrmor for raping a little lass, no more than six summers old, she was.’

  ‘I did not rape her!’ Tirro burst out. ‘I truly loved Mella, and she loved me. I never would have hurt her.’ He froze for a long moment, then winced and clasped both hands over his mouth, as if he could shove the confession back in.

  For a moment Morwen feared that she was going to vomit and disgrace herself. ‘You horrible foul swine,’ she said. ‘You disgusting lump of-’ Words failed. She grabbed Ebañy, picked up him, and stepped back a few paces to put distance twixt him and the creature she once had pitied.

  Tirro turned to Loddlaen and held out both hands, but he could say nothing, apparently, judging from the way he gulped for air.

  ‘You’ve got children in your alar,’ Gwairyc continued. ‘Do you truly want this piss-poor excuse for a man riding with you?’

  ‘I don’t.’ Loddlaen was very nearly whispering. ‘You have my thanks, Gwarro. I had no idea.’

  Tirro spun around and raised balled fists at Gwairyc. ‘I hate you,’ Tirro burst out. ‘I’ll hate you forever for this.’

  ‘Will you now?’ Gwairyc hooked his thumbs in his belt and looked the lad over. ‘Am I supposed to be frightened by that?’

  Tirro’s face turned dark red. ‘You wait,’ he snarled. ‘I’ll get you for this. I swear I will.’

  Gwairyc laughed. Tirro spun on his heel and took one stride as if he were planning to break into a run, but he nearly collided with Wffyn. He began to cry, moist sobs so loud, so violent, that he could barely stand upright.

  ‘Oh ye gods,’ Gwairyc said wearily. ‘I should have slit your throat and thrown you out for the ravens. You snivelling little coward!’

  At last Tirro managed to control his sobs and haul himself upright. Panting for breath, he set his hands on his hips. ‘Sneer all you want,’ he said between gasps. ‘I’ll get you for this one fine day. I swear it. I shall have my revenge.’

  ‘Such fine words! There’s green snot all over your lip, by the by.’

  Morwen burst out laughing, a shrill little cackle of mockery. Tirro began to sob, his skinny little face so pale that she thought he might faint, but Wffyn grabbed him by one arm.

  ‘Come along, you,’ Wffyn said. ‘It’s time to ride to Cerrmor. That ship bound for Bardek will be waiting for you.’

  Tirro pulled his arm free, shook himself, and tried to muster a haughty expression. For a moment the expression held, but only for a moment, before he began to weep again. Wffyn hauled him off, still sobbing. No one spoke until they were out of earshot.

  ‘In a way,’ Loddlaen said, ‘I feel sorry for him.’

  ‘How could you?’ Morwen snapped.

  ‘Well, he’s another human being, isn’t he?’ Loddlaen hesitated, thinking. ‘Some evil thing must have made him the way he is.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ Gwairyc’s eyes showed a brief flickerof remorse. ‘But this should teach him that he’d best mend his ways.’

  ‘We can ask your da,’ Morwen said. ‘About what made Tirro the way he is, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think we’d better.’ Loddlaen’s voice trembled. ‘I don’t want my father to know about this.’

  ‘And why not?’ Morwen said.

  ‘Because I nearly let Alastyr into the alar. I feel like such a cursed fool now, trusting him. I even kind of liked him. I don’t want Da to know how stupid I was. And then there’s Nevyn. I can’t tell you how much I admire him. I don’t want him to know, either, how close I came to making a wretched rotten mistake.’

  ‘I do see what you mean.’ Morwen glanced at Gwairyc. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter to me.’ Gwairyc shrugged. ‘I won’t mention it if you’d rather I didn’t.’

  ‘I do wish,’ Loddlaen said. ‘Please, let’s just not let anyone know.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘They all hate me enough already.’

