The Black Raven

by Katharine Kerr

  “Take good care of our princess for me,” Lilli said.

  “I will. And you take good care of yourself. You’re my princess.”

  She smiled with such pleasure that he leaned down and kissed her, just a chaste brush of his mouth on hers, there in front of the troop. All at once he saw the Wildfolk, popping into manifestation, flapping their skinny little hands at him as if to warn him of some danger. Startled he looked up to see Prince Maryn striding over, accompanied by pages and his two councillors. Lilli went decidedly white about the mouth. With a murmured farewell she walked off fast, heading for nowhere, it seemed, disappearing among the confusion of walls and towers.

  “Branno, ‘ware,” Maddyn whispered. “I think me the prince has some interest in your lady himself.”

  Branoic felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach, but he managed a decent bow. When he started to kneel, Maryn stopped him, smiling a little, but his eyes had gone as hard as steel.

  “My thanks, silver daggers,” Maryn said. “I’ll charge you to bring my lady and her women back with all possible speed.”

  “Then so we shall, Your Highness,” Maddyn said. “Nevyn, do you have letters for the princess?”

  “I do.” Nevyn handed the bard a pair of silver message tubes. “And may your journey be a pleasant one.”

  With the usual shouting of orders and the confusion of horses, the troop mounted up and rode out. Behind them creaked a slab-sided cart, filled with supplies for the journey. As they filed out of the dun, Branoic rode up and down the line, chivvying everyone into a decent marching order. He said a few cheery words to the pair of men stuck behind the cart in the dusty rear guard, then trotted back to fall in beside Maddyn. The troop rode clear of the final wall around the fortress and headed through the ruined city for the south gates.

  “What was that again, Maddo lad?” Branoic said. “About the prince?”

  Maddyn glanced back, judging the distance between them and the first pair of riders.

  “I can’t be sure,” Maddyn said. “But I’ll wager that the prince envies you your lady. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

  “Ah. Oh horseshit!”

  “Just so.”

  “If I were a lass, and I had a choice twixt the High King of all Deverry and a silver dagger, and a silver dagger I am still, whether I get that land or no, I doubt me if I’d think twice about which I’d choose.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’ve told Lilli you want an honorable marriage. Who knows how long the prince’s fancy for the lass will last? He has his pick of half the women in the kingdom, and the other half are too old.”

  When Maddyn laughed, Branoic glowered at him until the bard fell silent.

  “My apologies,” Maddyn said. “I don’t mean to twist a knife in a wound.”

  Branoic shrugged the concern away. He thought hard, but he found only one thing worth saying.

  “Ah horseshit!”

  Prince Maryn and his entourage stayed in the ward until the silver daggers had ridden out of sight. As he turned to go, Maryn hesitated and gestured Nevyn over. Oggyn and the pages waited expectantly, but the prince waved them away. The pages ran off shouting to join the other boys at the far end of the ward. Oggyn withdrew so slowly that he practically crawled into the great hall. Maryn waited until he was well gone.

  “Branoic told me he wants to marry,” Maryn said. “I take it that Lilli is the woman.”

  “She is, Your Highness,” Nevyn said.

  Maryn’s face might have been carved of wood. For a moment the silence held.

  “Will you prevent them?” Nevyn said finally.

  “Of course not! Ye gods, what do you think I am?” Maryn’s composure splintered into rage. “Your wretched apprentice has made it clear that she thinks me beneath her, and by the Lord of Hell’s arse, that’s that!”

  Maryn stormed off, heading for the stables. So that’s what’s wounded him! Nevyn thought to himself. He allowed himself the luxury of wishing that he could take his apprentice and go off into the wilderness where they could both devote themselves to dweomer and dweomer alone. Unfortunately, the kingdom needed him just where he was.

  It seemed to Lilli that wherever she walked in the dun, Maryn would be waiting. Most times he was accompanied by his entourage, and he would restrain himself to a glance her way or a few pleasant words. She would curtsy and keep her eyes modestly downturned, just as Bevyan had taught her, until he walked on and released her. Every now and then, however, she would come face-to-face with him alone in some empty corridor or isolated corner of the ward. At those times court manners did her no good. He never pressed her, never came within two feet of her, in fact, but he could have been halfway across a room and still her traitor body would have responded to his smile.

