She picked up the mending again and frowned at it with such concentration that Berwynna knew theyd been dismissed. She snuffled back her tears and wiped her eyes on her sleeve while Dougie patted her shoulder to comfort her. Hand in hand they went outside and sat down together on a wooden bench under an apple tree. Above them the white flowers were just peeking from their pale green buds.
Well now, Dougie said at last. So much for the grand speech Id stored up in my mind. I never got a chance to speak any of it.
It probably wouldnt have mattered. Mams got one of her ideas, and my dear sisters are dead-set against us, too, from what she said.
I dont understand. What did she mean about Avain seeing things?
Oh, she sees visions in a bowl of water. Berwynna looked down, saw a pebble on the path, and kicked it viciously away. Since shes a mooncalf, Mam and Marnmara say that the angels or the saints are sending her messages that way. I dont understand, and I dont agree, but you heard Mam.
I did, and a nasty thing it was to hear. Im willing to risk a fair lot of grief for you, but I dont want you sharing it.
Bless you! But Im willing to run the risk, too.
Dougie threw his arms around her, drew her close, and kissed her. She laughed in sheer pleasure and took another kiss, but just as he reached for a third, she heard a warning snarl of a cough behind her. Dougie let her go. Berwynna turned on the bench and saw old Lonna, arms akimbo, glaring at her. Dougie rose and bowed to the elderly dwarf.
Ill just be leaving, then, he said with a sigh. Fare thee well, my lady.
Ill walk with you to the landing. She spoke to Lonna in Dwarvish. Could you tell the boatmen to make ready?
Lonna made a sound that might have been yes, then turned and stomped off towards the manse.
Ye gods! Dougie lowered his voice to a whisper. Im beginning to understand why you want to get out of this place, truly.
Well, I dont want to leave it forever. I just want to see more of the world than Haen Marn. Berwynna paused, glancing around her. Theres not much of it, is there? Just one small island, and every now and then I get to go over to the mainland with Marnmara when she gathers wild herbs or if someones ill in the village. Once we got to go to your grandfathers dun, too, when the grooms wife was so ill. Thats all Ive ever seen, and all Ive ever known, and oh Dougie, Im sick to my heart of it!
I can understand that. Dougie patted her hand, then raised it to his lips and kissed it, fish stains and all. Let me think about this, lass. Mayhap I can come up with some scheme to get us married.
Berwynna walked him down to the jetty and saw him off. For a brief while she lingered on the pier and considered the boathouse, a roof and walls with lake water for a floor. A narrow walkway ran along one side to give the boatmen access to the ladder that led up to the loft where they slept. Besides the magnificent dragon boat, the island owned two coracles, a large one for the fishing, and a small craft that Marnmara and Berwynna used for their rare trips to the mainland. These hung out of the water from pegs on the boathouse walls.
The question, Berwynna decided, was whether she could creep into the boathouse at night, get the coracle down, and lower it into the water without making a splash or other noise that would wake the boatmen. Not likely, she thought. If only she could, she could row across and meet Dougie, and perhaps Father Colm would marry them before her family caught her. Even less likely, since he thinks Im a witch. She picked up a stone and hurled it into the water as hard as she could, then turned on her heel and stalked back to the manse.
In the great hall the others had gathered around Marnmara, who had come over to Angmars table to look at Dougies gift. Angmar sat to her right, the mending unnoticed in her lap, while Tirn stood just behind Marnmara and peered over her shoulder. When no Mainlanders were around, the island folk talked in one of the two languages that Angmar called our home tongues. Since Tirn knew no Dwarvish, they spoke the mountain dialect of Deverrian whenever he joined them. In fact, he seemed to know it oddly well, better than any of the rest of them. Berwynna sat down on a bench opposite her mother just as Marnmara opened the sack and slid out its contents: a book, bound in white leather, with a black leather piece in the shape of a dragon upon the cover.
Tirn gasped, tried to choke back the noise, then coughed. Marnmara twisted around to look up at him.
My apologies, he said. For a moment there I thought it was a book I used to own. That one had a black cover with a white dragon upon it.
Indeed? Marnmara said. What sort of book might it be? A grammarie?