  Nevyn and Aderyn, meanwhile, were sitting in the sweeping shade of a willow tree, upstream a good long way from both encampments, where they could examine Jav’s gift privately. Before he opened the box, Aderyn made a warding circle around them, the scroll, and the trees, too, for good measure. Once the pentagrams shone clearly at the cardinal points, he sat down again and took out the scroll. In the dappled shade he spread it out, revealing it to be only a few feet long and torn off towards the end as well. Rows of dark brown symbols marched across the tan-coloured pabrus, whilst all round them in the margins someone had scrawled more symbols in red.

  ‘That red ink intrigues me,’ Aderyn said. ‘It hasn’t faded like the other, older writing. I’m guessing, anyway, that the main body of writing was black to begin with.’

  ‘No doubt,’ Nevyn said. ‘Now, that red—they make it in Bardek, but it’s a guild secret.’

  ‘That’s a pity. Perhaps I can get one of the merchants to bring me some next year. I’ll wager it’s for sale in Aberwyn, what with Wmmglaedd so near. Maybe the pabrus is, too. But be that as it may, the style of the brown writing is much older than the red, so I’m assuming that the scroll was annotated long after it was copied.’

  ‘That’s reasonable. Do you know by whom?’

  ‘I don’t.’ Aderyn laid a fingertip on one of the red scrawls. ‘But it must have been by someone with dweomer. This note tells us that at least one word is missing from this formula, because it, and I quote, gave no result.’

  ‘Fascinating! One of these days I must learn to read Elvish.’

  ‘Well, the actual formulae aren’t Elvish. They just use the same syllabary, but there’s an Elvish translation given for each one. Let me sound out a bit for you.’

  When he read out loud, Aderyn kept his voice deliberately conversational; he even at moments paused to break up the flow of sound. Neither he nor Nevyn wanted to find some powerful being standing in front of them, evoked by accident and furious about it.

  ‘Bah-zoad-em ay-loh ee-tah,’ Aderyn began, ‘Pee-rip-so-noo obla-noo. Noh-zoad-ak-vah bay-hay—Well, you get the idea.’

  ‘Ye gods!’ Nevyn said. ‘I’ve never heard anything like that in my life. What does it mean?’

  ‘According to the translation, it means: the mid-day, the first, is like the third of the highest, made of twenty-six purple –’ Aderyn hesitated briefly ‘—purple pillars. Sorry, the Elvish word the glossor used for pillar here is quite archaic.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Read out some more of the originals, if you don’t mind, and let me see
what impressions I receive.’

  As Aderyn continued reading, one careful syllable at a time, Nevyn allowed himself to sink into a shallow trance. Even though the words sounded like utter nonsense to him, his mind began to form images in response to the sounds. He began to see pieces of buildings and quick flashes of bizarre landscapes, lit by peculiar light. Very occasionally he got a brief impression of a spirit or a being moving through the image.

  Aderyn paused to rest his voice and drink from the waterskin he’d brought along. Nevyn shook himself and slapped his hand upon the grassy ground to earth out any trace of the forces they might have invoked.

  ‘Those are incredibly powerful formulae,’ Nevyn said. ‘I don’t know a word of that language, but it had its effects upon me nonetheless.’

  ‘I was hoping it would.’ Aderyn’s eyes gleamed, like those of a farm lad who sees a market fair spread out before him after long months of hard work. ‘This scroll was truly a splendid gift. It must have come from the ruined cities.’

  ‘It’s lucky it survived. I wonder why Evandar gave it to you?’

  ‘Well, you know, from time to time he has done favours for me. I suppose you’re right, and the wretched creature is trying to pay me a price for my wife.’

  ‘He may be honestly remorseful.’

  ‘Hah! He’s not evolved enough for that.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Of course I am!’ Aderyn had snarled the words, but he caught himself and took a deep breath. ‘My apologies. I’m grateful for this scroll, mind, no matter what Evandar may have had in mind.’ He stroked the box lid as if it were a pet cat. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if these evocations lead me right into the centre of the lost lore.’

