Good child. But truly, you lasses must stop thinking of little things like a mans looks. Most good-looking men are so horribly vain well, Sevvi dear, your fathers an exception, truly, but hes the only one Ive ever met and anyway its things like steadiness and kindness that matter in a marriage, not curly hair and blue eyes.
Of course, the three girls chorused.
Oh I know! Caffa waggled a playful finger at them. I was your age once, wasnt I? But its time for all of you to think of the things that matter. We shall have lots of nice chats now that Sevvis here.
When Lady Caffa turned away, Babryan rolled her eyes heavenward, and all three girls broke out giggling.
Dinner that night was a splendid meal, as every meal seemed to be in the gwerbrets palace. The gwerbret and his family ate at a carved and polished table near a hearth inlaid with Bardek tiles. On the other side of the enormous hall, a warband of two hundred men sat listening to their own bard. Servants in spotless embroidered clothes silently and gracefully served four elaborate courses, starting with a vegetable aspic made in colourful layers as intricate as the tiles and ending with an apple cake soaked in fine mead. While Sevinna desperately tried to mimic her cousins delicate manners, she watched this guest, who, or so Caffa had made clear, had been invited expressly to look over the gwerbrets unmarried niece. Although his title was simple, Lord Timryc was one of the Kings own equerries with a large holding of land near the Holy City itself. He seemed a pleasant enough fellow, about thirty, with sandy-blond hair, a prominent chin, and undeniably kind eyes. Every now and then he would look Sevinnas way and smile at her, a gesture that flustered her so much that she would bury her nose in her water-goblet. When at the end of the meal the ladies retired to their hall, Sevinna was profoundly glad to be gone.
Caffa took the girls to her own hall, a vast round room where Bardek tapestries hung at intervals on the walls and cushioned furniture stood in profusion. The serving women lit candles in silver sconces, then sat down on cushions near the mistresss chair.
Well, Sevinna dearest, Caffa said. He seems a very nice man. Not too young, of course, but his first wife died in labour, you see. Hes been consolidating his position at court, and a man like that can hold out for a good match. But anyway, I think we shall arrange a little riding party tomorrow. She glanced at Wbridda. Now Bry, if you mind your manners and that tongue of yours, you may join us and bring your little falcon.
My thanks, Mam, Wbridda said. Dont worry, I wont get in the way. He looks dull to me.
Now hush, Caffa snapped. You may all go upstairs.
No sooner were they safely in their own hall than Babryan wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue.
Hes too old. You can do better than that, Sevvi.
I hope so, Sevinna said. I didnt like his chin, either.
Its his beastly position that Manias so smitten with, Wbridda put in. But he just wont do.
Im glad you agree with me. Well, maybe he wont like me. My father cant give me that big a dowry, after all. Wbridda smiled in an oddly sly way and sat down on a chair with a flounce of her dresses.
We can make sure hes not interested. Cant we, Baba?
If we have to. Weve got somewhat to tell you, Sevvi. Its a secret, so youve got to promise youll never tell anyone, especially a man.
Of course Ill promise. What is it?
Its a thing we learned from Lady Davylla. Shes the wife of Lord Elyc of Belgwerger.
All the ladies are doing it, Wbridda put in. Thats why weve got to keep it a secret, you see. But anyway, Lady Davylla spends lots of time in court, and she says that even the princesses know. I dont know about the Queen, though.
Oh, shes doubtless too busy with all that court stuff she has to do. But its ever so amusing, Sevvi, and Ill wager it works.
What?
You have to swear first, Babryan said. Just a promise wont do. Come on, Bry. Go get your little knife. Well do it by the fire.
While Wbridda rummaged through her jewellery casket, Babryan put out all the candles so that the only light was a pool from the fire. When Sevinna and Babryan knelt down in the flickering shadows, Babryan giggled in pleasant excitement, and Sevinna caught her mood. Whatever this mysterious something was, it was much more amusing to think about than marrying a man she hardly knew. Wbridda knelt down beside them and opened her hand to show Sevinna a tiny knife with a silver handle and a blade of black obsidian.
Lady Davylla has a Wise Woman living in her dun, Wbridda explained. Shes awfully awfully old, she doesnt even have any teeth, but she knows everything. She makes these knives, you see. Lady Davylla gives them to her special friends, and she gave one to us.
What are they for?