Whats that? Tirn looked puzzled. Ive never heard that word before.
A book of spells. Marnmara was trying to suppress a grin.
Ah. Tirn hesitated, caught, then shrugged. Well, it was that, truly.
Marnmara allowed the grin to blossom. She opened the book randomly, then frowned at the page before her.
Be somewhat wrong? Angmar said.
I did hope I could read this, Marnmara said, but Ive not seen these letters ever before. She turned round again and looked Tirn full in the face. Except right there, tattooed on your skin. What language be they?
That of the Seelie Host, Tirn said.
Berwynna made the sign of the Holy Rood.
Truly? Angmar quirked one eyebrow. Now, I myself have seen such letters before, and they were made by someone as much flesh and blood as you are.
Tirn faces turned scarlet between his tattoos and scars.
My apologies, he said. You must know about the Ancients, then. Some call them the Westfolk, others the Ancients. Do they dwell in this country, too?
I know not, Angmar said, but they do dwell in my homeland. Indeed, the father of my daughters did have Westfolk blood in his veins. She leaned back to study his face. I think me that you come from the place the Deverry folk call Annwn, not from Alban, no, nor Cymru nor Lloegr, either.
Youve caught me out, my lady. Tirn smiled and ducked his head in apology. I didnt want to say anything at first because I thought youd never believe me. I didnt realize that you too hale from Deverry.
I come not from Deverry proper, but from the north of it, in the country known as Dwarveholt. Now, can you read that book?
Alas, I cannot in any true sense. I can read well enough in three languages, but that of the Ancients isnt one of them. Tirn raised his bandaged hand and pointed at the tattoo on his left cheek. These marks? Among my kin theyre thought to bring good luck or the favour of the gods. Theyre very old, and their meanings been long forgotten.
Angmar continued studying his face, while Marnmara paged through the book, frowning at a bit of writing here and there and shaking her head over the lot.
What I can do, Tirn went on, is sound out the letters, though I dont know what many words mean. Well, truly, theyre not letters in the way that the holy book of this country is writ in letters. Each one stands for a full sound, what mayhap would take two or three letters in some other tongue.
Everyone stared, puzzled, but Marnmara, who laid a finger on one mark. This one? she said.
Everyone stared, puzzled, but Marnmara, who laid a finger on one mark. This one? she said.
La, Tirn said, and the next is sounded drah.
Be you a scholar, then, Tirn? Berwynna said. Father Colm does warn against the studying of books, saying it leads to sorcery.
Does he? Tirn grinned at her. He may be right, then, for the first time in his fat life.
Berwynna began to laugh, then stifled the sound when Angmar glared at her. Tirn shifted his weight from foot to foot, then walked round to sit down on the same bench as Berwynna. She moved over to give him plenty of room. Angmar gave both of them a sour look.
Is somewhat wrong, my lady? Tirn said to Angmar.
There be Horsekin blood in your veins, baint? Angmar said.
Tirn blushed again, then nodded.
Mam, Mam! Marnmara looked up from the book with a sigh. Matters it to you, with all of us so far from home?
Not truly, Angmar said. I find truth sweeter than lies, is all.
It is, and I owe you an apology, Tirn said, but I feared youd have me killed or suchlike if you knew about the Horsekin.
If you realized not that we be from Annwn like you, Angmar said with some asperity, why did you think we might know about the Horsekin?
Tirn blushed again, then spoke hurriedly. Im an outlaw among them, you see, and Ill swear to the truth of that. Theyd kill me if they ever got hold of me.
Now, that I do believe, Angmar said, because of the fear in your voice.
Her mother and old Lonna had told Berwynna tales of the Horsekin, vicious killers who worshipped an evil demon named Alshandra. Now here was one of them, sitting next to her, a very ordinary man by the look of him, and badly injured to boot.
Do you believe in Alshandra, then? Berwynna said to him.
I dont, Tirn said, and thats why Im an outlaw.
I see. Angmar rose and began to collect the mending in a basket. Well and good, then.
Berwynna followed her mother out of the great hall and up the stairs to Angmars room. Shed been planning on badgering Angmar about Dougie, but her mothers mood had turned so grim that she thought better of the plan. Alone, they spoke in Dwarvish.
