Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [46]
“If that man of yours isn’t going to wonder where you are, that is. Don’t want to make him turn nasty and beat you.”
“Oh, he’ll be looking for a hire all day. That’s why I knew I could get away.”
They settled down companionably to their lunch. It was easy to ask innocent questions and get the old woman to reminiscing about various times she’d used the lore.
“Now, here,” Jill said at last, “suppose I run into trouble somewhere else along the road. Do you think I’ll be able to find another Wise Woman?”
“Depends where you ride. But usually you can find one of us if you look hard enough.”
“Of course, you’d hardly know. It’s not like you could travel and meet places or suchlike.”
“True enough, but every now and then, you hear a bit of news.”
Jill was wondering how deeply she dared pry when they heard horses riding into the farmyard. The hounds leapt up and barked their way out the front door with Gram right behind them. When Jill hurried after, she saw the three lasses from the gwerbret’s dun dismounting while Gram kicked the dogs away.
“We got one for you,” the youngest-looking announced. “Here, Gram.”
The lass handed over something wrapped in a bit of cloth, oozing a few drops of blood.
“Now that’s kind of you. He looks like a good big raven.”
“He is. And I got my falcon back before he spoiled too many feathers, too.”
The oldest of the lasses suddenly yelped and pointed to Jill, standing in the doorway.
“Nothing to worry about,” Gram said. “Just a lass, for all she’s got that dagger and them men’s clothes.”
“I’d best get back to my man,” Jill said. “My thanks, Gram, for all your help.”
“You’re welcome, Jill. And don’t you let that man of yours know where you’ve been. I don’t want him beating you for it.”
When Jill mounted her horse, she was aware of the three noble ladies watching her wide-eyed in curiosity. Jill bowed to them from the saddle, then rode out, turning into the road and trotting fast for the river road. On the way back to town, she pitched the pot of salve into the river, but she kept the charm to show Rhodry and put his fears to rest.
When she got back to the tavern, they went straight up to their dusty wedge-shaped chamber and closed the shutters over the window. They sat down on the floor, away from the bedbugs in the straw mattress.
“Here.” Jill handed him the charm. “She says that if you unwrap it, you’ll spoil the dweomer, so you’d best do just that.”
Handling it as gingerly as a horse turd, Rhodry pulled the bit of cloth away to reveal a tiny stick, whittled into an unmistakable phallic shape and bound round with the strands of his hair.
“Oh, by the hells,” Rhodry snapped. “And what was this supposed to do to me?”
“Can’t you guess from the shape? You can just toss it into the fire downstairs.”
“I’ll do naught of the sort! It might have some strange effect on me.”
“Rhodry! I swear you believe it’s real.”
“Well, how do I know it isn’t real enough in its way?”
They compromised on burying the charm out behind the stables, where it was unlikely that anyone would ever dig it up again. Although Jill teased Rhodry for his concern, she wondered why she was so sure that the charm was useless—her usual instinct, she supposed. All her life, she’d been able to tell what dweomer was and what dweomer was not, just as she had always been able to see the Wildfolk. Rhodry tamped the earth over the charm with the heel of his riding boot and stamped on it hard for good measure.
“Now, kindly don’t go buying any more of these from her, will you? Did you learn anything worth knowing while you were there?”
“Nothing directly about Mallona. But the gwerbret’s daughters came riding up while I was there, and they seem to be up to their pretty elbows in this muck.”
“What? Now, this could be dangerous. Someone should tell his grace.”
“Not just