The Spirit Stone. Katharine Kerr

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The Spirit Stone - Katharine  Kerr


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local miller remembered that you could find small grey hogs up in the hills.

      ‘Pigs, they get loose now and then,’ the miller said. ‘Go wild, they do, breed amongst themselves. There’s a right proper herd of swine by now, I’d wager. Our local werrbret hunts them now and again, but he don’t claim them or nothing, so the pork’s free for the taking.’

      Werrbret. Gwairyc was so startled by the man’s accent that he nearly gasped aloud. He covered the sound with a quick cough. ‘Hogs, eh?’ Wffyn turned to Nevyn and lowered his voice. ‘That farmer and his wife – why would they act so strange, like, if they were just hunting wild pig?’

      ‘Indeed. I wonder – I’ve heard rumours about slavers landing their boats in the wild places along the coast. No doubt there are ways of finding out where, if you have somewhat to sell.’

      ‘Gods!’ Wffyn spat on the straw-covered floor. ‘You could well be right, good sir.’

      ‘I’d rather be wrong, truly. Come to think of it, why would they risk maiming the merchandise? That snare was a dangerous thing.’

      ‘Well, if someone were wearing boots and hadn’t rolled up his brigga, either, it wouldn’t bite very deep.’

      ‘True spoken.’ Nevyn frowned down at his tankard. ‘Even a good thick wrap of rags would protect the leg to some degree. On the way home, tell your men to keep their boots on.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t think I’ll need to tell them.’

      Nevyn agreed with a smile, then turned to Gwairyc. ‘You look like somewhat’s troubling you, lad. Is it about these slavers?’

      ‘What? It’s not. I was just wondering why the Eldidd folk speak a fair bit different than we do, with their werrbret and all, and then the way they roll their R’s around.’

      ‘I’m surprised you’d notice such a thing.’

      Gwairyc shrugged in feigned indifference. Someone must have told me about it, he decided. He refused to believe anything else, despite a voice from deep in his mind that persisted in whispering: you remember.

      Tirro’s scalp was beginning to sprout a blond fuzz, marred by a few small circles of ringworm. Nevyn had him sit on a bale of goods in the strong morning sun and turn his head this way and that just to make sure that the spots were on the verge of disappearing. As he worked, he was also inspecting Tirro for something entirely different. He’d begun to suspect that he’d known this unfortunate little scoundrel before, during one of Tirro’s earlier lives, someone with a nature equally flawed. He would have to find some excuse for staring into Tirro’s eyes before he could be certain. At the moment Wffyn stood nearby and watched the inspection.

      ‘Very good,’ Nevyn announced. ‘You can burn that ghastly linen cap, lad, but keep putting salve on those spots.’

      ‘I will, sir,’ Tirro said. ‘Thank you, sir.’

      ‘One more thing.’ Nevyn pounced on the white lie that suddenly occurred to him. ‘I don’t like the appearance of your left eye. Getting a trace of this particular salve in your eye can be a very bad thing. Here, tip your head up and look me right in the face.’

      Tirro caught his breath with a small gulp of fear.

      ‘Go on,’ Wffyn snapped. ‘Do what the herbman wants.’

      Tirro gulped again and caught his shaking hands between his knees. So! Nevyn thought. He’s got some reason to fear me, has he? Tirro raised his head, glanced at Nevyn, and immediately looked down again.

      ‘Come along, Tirro,’ Nevyn said. ‘I won’t bite.’

      Once again the boy raised his head. This time he did manage to look at Nevyn for a few beats of a heart – enough. Brour! Nevyn thought. That slimy little renegade! Aloud, he said, ‘Ah, splendid! The eye looks fine. I thought I saw a swelling, but it must just have been some trick of the light. You can go now.’

      Tirro jumped up and ran, heading for the herd of mules. Nevyn watched as he disappeared among them.

      ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you.’ Wffyn stepped forward. ‘Will you be travelling on with us a-ways? A man as good with his herbs as you are, Nevyn, is welcome everywhere.’

      ‘That’s very kind of you,’ Nevyn said. ‘I’m thinking of going all the way west to Aberwyn or thereabouts.’

      ‘We’ll certainly be going that far and beyond, since we’re going to trade with the Westfolk.’

      ‘True spoken. Where are you planning on crossing the Delonderiel?’

      ‘A good distance north of Aberwyn, actually, just north of the Pyrdon border. Now, some will tell you that’s the long way round, but I’ve found better horses up in the Peddroloc region than I have at the southern trading grounds nearer to Aberwyn. Is that too far out of your way?’

      ‘It may be. We’ll stay with you till you reach the Gwynaver, though. We can always turn south from there.’

      Not long after, however, an old friend gave Nevyn a reason to travel the entire way with Wffyn. Some hundreds of years before, Nevyn had taken on a young apprentice in the dweomer, Aderyn by name, who had gone to live among the Westfolk. Over the years, Nevyn had kept in touch with his former apprentice, now a master in his own right. At night when both of them were near a fire, they could reach each other’s minds through the flames.

      Since he needed only a few hours of sleep a night, Nevyn generally was the last person awake when the caravan camped. That particular evening he was sitting up by the dying fire, tending the glowing coals and watching the salamanders leaping and playing among the last of the flames, when he felt someone tugging at his mind. The contact strengthened so readily that he knew it had to be Aderyn, and sure enough, his ex-apprentice’s image built up as if his face floated on fire.

      ‘It’s good to see you,’ Nevyn thought to him.

      ‘And the same to you. In fact, I’m hoping to see a fair bit more of you.’ Aderyn’s image smiled at him. ‘I was wondering if you were planning on riding our way this summer.’

      ‘Not planning on visiting you, precisely, but I’m in Eldidd at the moment. There’s no reason I couldn’t ride a little further.’

      ‘Excellent! One of my former students has joined my alar – Valandario her name is. Have you met her?’

      ‘Not that I remember,’ Nevyn said. ‘Which means naught, of course. I may well have.’

      ‘She’d heard about your work with the Great Stone of the West, and so she –’

      ‘Wait a moment. How did she hear about it? It’s not precisely a secret, but I don’t want a lot of talk, either. Did you tell her?’

      ‘You know, I don’t think I did.’ Aderyn’s image frowned in thought. ‘I don’t know where she did learn of it.’

      ‘Ask her if you get a chance, will you?’

      ‘I will. Val’s always had a special affinity for gems. Now just recently, at the summer festival, I happened to meet her. She wanted to know if she could ask your advice about a particular gem.’

      ‘Can she speak through the fire? I’ll be glad to talk with her. I learned a fair bit about gem dweomer in Bardek.’

      ‘She can certainly try.’ Aderyn sounded and looked more than a little doubtful. ‘It’s not one of her stronger gifts, though she’s learning. But we wondered if you might actually come out here, or if we could meet you perhaps in Eldidd. She thinks you’ll need to see this stone for yourself.’

      ‘Well and good, then. I’m travelling with a merchant who’s bound for your trading grounds. I’ll continue on with him.’

      ‘Splendid! I’m truly glad to hear it, and I’m sure Valandario will be, too. Come to think of it, maybe you can also help


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