Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [56]
“Oh, well, don’t forget. My husband’s off with one of his allies on that matter of justice. We’ll be able to slip out easily enough.”
All that afternoon, while the others prepared the necessary implements for the rite, Sevinna was wondering if she could possibly get out of it, perhaps by feigning a headache. Her reluctance must have shown, because Taurra took her aside at one point to reassure her.
“Now, really. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of our Lady of the Cauldron.”
“Not afraid.” Sevinna lied blandly. “But one must be properly respectful, mustn’t one? I don’t want to take the Goddess’s favors too lightly.”
“Nicely spoken. You know, Sevinna dearest, I think you might have true calling for the Old Lore. Your cousins are such lovely lasses, and so earnest, but it takes someone very special indeed to serve the Goddess properly. Don’t tell them I said this, mind, but someday you could have ever so much more power than they ever will.”
It was very flattering, especially when Lady Taurra was smiling so gently and her eyes were so intense, as if she were looking deep into Sevinna’s soul.
“My lady is very kind,” Sevinna said.
Taurra gave her a little pat on the arm and went on staring into her eyes. Suddenly, Sevinna found it hard to look away.
“We’re going to be such friends.” Taurra’s voice turned as soft and as penetrating as oil. “I simply know it, such friends. Aren’t we, dear? Tell me you’ll be my friend.”
“Of course I’ll be your friend.”
Taurra gave her one last pat on the arm, then left the chamber. Sevinna sat down on her bed and felt her head throb in earnest. When she tried to remember what Taurra had said, she found it gone from her mind.
That night, even though the chamberlain moaned and fussed, and the equerry blustered and wagged his finger, the women insisted on riding out without an escort, and since neither servitor could directly order Davylla to stay, ride out alone they did, just an hour after the moon rose. They left the city and followed the river road through the silvery night until they came to a tangled spinney of hazels growing close to the water’s edge. There they tied up the horses and walked farther on.
“This looks like a good spot,” Taurra announced. “Now, here, Sevinna dearest. You come stand where you can see the moonlight on the river.”
When Sevinna took her place, the other women stood back, but Taurra took a stone-bladed knife out of her sack and knelt. Chanting as she worked, she cut a circle in the turf round Sevinna’s feet. She took a bronze mirror out of the sack, laid that down nearby, fussing over it until it caught the moonlight, then cut a second circle round the mirror. She got up and joined the others, handing them each a bundle of herbs tied with strips of black cloth.
“Now, watch the mirror, Sevinna,” Taurra said, “while we chant.”
The women formed a ring around Sevinna and began to circle, their voices soft and light, their steps solemn as they danced gravely widdershins. Aranrhodda! Aranrhodda! The chant was like a drug, muddling Sevinna’s mind. She looked at the moonstruck mirror and tried to see something in the curved and distorted surface as the chanting went on and on.
“Kneel down,” Taurra called out. “Kneel down and look.”
Feeling as if she were drunk, Sevinna did as she was bid. The moonlight caught the mirror and turned it silver, a misty color on the pitted surface. The women chanted and sang as they moved in their round dance. Suddenly, Sevinna wanted this thing over with.
“I see something!” she squealed.
Taurra stepped up the chant and led the women faster. In the distorted surface, Sevinna could see a pattern of shadow much like a face. She realized that if she’d been in love with someone, it would have been easy to convince herself she saw him there. With one last wail of Aranrhodda’s name, the chant stopped, and Babryan rushed over.
“Who did you see? Was he handsome?”
“He looked nice, but not handsome. With dark hair, and big dark eyes, and he seemed youngish and awfully kind. He