  On a rainy morning she woke suddenly to the sound of a rustle at the door. She sat up on the verge of screaming. The memory of her mother’s ghost oozing around her chamber was all too fresh in her mind. In the grey light and early shadows nothing moved. When she summoned her courage and looked at the door, she saw a scrap of something white lying on the floor. A letter of some sort? She rose, picked it up, and scurried back to her warm bed to study it. Although she was making good progress in learning to read, she still had to sound out most words a letter or so at a time.

  “There is someone whose heart aches each night when he dreams of you.”

  That was all it said, no signature, no hint of who this someone might be. Maryn was her first thought, but she couldn’t imagine the prince entrusting this sort of sentiment to a scribe. She puzzled over the letter for a long while. Perfectly clear letters formed graceful words—perhaps she had captured the interest of one of the heralds? Finally, she hid it under her pillow, then dressed and began her day. Down in the great hall she got chunks of bread and some apples, wrapped them in a napkin, then dashed through the rain to the half-broch that housed Nevyn’s chamber.

  Just inside the door Maryn stood waiting for her. With her hands full of breakfast she couldn’t even drop a proper curtsy. He smiled at her, then looked her over with a hungry appreciation.

  “Tell me, Lady Lillorigga,” he said at last. “Did you sleep well last night?”

  Could he be referring to the note?

  “I did, my liege.”

  He stepped toward her, she stepped back and reached the wall. Maryn put one hand on the wall near her head and leaned toward her, but he kept himself from actually touching her. Lilli felt her heart pounding and clutched her bundle to her chest.

  “My liege,” she stammered, “Nevyn could come down any moment.”

  “Would it distress you if he did?”

  “It would most assuredly distress him!”

  At that he laughed, straightened up, and stepped back.

  “My lady speaks true,” Maryn said. “And it’s not a pretty sight, Nevyn when distressed.”

  The prince bowed to her, then left, striding across the ward as if not even a downpour could trouble his dignity. Lilli took to the stairs, but the climb bothered her more than usual. By the time she knocked on Nevyn’s door, she was gasping. Nevyn opened the door, caught her arm, and helped her inside. She laid the bundle down on the table and sat down heavily in the chair.

  “What’s so wrong?” Nevyn said.

  “Rain. Thick air.”

  “I begin to worry about the winter. How it will affect you, I mean.” Nevyn opened the napkin. “Ah, my thanks! You’d best rest before you try to eat.”

  Lilli nodded for want of breath to speak. Nevyn took half the bread and one apple, then sat on the wide win-dowsill to eat. He was looking down at the ward, and all of a sudden he scowled.

  “I wish our prince had enough sense to get in out of the rain,” Nevyn remarked.

  “Is he still out there?”

  “He is, staring up at this window. What was he doing, lying in wait when you walked over from the great hall?”

  “Just that. I don’t understand! He could have any woman in
this dun. I’m not even that pretty. Everyone tells me I’m too thin, and I puff and gasp all the time.”

  “My dear child!” Nevyn turned away from the window. “I’m afraid you’ve worked a mighty act of dweomer that’s captured his very soul.”

  “I never meant to! What did I do?”

  “You said him nay. I don’t suppose there’s been one lass in his entire life who ever refused him before.”

  Lilli stared, feeling utterly stupid. Nevyn was smiling, but in the most kindly way possible.

  “You see,” he went on, “now that you’ve rebuffed him, he’s not able to leave you alone. It’s the challenge of the thing. Not, I hasten to add, that the challenge is more important than your charms. But the former adds considerably to the latter.”

  “I do see. And I suppose my being fond of Branoic’s not helped the matter any.”

  “It’s not. Are you truly fond of Branno?”

  “I am. He’s the only man I’ve ever met who listens to me. Well, except for you, my lord.”