Well tell you once you swear, Babryan said. Here, were going to have to have a bit of your hair and a drop of your blood, but it wont hurt. That knifes awfully sharp.
Wbridda cut off a tiny bit of Sevinnas hair and laid it on the hearthstone, then pricked her index finger and squeezed a drop of blood onto the hair. Sevinna sucked her fingertip.
Now youve got to swear youll never repeat any of this to one who doesnt know the goddess, Babryan said.
Which goddess?
We cant say yet. Just swear.
All right. I swear I wont betray the secrets to one who doesnt know the goddess.
And to any man ever.
And to any man ever.
Babryan picked up the bit of hair and threw it into the fire.
Aranrhodda, she called out. Aranrhodda, favour our cousin and us, too, for bringing her to you!
The bit of hair caught and burned with a drift of stench in the wood smoke. Sevinna went cold, wondering what shed just done to herself, wishing shed asked more before shed sworn the vow, but Babryan and Wbridda were giggling. Oh, there cant be any harm in it, Sevinna thought, not if theyd do it.
There, now youre one of us, Babryan announced. Lady Davylla will probably ride our way soon for a visit, and youll get to meet her. Oh, shes ever so splendid.
But anyway, Wbridda said. If you dont like this Timryc fellow, well just work a charm to turn him cold to you. You can work lots of charms when you learn how, Sevvi. Theres one to turn a man cold to you, and one to make him love you, and one to make your father or brother favour the man you favour, just lots of them.
Oh here, Sevinna said. I thought you didnt even care what men did.
Well, its all going to come in handy someday. Wbridda shrugged. I dont want to marry some dry stick of a man just because Da says I have to. This way theres stuff you can do about it, you see. Otherwise there isnt.
Sevinna nodded. She did see, entirely too well.
On the morrow, Gwerbret Tudvulc called Sevinna into his private council chamber for a little chat. Her uncle, so tall and stout and noisy, had always intimidated Sevinna, and being dependent on his charity only frightened her the more. Tudvulc sat her down in a chair and strode back and forth by an open window while they talked. His mop of brown hair and moustache had gone quite grey since the last time shed seen him.
Now here, lass. No use in mincing words, eh? I want you to take a good look at Timryc here. Hes got splendid connections, a good bit of land. Youd have plenty of pretty dresses from a man like that, eh?
Sevinna smiled out of duty alone.
But theres no use in jumping at the first hare out of the bushes, either, Tudvulc went on. Youre my niece, got connections of your own, and youre blasted good-looking, too. A pretty face is worth half a dowry, eh? So you just wait and see what kind of game we can beat out of the forest, lass. No rush. Youre always welcome at my table.
His grace is ever so kind. Sevinna bowed her head. Im willing to wait for the right match.
Good, good. Never know about you lasses, eh? Most of you are so eager to get that crown of roses on your head you cant think straight. He gave her a twisted grin that was doubtless meant to be jolly and avuncular. Oh, the gwerbret of Buccbrael has a young son, too. Be a cursed good alliance for both our clans, and I hear the lads already turning the heads of the local lasses. Good-looking sort. A year or two younger than you, but young men grow faster with a wife in their bed. Well see what we can turn up, truly.
Bowing, a page appeared in the doorway.
Your Grace? Theres a messenger here from the gwerbret of Caenmetyn. He says it concerns an urgent matter of justice, an escaped murderer.
Indeed? Send him straight in. Here, lass, you run along to your aunt and have a nice little ride.
Sevinna rose, curtsied and made a grateful escape. In the corridor she passed the messenger, a warrior with the blazon of Caenmetyn on his road-stained shirt.
The afternoons expedition rode slowly along the grassy banks of the Sironaver, sparkling in the sun, until they came to a spot where willow trees had been planted to give some shade for just this sort of party. The grass had been trimmed back with a scythe, too, and beds of bright flowers made pleasant curves by the riverbank. When the others dismounted, Wbridda, with her falcon on her gloved wrist and one of the pages riding behind, went off into the grasslands to hunt. As shed been told to do, Sevinna waited a moment before dismounting. Sure enough, Lord Timryc hurried to her side to help her down from her side-saddle. His hands were strong on her waist, his smile carefully courtly as he set her down.
This is truly a lovely place, Timryc said. Will my lady honour me by walking down the river to see the view?
My thanks, my lord. What a pretty thought.