  ‘No more would I,’ Nevyn said. ‘If I were you, I’d study them most carefully before chanting any of them.’

  ‘Have no fear of that! I’m not given to sticking my hand into fires, either.’

  One by one they worked through the formulae on the scroll. Aderyn would read the original words; Nevyn would consider them and mouth a few to see what images they evoked in his mind. Aderyn would do the same, and then they would compare the images, only to find in every case but one that they matched. At that point Aderyn would read the translation. They found that the images consistently bore some relation to details in the translation of the formula as well. The one exception was, of course, the formula with the missing word or words. Somehow or other each formula was putting them in contact with an exactly designated part of the inner planes.

  By the time they’d finished reading the last evocation on the scroll, the sun was hanging half-way between noon and sundown. Nevyn felt a little dazed, even though they’d both taken care to remain in normal consciousness.

  ‘We need to eat,’ Aderyn said. ‘I should have brought food with us, but somehow it slipped my mind, I was so eager to take another look at the scroll.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t think of it either.’

  ‘Huh, we should both start taking some of our own herbs. Do we have any that help the memory? I don’t remember.’

  They shared a laugh.

  ‘Which does remind me,’ Nevyn said. ‘I promised you some medicinal brimstone. I’d best fetch it before I forget again.’

  Wffyn’s caravan was long gone by the time they reached the Westfolk camp. While Aderyn went to find someone to cook them dinner, Nevyn ducked into Aderyn’s tent to fetch the medicinals and found Gwairyc there, napping on top of his blankets with his saddle for a pillow. He sat up with a yawn.

  ‘No need for you to get up, lad,’ Nevyn told him.

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind being roused, my lord. I was just bored, not truly tired. In a way, I’m going to miss Tirro. Guarding the little bastard gave me somewhat to do.’

  As soon as Nevyn opened his mule pack, he realized that Lord Corbyn’s silver cup was missing. He remembered that he’d tucked his supply of brimstone into the cup for safe keeping, because the dwarven alchemist from whom he’d bought it had packed the yellow powder into short lengths of sausage casing, tied off at each end with thread, an efficient but vulnerable container. He eventually found the brimstone, but not the cup.

  ‘Tirro, I wager,’ Gwairyc said.

  ‘Well, we don’t know that for a certainty,’ Nevyn said, ‘but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the thief.’

  ‘If one of the Westfolk wanted it badly enough, he’d have come right up and asked you for it.’

  ‘That’s true, isn’t it? Ah well, it’s not worth riding after Wffyn to fetch it back.’

  ‘No doubt, my lord, but it vexes me.’ Gwairyc shook his head as if trying to shake off the frustration. ‘It’s just too cursed easy to steal things out here, with everything lying around on the ground, like, and people coming and going from everyone’s tents.’

  ‘You have a point, truly.’

  Nevyn laid a tube of sulphur on top of one of Aderyn’s sacks of medicinals, then left the tent. He found Loddlaen standing right outside, staring down at the ground. When Nevyn spoke to him, he looked up fast and took a step back, then laughed.

  ‘You startled me, sir,’ Loddlaen said. ‘Is Da in there?’

  ‘He’s not,’ Nevyn said. ‘He’s off looking for food.’

  ‘Well, it’s not truly important. Val was just showing me her new gem, and I was wondering what you and he thought of it.’

  ‘Both of us found it very impressive, not that we could tell much about it. It seems to be a showstone of sorts, though.’

  ‘I thought it was marvellous. It radiates an odd sort of power, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does, but what sort of power? That’s what I don’t know. Here, did Val let you look into it?’

  ‘She did. I saw a light moving in it, but it might just have been a reflection from the sunlight. It’s a crystal, after all.’

  ‘So it is. But the light moved?’

  ‘Back and forth, as if it were the end of a rope someone was swinging. When I told Val that, she got excited, but she doesn’t know what it means.’

