Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [52]
“It’s true,” he whispered. “You’ve seen our ancient shame, mazrak. How? In a scrying crystal? Did the spirits come to you and bring you visions? How?”
“Not magic at all, but memory, the story passed down and down the long years by bards, or even written in books. I have a book, Meer, that tells the story whole and speaks of your people as well, but as they were that thousand years or more ago. Not all the folk who lived in those cities died. Some escaped to find a refuge and remember the harsh Wyrd that had fallen upon their people. Some live west of here. Others sailed in boats far, far to the south across the sea, and there they live to this day.”
For a long time Meer sat with his head turned as it would have been if he’d had eyes to stare at her. At last he turned away with a long sigh.
“I will speak no more to you, mazrak. I am, however, going to think about what you say.”
“My thanks, and that’s all I’d ask of you.” She turned to Jahdo. “So, lad. You come from the Rhiddaer, do you?”
“I do. I mean, uh, I didn’t know you’d know about that. Or be that writ down in one of them books, too?”
“It is, indeed. But I’m probably the only person in all of Deverry who’s both heard of the Rhiddaer and cares one whit about it, so don’t let it trouble your heart. I can understand why you don’t want the Slavers to come meddling with your country.”
“Good, ‘cause we don’t.” Jahdo summoned every shred of courage he had. “We be free now, and free we’ll stay.”
“And I promise you somewhat, lad. I’d die myself before I’d let anyone enslave your folk again. I mean that from the very bottom of my heart. It was a wrong thing that Deverry men did when they stole your people’s land and freedom, and those of us who serve the dweomer have condemned it from the very beginning.”
The quiet way she spoke convinced Jahdo that she meant every word of it. His eyes filled with tears again, and he found he couldn’t speak.
“Tell me somewhat, mazrak,” Meer broke in. Apparently he could no longer stand his self-imposed silence, not when there was lore to be had. “May I ask you a question in, turn for those you’ve been asking me?”
“Of course, though I may not answer, since at times you won’t answer me.”
“Fair enough. You know about Jahdo’s people, and your name sounds as if it came from his country. Have you lived there, then?”
“I haven’t, but I’ve heard tales from the Westfolk, the horseherders who live out on the grasslands between our two peoples.”
“Horseherders!” Jahdo blurted. “See, Meer, I were right.”
“Just so. Now hush.”
“There are some of them in the dun right now, Jahdo.” Jill smiled, attempting to be kind. “You’ll see them sooner or later. I’ve made it my affair to gather as much information as I can, you see, about both the Rhiddaer and the Gel da’Thae—not that it’s been much of a harvest.”
“Indeed? But what about your name?”
“Just a nickname my father gave me, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find it goes back to some ancestor of mine who was a bondwoman. Jahdo, from what I’ve been able to learn, while your people may have adopted the Deverry language, your names spring from the old tongues of your ancestors, not from ours, because people cling to their names and pass them down. And not all your ancestors escaped Deverry entirely. Many years ago, when we were having some horrible wars, a lot of bondfolk found themselves without masters. Some claimed their land as freedmen and stayed where they were; others went to other provinces to settle down and farm there.”
“No one made them go back?” Jahdo asked.
“They were too valuable where they were. The noble-born learned an interesting lesson, back in those days of civil war. If there weren’t any farmers to give them food in taxes, they’d have to farm themselves if they were going to eat, and well, now, they wouldn’t have been very noble, then, would they?”
Jahdo laughed.
“Now we come to my case,” Jill went on. “I was as aminheddic as a lass can be. Do you know that word? You look puzzled.”
“I don’t, my apologies.”
“Well, a binheddic man is a man