As they walked, Sevinna found herself tongue-tied; all she could do was ask him questions about his life at court, but the questions had to be carefully phrased, as it would be most discourteous if he thought she were prying into his financial worth or standing. Fortunately, Timryc had no difficulty at all keeping a conversation going, especially when the subject was himself. Sevinna was amazed at how often he could mention the times the King had spoken to him or the Queen had thanked him for some favour.
Getting back to the privacy of the womens quarters was like finding refuge from a storm. Sevinna sank gratefully into a chair and wondered if she could feign a headache to get out of sitting next to Timryc at dinner. Babryan sat down next to her and gave Wbridda a scowl.
Go change that dress! Youve got blood all over your sleeve.
We had a good hunt, Wbridda said. Two sparrows and a crow.
Ugh! I dont care. Or wait! Did you get some of the crows feathers?
With a grin, Wbridda pulled three black tail feathers out of her kirtle and held them up.
Those are ever so useful for charms, Sevvi, Babryan explained. If you dont want Lord Timryc, well work one tonight on him.
Oh splendid! Because I dont.
The girls waited till late that night to make the charm. Wbridda brought one of the black feathers, Babryan, a candle-end, and Sevinna, a bone stylus. They crouched down close to the hearth, and Babryan laid the candle-end down a little distance from the flames.
Well let the wax soften.
All right, Sevinna said. Now here, though, this wont make his lordship sick or anything, will it?
Oh, of course not, Wbridda chimed in. Its awfully hard to make someone sick or have them die or suchlike. Youve got to have bits of their fingernails or hair, and youve got to have special herb-oil, and youve got to work the charms nine times at midnight and do all sorts of stuff.
All right, then. Hes only an awful bore. I dont want to cause him any harm. Do you know anyone whos ever worked this charm before?
Oh, lots of people, Babryan said. Lady Davyllas sisters, and then their friends. I dont know anyone whos ever worked the death curse, though. Oooh! That would be awful. Youd have to really hate someone.
I bet Lady Davyllas Wise Woman could do it, though, Wbridda said. Or one of her friends.
Theres some round Lughcarn, too, Babryan added. Weve got a little silver chain Lady Davyllas Wise Woman gave us, you see. If we show it to one of the Wise Women here, theyll know that were their friends.
Have you talked to any of them? Sevinna said.
Not yet, because its so hard to get away from Mam. Now that youre here, well have to think of a way to do it. We can pretend to hunt with falcons or suchlike. Itll be ever so exciting.
Lets do it soon, Sevinna said. Look, the wax is getting really soft.
Babryan picked up the warm candle-end and kneaded it into the shape of a heart. When it was cool, Sevinna scratched Timrycs mark onto the surface, then handed it to Wbridda, who stuck the shaft of the feather into the wax. While Sevinna held the heart over the fire, the other two began to chant Aranrhoddas name. She threw the heart into the hottest part of the fire and watched as the feather singed and flared.
Let his regard for her melt, melt, melt, Babryan chanted.
For a moment the heart held steady, then began to twist and run. The wax flared with a plume of black smoke. Sevinna was suddenly frightened: it seemed that a face looked out of the flames, a pair of eyes, dark and grim, looking her straight in the face and marking her presence.
Aranrhodda, Aranrhodda, Aranrhodda! Babryan was whispering the chant over and over. Let his heart melt, melt, melt.
The face disappeared; there was only the fire and the flaring wax along a log. Sevinna felt herself shuddering as if she knelt by a winter window instead of a roaring fire.
Black thatch covered the inn roof, the inn yard stank from a dirty stable, and the innkeep kept picking at a boil on his face, but the place was the only one in Lughcarn that would take in silver daggers. All the time they were sweeping out stalls and tending their horses, Rhodry grumbled, but Jill ignored him. He grumbled about the food, too, and she had to admit that fried turnips flecked with mutton werent her favourite dinner, but when he insisted on wiping the rim of the tankard with the hem of his shirt before he drank from it, shed had enough.
Oh, stop it! I suppose you think we should be sleeping in the gwerbrets broch!
Dont pour vinegar in my wounds. I have stayed in the dun, and its the memory that aches my heart now.
Huh. Do you think his grace would remember you?
Most like. Ah by the black ass of the Lord of Hell, I hope our paths dont cross. The last thing I want is for his grace to see me now, a lousy silver dagger.