THESILVER MAGE
BOOK SEVEN OF THEDRAGON MAGE
KATHARINE KERR
COPYRIGHT
HarperCollinsPublishers
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Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published by HarperVoyager An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 2009
Copyright © Katharine Kerr 2009
Katharine Kerr asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007287369
Ebook Edition © AUGUST 2014 ISBN: 9780007301935
Version: 2014-08-04
DEDICATION
For Howard First, Last, and Always
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue: The Northlands Summer, 1160
Part I: The Northlands Autumn
Part II: The Northlands Summer, 1160
Epilogue: The Westlands Autumn, 1160
Keep Reading
Authors Note
Glossary
A Note on Dating
Table of Incarnations
About the Author
Also by the Author
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
The Northlands Summer, 1160
The serpent of Time winds itself about the cross of Matter. Some say it has seven heads, some only three, but the difference counts for little. It is the body of the serpent, not the head, that crushes its prey.
The Secret Book of Cadwallon the Druid
Death had turned Dougies hair white and his flesh translucent. In the darkness he glowed with a faint silvery light as he stood smiling at Berwynna.
Remember me, lass, he said in the language of Alban, but live your life, too. I loved you enough to wish you every happiness. Find a new man.
I dont want to, Berwynna said. The only thing I want is for you to come back to me.
This is as far back as I can come, just up to this side of dying. Wynni, live your life!
He vanished.
Berwynna screamed and sat up, scattering blankets. She found herself in a round tent so unfamiliar that for a moment she thought she still dreamt. The Ancients, she reminded herself. Im safe among the Ancients, but Dougies dead. The first light of dawn fell like a grey pillar through the smoke hole in the centre of the roof. Across from her, on the far side of the tent, a bundle of blankets stirred and yawned. Uncle Mic sat up and peered at her through the uncertain light.
Are you all right? he said in Dwarvish. Did you make some sort of a sound just now?
I was dreaming, she said. In the dream I saw Dougie, and when he disappeared, I screamed.
Ai, my poor little niece! Mic paused to rub his face with both hands and yawn prodigiously. It sounded like a moan, here in the waking world.
That would fit, too.
Mic let his hands fall into his lap. From outside came the noises of a camp stirring awake dogs barking, people talking in an unfamiliar language, occasionally a child crying or calling out. Distantly a horse whinnied, and mules brayed in answer.
We might as well get up, Berwynna said.
Indeed, and I wouldnt mind a bit of breakfast, either.
Theyd both slept dressed. Mic pulled on his boots, then got up and left the tent. Berwynna busied herself with rolling up their bedrolls.
Berwynna? Dallandra pulled back the tent flap and came in. Youre awake, then?
I am, my lady.
Theres no need to call me lady, Dallandra said with a smile. I wanted to tell you that your fathers flown off to scout the Northlands. He asked me to give you his love and to tell you hell be back again as soon as he can.
My thanks. Berwynna bit her lip in disappointment. Id wanted to say farewell.
Dragons come and go as they please, not as we want, Im afraid. He also told me about the lost dragon book.
Berwynna winced. Dallandra sat down opposite her. In the pale light from the rising dawn, she seemed made of silver, with her ash blonde hair, steel grey eyes, and her pale skin, so unexpected in a person who lived most of her life out of doors. Silver or mayhap steel, Berwynna thought, like the pictures on the doors of Lin Serr.
In a moment Ill have to go tend the wounded men, Dallandra said. But I wanted to ask you about the book. Youve seen it, I take it.
I have, Berwynna said. Not that I were able to read a word of it, mind. Laz, he did say that it be written in the language of the Ancients, your language, that be.
It was written, then, in letters?
Be not all books written so?
They are, truly. Dallandra smiled at her. But some also have pictures in them.
I never did see such, but then, my sister wouldnt be allowing me to turn its pages, and no doubt she were right about that, too. What little I did see did look to me much like the carvings on our walls.
The what?
Forgive me. Berwynna smiled briefly. I do forget youve not seen Haen Marn. In the great hall, the walls, they be of wood, and there be carvings all over them, letters and such, I do suppose them to be. Laz, he did call some of them sigils, whatever those may be.
Theyre a particular type of sign, a mark that stands for the name of a thing or a place or suchlike. Dallandra paused. Well, that will do as an explanation, though its not a very good one.
Twill do for me, truly. But the book, it were such a magical thing. It does ache my heart that I had somewhat to do with the losing of it.
No ones blaming you, Wynni. Try not to blame yourself. Youre exhausted, youre mourning your betrothed, and every little things going to weigh upon you now. One of these days your mind will be clearer, and youll be better able to judge what happened.
Ill hope that be true.
It is true. I lost a man I loved very much, and I thought at the time that Id mourn him all my life. In time, I laid my mourning aside and found another love. So I know how you must feel.