Mama, do you trust Tirn? Berwynna asked instead.
I dont, Angmar said. Theres somewhat more than a bit shifty about him beyond his Horsekin blood. I do believe him about being an outlaw, mind. I wonder, in fact, if his own kind gave him those burns and scars, a-torturing him somehow.
Ych!
Truly, theyre a cruel lot, the Horsekin. But be that as it may, Tirn knows lore that Marnmara needs if shes to get us home again.
Will we ever really go home, Berwynna said, wherever that is?
I have my hopes. It may not mean much to you, but I long to see your father again.
Well, of course. I wish I knew him, too. My father. It has such a distant ring to it, doesnt it? Even though youve told me about him, its not the same as knowing him.
Its not. Angmar allowed herself a long sigh. Ive tried to think of myself as a widow and stop longing for him, but deep in my heart Im sure hes still alive back home, if we could only get there. And I miss my homeland, too, the Dwarveholt.
Mam, Im sorry, I dont mean to slight what you treasure, but the land means naught to me. This is the only home Ive ever had.
I do understand that. But I have hopes that someday youll have better and find a better man, too.
This last was too much to bear. Please, please, tell me why I maynt marry Dougie? Berwynna said. I love him ever so much.
I know, but ye gods, it would ache my heart to go home but leave you here with your Dougie. Youre young, child. There will be other men
I dont want any of them.
Dougies the only handsome lad youve ever known. Angmar managed a smile. First love is the love that stings, or so they always say. But answer me this. Suppose you did marry your lad and go to live with him, and then we all disappeared without you. How would that feel?
Berwynna felt the blood drain from her face. The thought of losing her family
I see it doesnt sit well with you, Angmar said. Well, it could happen, were you to go live on Alban land. Haen Marn goes where it wills when it wills, and it doesnt bother with giving fair warning.
Then how come you let Marnmara go over to the mainland to heal the folk and suchlike?
Because the islands not going to go anywhere without her. That I know as surely as I know my own name.
Berwynna bit back the bitter words that threatened to break free of her mouth. Its always Mara, isnt it? she thought. Shes the important one, never me.
Laz had told the truth when hed told Angmar that he couldnt read the Westfolk language. He regretted it bitterly, too, thanks to that book of spells. So much dweomer so near but the book might as well lie on a table in Deverry for all the good it would do him. Wildfolk hunkered down on the table around the book, slender green gnomes, each with a cap made of rose petals. Now and then one of them would stretch out a timid finger and touch the edges of the page. When Marnmara threatened to swat them, they disappeared. For some while Laz watched Marnmara turn pages, her stare as fierce as a warriors, as if she could force the meaning from the alien letters by sheer will. Not one word can I read, she announced. And the whole thing be writ in the same markings.
So it looked to me, Laz said, and it aches my heart, I tell you.
No doubt. Here. She pushed the heavy book across the table towards him. Mayhap if you sound out more of the marks, you might find a word or two you know. I do hope that somehow this book holds the dweomer to take us all home again, though I do have this strange feeling in my heart that it be naught of the sort.
Let me take a look, then.
Using his wrists rather than his damaged hands, Laz managed to turn the book right side up in front of him. Marnmara moved to sit next to him and turn the pages when he asked. As he sounded out letters from the syllabary, he did come across words he knew, most of them useless, such as next, then, and, is and the like. Still, Marnmara watched him so admiringly that he kept going.
Turn all the way back to the first page, Laz said finally. If youd be so kind.
Marnmara did as he asked.
On the top of that first page a line of symbols, larger than the rest, had been carefully painted in red. Laz sounded them out several times. Thanks to the Westfolk custom of putting dots between words to set them apart, he managed to form them up into something he could guess at.
Now this first word, he said, is a verb of some kind. That is, its the name of an act, a thing you do. I can tell by this sound at the beginning. It stands for keh and that means an action follows.
A wide-eyed Mara nodded, taking it all in.
And this sound at the end, he continued, means how or why one does this action. Alas! I dont know what the action is. However, Im fairly sure this next word means a dragon, because that name sounds much the same in several tongues, drahkanonen among the Westfolk, draeg in Deverrian, and drakonis among the Bardekians.