  “That recommends him, indeed.” Nevyn considered for a long moment. “I don’t know how your Wyrd will run, Lilli, when it comes to mastering the dweomer. You’ve got gifts, but many do, and it’s a rare soul who can master them. But I do know Tieryn Peddyc wanted to see you settled in a good place in life, and so do I. I’m not a young man anymore, and I’d hate to think what might happen if I weren’t here to protect you.”

  Lilli turned ice-cold and laid a hand at her throat.

  “I’d hate to think as well,” she whispered. “If I couldn’t stay at court, I’d end up living on my brother’s charity.”

  “Now, here, I’ve upset you! Forgive me. I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, I promise you.” Nevyn smiled at her. “Eat your breakfast, and we’ll put these matters to one side.” He glanced back down at the ward. “Ah, the prince has gone in. Later I’d best attend him to make sure he’s not given himself the rheum.”

  Lilli giggled and helped herself to bread.

  “My lord?” she said. “The strangest thing happened this morning. Someone slipped a love note under my door. I’ve not the slightest idea who did it.”

  “The prince, most like.”

  “Well, but surely he wouldn’t let a scribe know?”

  “Ah.” Nevyn suddenly smiled. “Of course you don’t realize that Maryn can read and write. His father was a most farseeing man and insisted upon it. Here, you’ve gone as red as a beet!”

  “Well, I was thinking that it couldn’t have been him, because I’ve never known a noble-born man who knew letters.”

  “This one, alas, does. Don’t answer it.”

  “I shan’t, my lord. Never fear.”

  “But ye gods! It gripes my soul to think of him sneaking through the corridors of the dun. There are times when even natural dignity fails a man, and when he makes a fool of himself over a lass is one of them.”

  “True spoken. Maybe he sent someone else to deliver it.”

  “I’ll hope so.”

  Yet later Lilli wondered, when she was thinking over what Nevyn had told her, if not answering would only provoke Maryn further. She could not honestly say if she feared or hoped that it would.

  Despite the rain the silver daggers had an easy ride down to Cerrmor and reached the dun after an eightnight on the road. Since the prince had sent speeded couriers ahead of them, Lord Tammael, the chamberlain, had their old barracks ready. They turned their horses over to the servants, stowed their gear, then went to the great hall for the evening meal.

  It was just sunset, and the last bloom of light gilded the pale slate roofs of the towers. A sea breeze caught the pennants and snapped them out, while the Red Wyvern banners on the walls swelled and rustled. The ward stood empty and quiet, the cobbles freshly swept. The men walked slowly, in deference to Red-haired Trevyr’s limp, and spoke only in low voices, as if they were afraid to break this moment of peace.

  “I’ll miss Cerrmor,” Maddyn said.

  “It’s a better place to be barracked, truly,” Branoic said. “Dun Deverry crimps a man’s soul.”

  In the great hall candles glimmered; in both hearths peat fires smouldered to keep the autumnal chill off the stone walls. Up on the dais, at the table of honor, the princess and her women were already seated, wearing dresses of bright silks, green, gold, blue. The silver daggers reclaimed their old places at the tables directly below. Maddyn took the message tubes out of his shirt and walked over to the dais. When the princess acknowledged him with a nod, he bowed to her.

  “Letters from Nevyn, Your Highness.”

  “Oh, splendid!” Bellyra said. “Here, page! Fetch those from Maddyn, will you?”

  A boy trotted over, and Maddyn handed the letters up.

  “Did you have a decent ride down?” Bellyra went on. “I didn’t expect to see my escort so soon.”

  “We did, Your Highness. Your husband’s vassals gave us shelter and suchlike, so the horses never tired.”

  “Good, good. You’ll have a slower ride back, no doubt. Lord Tammael convinced me that we need to travel by barge.”

  “That’s wise, Your Highness. You’ll want to bring some of your fine furnishings with you. Dun Deverry’s a poor sort of place these days. It’s seen too much fighting.”

  The three women exchanged grim glances.