You must, truly. For the first time since Dougies death, Berwynna felt not hope, precisely, but a rational thought, that one day hope would come. My thanks for the telling of this.
Youre most welcome. Dallandra reached over and patted her on the shoulder. Now, about the book, though, Id like to know how large it was, how thick, how many pages.
As to the pages, well, now, I be not sure of that. It were a great heavy thing Berwynna stopped, struck by a sudden realization. At least, it were at first, when Dougie did bring it to Haen Marn. But it did shrink.
It what?
I did carry it once on Haen Marn, and it were so heavy that there were a need on me to clasp it in both arms. Berwynna demonstrated by holding her empty arms out in front of her. But when I did take it from the island, it did fit most haply in one of my saddlebags.
Thats extremely interesting.
Laz did talk of guardian spirits. Think you they do have the power to change it oh, that sounds so daft!
Not daft at all. Thats exactly what I think must have happened. A person with very powerful dweomer made that book. Dallandra got up, stretching her back as if it pained her. My apologies, but I truly do have to go now. Your uncle should be here with your breakfast in a moment, but please, feel free to leave this tent. Come out whenever youre ready. This will be your first day in a Westfolk alar, so everythings going to seem strange to you, but your other uncle Ebañy, his name is will be glad to introduce you around.
My thanks. Berwynna rose and joined her. Be there any help I may give you?
Not needed. I have apprentices. Dallandra cocked her head to one side to listen. Ah, heres Mic now. She strode over and held the tent flap open.
My thanks, Mic said as he ducked inside. He was carrying a basket in one hand and a pottery bowl in the other. Bread and soft cheese, Wynni.
Berwynna took the bowl from him. When she glanced around, Dallandra had already gone, slipping out in silence.
Dallandra found Neb and Ranadario at work in the big tent that the alar had allocated to its healers. Ranadario was explaining how to bandage a bad wound on the upper arm of one of the Cerr Cawnen men while Neb listened, his head cocked a little to one side as if he were afraid that her words would evade him. Their patient, a beefy blond fellow with the odd name of Hound, kept his eyes shut tight and panted in pain. The wound had cut deep into the side of his upper arm, missing the largest blood vessels but severing muscles and tendons. Dallandra doubted that hed ever be able to use the arm properly again.
Ranadario, Dallandra said in Deverrian. Did you give him willow water to drink?
I did, Wise One, Ranadario said. This cut is healing so slowly, though.
Hound opened his eyes and stared at her. His breathing turned ragged, and Neb laid a hand on his unwounded shoulder to steady him.
Not slowly for a child of Aethyr. Dalla paused for a quick smile to reassure him. Its doing as well as we can expect. Dont you worry, now. Itll heal up soon.
Hound returned the smile, then shut his eyes again.
With her apprentices to help her, Dallandra tended the wounds of the two Cerr Cawnen men and did what she hoped was right for the wounds of the others, four of them Horsekin and one a half-blood fellow. Since those whod sustained the worst cuts in the fight to save the caravan had all died during their journey south, she could be fairly confident that those whod lived to reach her would recover.
When she left the tent, Neb followed her with his fat-bellied yellow gnome trailing after. For a moment he merely looked up at the sky as if he were expecting rain. The gnome kicked him hard in the nearer shin.
Dalla, Neb said, I owe you an apology.
The gnome grinned and vanished.
You do, truly. She kept her voice gentle. I wondered when it would come.
Prides an infection in itself. He was studying the ground between them. I should have spoken before this. I never should have tried to ride away like that.
Well, its not like youre the only man or woman either to kick like a balky horse during training. Its a common enough stage in the apprenticeship, especially among the lads.
Neb winced, his shoulders a little high, as if he expected a blow. Common, is it? His voice choked on the words.
Very, actually. Dallandra felt genuinely sorry for his humiliation, but hed earned every moment of it. I take it youre no longer so confused. Your decision about becoming a healer who incorporates dweomer into his work is a truly good one.
At that he looked up again.
Now, Im a healer, certainly, Dallandra continued, but its only a craft for me. Youre hoping to try somewhat new.
Hoping is about right. I dont know if I can or not.
No more do I, but I wager youll succeed. At this stage youve got to learn both crafts down to the last jot.
I know that now. Nebs voice rang with sincerity. And I promise you that Ill gather every scrap of knowledge that I possibly can.
Good! Thats all anyone can ask of you. Now wed both best clean up. Ive got gore all over my hands, and your tunic is a fearsome sight.
Dallandra had just finished washing her blood-stained hands in a bucket of water when one of the Cerr Cawnen men walked over, another beefy blond with narrow blue eyes, a common type among the Rhiddaer men, who were descended from the northern tribes of Old Ones, as the original inhabitants of the Deverrian lands used to be known. This particular fellow introduced himself as Richt, the caravan master.