The Spirit Stone. Katharine Kerr

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СКАЧАТЬ by a rank of windows. Four long wooden writing tables stood by the windows, and at the nearest, a pair of young scribes were making copies of a royal decree. Petyc spoke to each of them, checked their work, then led Nevyn into a smaller chamber, lined with wooden shelves, where leather-bound codices exhaled a faint smell of dust and old parchment. Most of the volumes seemed to be household accounts and bound correspondence, but Nevyn was gratified to see a fairly new copy of Queen Bellyra’s history of Dun Cerrmor.

      ‘A most interesting compendium, isn’t it?’ Petyc nodded in its direction. ‘She also left part of a manuscript about Dun Deverry itself.’

      ‘Ah, it’s survived, then.’

      ‘It has. The original’s down in Wmmglaedd, but we have copies here. Let me get you the annals we were speaking of.’

      Petyc squatted down in order to ferret about on a low shelf. Eventually he brought out a splendidly bound book, its wooden cover engraved with interlace and painted in red and gold. He thumbed through it and found the passage at the end.

      ‘You will forgive my humble style, of course.’

      ‘Oh, but the lettering’s splendid. The proportions are most just and fluid.’

      Petyc allowed himself a small smile. Nevyn read over the passage while Petyc watched amazed, simply because Nevyn was one of the few men in the kingdom who could read silently rather than aloud.

      ‘The most sorrowful death of Prince Cwnol was nearly deflected,’ the passage ran. ‘But his wyrd came upon him, and no man could turn it aside, not even Gwairyc, son of Glaswyn. When the foul traitors closed around the prince on the field, Gwairyc thrust himself forward and fought like a god, not a man, attempting to save his prince. He slew four men and carried the prince alive back in his arms, but alas, the wounds were too deep to bind. In honour of his bravery, Prince Casyl counted him as a friend from that day on and commends his memory to all who might read this book.’

      ‘Nicely phrased.’ Nevyn closed the book and handed it back. ‘Did he truly slay four men by himself?’

      ‘So Casyl told me at the time – Prince Casyl, as he was. His father was still alive then, of course. I’ve never seen a battle, myself.’

      ‘You may count yourself quite lucky. Is Gwairyc still in Casyl’s favour now that Casyl’s king?’

      ‘He is.’ Petyc looked briefly sour. ‘He’s one of the many younger sons of the Rams of Hendyr – do you know them? A fine old clan, truly, but perhaps a bit too prolific for their own good. Gwairyc got himself into the king’s warband because of his skill with a sword, and now that he has his chance at royal favour, he sticks closer to the king than wet linen.’

      Nevyn was about to ask more when the chamberlain came bustling in. A stout man with flabby hands and neatly trimmed grey hair and beard, Gathry made Petyc’s earlier prediction come true.

      ‘Alas, good Nevyn,’ he said, ‘the king is much distracted these days. The Cerrgonney wars and all.’

      Petyc thoughtfully turned his back so that Nevyn could slip Gathry a velvet pouch of coins. The councillor patted his shirt briefly, and the pouch disappeared.

      ‘But you know,’ Gathry continued, ‘I do believe that our liege might have a few free moments this very afternoon. Allow me to go inquire.’

      The chamberlain bustled out again, only to return remarkably fast with the news that indeed, the king had a few moments to give one of his subjects. Nevyn followed Gathry up a long staircase and through a door into the central tower, where they went down a half-flight of steps to a pair of carved double doors. Gathry threw them open with a flourish and bowed his way inside. Nevyn recognized the half-round chamber; it had been the women’s hall when Maryn was king.

      All of Bellyra’s cushioned chairs and silver oddments had long since been replaced. On the stone walls hung tapestries of hunting scenes and hunting weapons – boar spears, bows and quivers of arrows, a maul for cracking the skulls of wounded game – displayed on iron hooks. The furnishings consisted of one long rectangular table and a scatter of benches. A pair of much-faded banners appliqued with red wyverns hung on the flat wooden wall, and in front of them in a half-round carved chair sat the king.

      Thanks to the royal line’s dubious inbreeding, Casyl looked much like Aeryc: the same squarish face, the same wide green eyes and tight-lipped smile, but his shock of hair was a dark brown, not blond like his grandfather’s. His long, nervous fingers played with a jewelled dagger. When Gathry started to kneel, the king pointed the dagger at him.

      ‘Leave us. Come in, my lord Nevyn.’

      Bowing, Gathry hurried out backwards and carefully shut the doors behind him. When the king nodded at a nearby bench, Nevyn sat.

      ‘Very well, ‘ Casyl said. ‘This is one of the few places in the dun where we won’t be overheard. I trust you’ll forgive the lack of ceremony.’

      ‘Ceremony means little to a man like me, your highness.’

      ‘So I thought.’ Casyl ran his thumb along the dagger’s hilt. ‘My scribes tell me many an interesting thing about men named Nevyn. Are they true?’

      ‘Do you doubt it after seeing me in the candle-flames?’

      Casyl’s hand tightened so hard on the dagger hilt that his knuckles went white. Nevyn said nothing. In a moment, the king glanced at his belt, took his time sheathing the dagger, then finally looked up.

      ‘King Aeryc was a very long-lived man,’ Casyl said. ‘I had the privilege denied to most men of knowing my grandfather. He made a point of telling me when I was a little lad never mock the dweomer.’

      ‘Aeryc was wise. My master in magic told me much about him.’

      ‘I’m honoured that you’d seek me out. But tell me, does this mean some great trouble coming to me and mine?’

      Nevyn almost laughed. He’d forgotten that most men saw the dweomer only in terms of dark and portentous warnings of doom.

      ‘Not in the least, my liege. I’ve only come to give you a gift, one that I hope will prevent such troubles.’

      At that, Casyl smiled, but his eyes stayed wary.

      ‘I’ve brought you a gem, a dweomer-stone,’ Nevyn went on. ‘And I’ll beg you to guard it as the greatest treasure you have and to pass it on to your son when the time comes. Will you promise me that, my liege, as one man to another?’

      ‘Gladly. Here, I never dreamt there truly was such a thing as magical jewels.’

      ‘They’re quite rare, your highness, as well you can imagine.’

      Nevyn brought out the pouch and unwrapped the opal, laying it onto the long table. Before he could offer to bring it to the king, Casyl got up and strode over for a look. When he saw the perfect opal gleaming among its silks, he gasped aloud. He reached out his hand, then stopped.

      ‘May I touch it?’

      ‘By all means, your highness. If it pleases you, do look into it. I’d be most interested in what you might see there.’

      Gingerly, as if he were approaching a wounded wild animal, the СКАЧАТЬ