  “My thanks for the warning,” Bellyra said. “But don’t let me keep you standing there. You must be good and tired. Do sit down and have some ale and suchlike.”

  “My thanks.”

  The rest of the silver daggers were already tearing into chunks of bread and washing them down with Cerrmor’s good dark ale. Maddyn took his place at the head of the table nearest the dais. As captain he had a proper chair, and it was good to lean back comfortably with a tankard.

  “The princess looks well,” Branoic remarked.

  “She does at that. I’m glad to see it.”

  The two serving women were discussing some matter, perhaps the furnishings, but Bellyra had opened Nevyn’s letters and was reading them, holding them up at an angle to catch the last of the sunlight in the room. Her pale hair, caught back in a little kerchief as casually as a farmwife’s, rippled down nearly to her waist and glimmered in the light. She was frowning, her striking green eyes narrowed in thought as she read, but now and again she smiled, no doubt at some jest of Nevyn’s.

  Branoic had just said something to him. Maddyn turned to him with a smile.

  “What?” Maddyn said. “Sorry.”

  “Do you want more ale? The lass is here with the flagon.” Branoic jerked his thumb in the general direction of the servant girl.

  “I don’t, my thanks. I’ve barely tasted this.”

  “So I thought. Is somewhat wrong?”

  “It’s not. I’m tired, truly, after the long ride down. I’m not as old as Nevyn yet, but ye gods, there are times when I feel my years.”

  Tired or no, in the morning Maddyn woke long before the rest of the silver daggers. He dressed without waking anyone, then took his harp in its big leather bag and crept out of the barracks. In the center of Dun Cerrmor stood a royal garden, where an ancient willow tree grew next to a stream and roses bloomed. When the silver daggers had first come to Cerrmor, Princess Bellyra had given Maddyn leave to visit it as he wished, and it was his favorite place to sit and practice his music. Among the echoing stones the harp sounded so sweetly that he could almost convince himself that he was a decent harper.

  When he played, the Wildfolk gathered to listen, sylphs and gnomes, while in the stream undines rose up and clustered at the grassy bank. This particular morning the music drew another listener as well. Maddyn had just finished a difficult set of runs when he heard the little door in the wall open behind him. He glanced back and saw the princess.

  “Don’t get up or suchlike,” Bellyra said. “I’ll just join you if I may.”

  “I’d be honored, Your Highness.”

  Bellyra walked over and sat down facing him. She was wear
ing a pair of linen dresses, worn soft and shiny. She wiggled her bare feet in the grass like a child.

  “It’s nice out here, in the cool of the morning,” she remarked.

  “It is, indeed. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “Oh, hardly! Degwa and Elyssa have been up since dawn, packing up things and running here and there to make sure they’ve not forgotten anything. We’ll need two barges if they keep this up. Is the royal dun truly awful?”

  “Truly. Black grim stone, and ye gods, it’s crammed with towers and broken walls and suchlike. I think half the furnishings must have gone as firewood during the sieges. I remember how Cerrmor was, when we first brought the prince here. Well, Dun Deverry’s far worse.”

  Bellyra made a sour face.

  “Then Decci’s right,” she said. “We do need to take lots of tapestries and carpets. And the silverwork, of course. That will help brighten things up.”

  “Which reminds me. Otho sends his best to you, Your Highness.”

  “Dear Otho! It gladdens my heart to hear that he’s well. I rather worried about him.”

  “You can rest assured that he went nowhere near the fighting. Now, the looting was another matter entirely. He asked me to tell you that he’s picked up some old silver here and there, for the melting down, and so he’ll have a surprise for you when you reach Dun Deverry.”

  “Ah, lovely! What is it?”

  “I can’t tell you, Your Highness. Otho would skin me alive.”

  She laughed, wrinkling her nose at him, then wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned back, looking up at the patch of sky above the pale stone walls.

  “Play something, Maddo,” she said. “Songs or airs, it doesn’t matter. I do love the sound of that old harp of yours. You do know that the other bards would all love to get it away from you, don’t you?”

  “I do. Several of them have offered me gold, over the years, but I always turned it down.”