Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [92]
“I don't jest, my good man. Put squares of glass into some sort of frame. It lets the light through and keeps out the wind.”
“And that would cost our lady what? A year's taxes at the very least! No lord out here could stand the expense.”
“Well, I suppose so. I—Ah, here's Lady Rhodda now.”
With a wave Rhodda came hurrying across the ward. She was wearing a pair of dresses of the finest blue linen, but she'd pulled up the long loose sleeves and tied them behind her neck like a farmwife to leave her tanned arms free. Since last he'd seen her, her dark elven eyes had lost none of their beauty. Her raven hair, though, had grown streaks of silver, and she wore it bound round her head in thick braids. Since she'd never married, she wore no head scarf.
“Well, this is a surprise!” Rhodda said. “I've not seen you in many a year.”
“Has it been so long?” Evandar bowed to her. “Well, most likely so, and I'm sorry for that, my lady. But here I am, and I've brought you an interesting thing.”
“Oh have you now? Another book from the Holy City?”
“Not quite. Somewhat even rarer. A map, and it's from southern Bardek.”
In her study at the very top of the broch they spread the papyrus scroll out on a table. Rhodda whistled under her breath and ran a graceful finger along a line of elven writing.
“This looks new,” she said. “Where did you find it?”
“It's a copy, so indeed it's new, but the original is very old. As to where, you know, my lady, that a humble pedlar like myself has to keep his secrets.”
“Huh. Was it one of those collegia you keep telling me about?”
“What? Did I—”
“Dropped hints and riddles, that's what you did, about wonderful places in the Southern Isles where people meet to read and talk together. I dream about them sometimes.”
“Imph. I'm not going to say.”
“Then you stole it somewhere.”
“Naught of the sort! My dear Lady Rhodda!”
Rhodda laughed and continued studying the map. Evandar wandered round the room, a full floor of the broch and crammed with oddments. On the wall hung a line of shields, blazoned with the devices of the lords of Cannobaen—the grappling badgers of the original Maelwaedds, the dragon of Aberwyn that had come to them upon their elevation to the gwerbretrhyn, the red lion of Lovyan's clan, and finally, the dragon device yet once again, this one slashed with a bend sinister. Wooden cabinets filled the center of the room, and near the window stood a lectern, carved with badgers.
Over the years Rhodda had collected nearly twenty ancient books and over fifty copies of newer works as well, an absolute fortune's worth of learning in those days. To keep the air dry in Cannobaen's fogs, a peat fire smouldered in the hearth, but a few of the oldest books smelled of mildew nonetheless. One of them lay open on the lectern to a page so faded he could barely make it out: a list of the symbols in the Elvish syllabary, each labelled with its equivalent in Deverry letters. On a table nearby lay cut parchments, ruled and ready for writing—raw material for Rhodda's own book, a history of Eldidd and the Westlands.
“Can this truly be Rinbaladelan?” Rhodda looked up from the map at last. “Or is it just some scribe's fancy?”
Evandar debated. She would believe the truth much less readily than a lie.
“I have my doubts, too.” He joined her at the table. “I suspect that it's part fancy but mostly truth. Most likely some fragments of old maps survived, and perhaps an ancient book or two described more of the city, and then some scribe years ago put it all together on a map, which was copied here.” He tapped the parchment with one finger.
“That sounds reasonable. How much do you want for it?”
Rhodda straightened up and looked at him, her eyes narrow, her head tilted a little to one side. At that moment she resembled Rhodry so much that he smiled.
“It would gladden my heart,” he said, “if you'd take it as a gift.”
“What? Now that's a surprise!”
“I mean it truly. I'm on my way west, and I doubt me if I'll ever come here again, and I want you to have this to remember