  ‘Well, no doubt she’ll figure it out. She’s got quite an affinity for gems.’

  ‘She certainly does. Well, my thanks. I’ll find Da sooner or later, no doubt.’

  Loddlaen turned and walked away. Nevyn watched him till he disappeared among the tents and general clutter. I’ve got to do somewhat for that lad, he told himself. But I wonder if his father will let me?

  On the morrow, Aderyn’s healing work occupied him until mid-afternoon. When it came time to leave the disorder of the camp in order to work with the scroll, Valandario joined them. Aderyn insisted on Loddlaen coming along as well. Nevyn decided against arguing the point, mostly out of respect for his friend, but also because he wondered just how much of a dweomer gift Loddlaen might show.

  The four of them returned to the spot in the shade of the willow trees and settled themselves in the grass. As before, Aderyn paced out a protective circle. The blue light built up the pentagrams even faster and more solidly than it had the day before. Nevyn could feel power flowing from Valandario to contribute to the ritual, but from Loddlaen, nothing. Once they started working with the scroll, however, Loddlaen read off several of the red marginal notes and had information to add.

  ‘This one here, number seven,’ Loddlaen said. ‘The note says that ra-as corresponds to our word van-el, the East. Whoever wrote it didn’t realize that there’s an older Elvish word for east, ra-san-ah. I wonder if the two are related.’

  ‘That’s very interesting,’ Nevyn said. ‘Where did you hear it, ra-san-ah, I mean?’

  ‘In one of Dev’s songs, the one he does at the day of remembrance for the Great Burning. He learned the song from an older bard who learned it from a man who’d been alive at the time.’

  Nevyn began to think that indeed, he’d judged the lad’s gifts too harshly, but once they began reciting the formulae, it became obvious that Loddlaen’s knowledge came from the intellect, not from the deeper levels of the mind that need to resonat
e with dweomer workings if the workings are to have any effect.

  ‘Rah-as ee Sal-mah-noo par-ah-de-zo-od.’ Aderyn was reading from the seventh formula. ‘Oh-ay Kah-ree-mee Ah-ah-oh.’ He paused and turned to Loddlaen. ‘What images does that evoke for you?’

  ‘Images?’ Loddlaen said. ‘I don’t see any. Is it some sort of description?’

  ‘It is. Well, let’s try the next one.’

  As Aderyn continued to read from the scroll, Loddlaen’s response was always the same. He saw nothing, felt nothing from hearing this alien tongue. Finally, after Aderyn had read five separate formulae, his disappointment began to show in his voice. Loddlaen began to describe images, but they had nothing to do with the text or with the work Aderyn and Nevyn had done on the previous day.

  ‘You’re just making those up, aren’t you?’ Aderyn said finally. ‘You’re not really trying at all.’

  ‘Da, I am trying.’ Loddlaen kept his gaze on the grass in front of him. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Aderyn set his mouth in a little twist of a scowl.

  ‘You look tired to me, lad,’ Nevyn said briskly. ‘Sometimes simple weariness interferes with dweomer work, particularly speculative work like this.’ He turned to Aderyn. ‘I think he’s done enough for one day. Apprentices need to build their stamina slowly.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ Aderyn said. ‘Loddlaen, are you tired?’

  ‘I am, Da. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, no need to apologize!’ But Aderyn sounded downright peevish. ‘Did you want to just go back to camp?’

  Loddlaen smiled in evident relief. He got up, looked at Nevyn, mouthed a ‘thanks’, then turned and hurried off as if he were afraid his father would change his mind and insist he remain. When Nevyn glanced at Valandario, he found that she’d carefully arranged her face to reveal nothing at all. He wondered how often she’d witnessed similar scenes.

  It was Valandario’s turn to try working with the images. Although her responses were never as clear or strong as those of the two dweomermasters, she did receive impressions that matched the translations, especially when one of the formulae mentioned a gem.