The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [104]
“I wasn’t, my lord. She never took no notice of me till that last horrible day. Of the siege, I mean.”
“I see. Did you ever hear a tale about a baby she was supposed to have had, one sired by a demon?”
“Oh, that!” Pavva laughed, wrinkling her nose. “The women did say the strangest things about that, but I never believed none of it.”
“I don’t suppose you know when she supposedly had this child?”
“I don’t, my lord.”
Nevyn handed her a couple of coppers and let her get back to work. By then he’d forgotten the flyting song. Later, of course, he would curse himself for a fool.
“Good morrow, Lilli.”
Lilli spun around and curtsied. Lost in shadows, the prince was standing in the doorway of the main broch. Out in the sunny day she’d walked straight past without seeing him.
“My apologies, my liege,” she said. “I’m much distracted, I fear, with my studies.”
“So it would seem.” Maryn turned, glanced into the great hall, then stepped outside. “Will you honor me by taking a little stroll?”
“If my liege commands.”
Maryn stepped back as if she’d slapped him. Lilli looked demurely down at the cobbles, but she felt as if she were shaking with fever. Never in her life had she wanted anything, it seemed, as badly as she wanted the prince.
“I’d not command anything,” Maryn said at last. “It was just a passing thought.”
“I thank my liege for thinking of me, but—”
“But you have work on hand for Nevyn?”
“Just that, my liege.”
“Oh well, then, far be it from me to interfere.” Maryn turned on his heel and strode back into the great hall.
Lilli let out her breath in a sharp sigh and walked on, heading for the side broch and Nevyn’s chamber. She found Nevyn downstairs, however, standing just inside the outer door, where he’d apparently watched her exchange with the prince.
“That was very well done,” Nevyn said. “I’m proud of you.”
“My thanks.” Lilli felt tears gathering and irritably wiped them away on the back of her hand. “I keep thinking about the princess, my lord.”
“Good. I was hoping that was the case. Maryn’s a man like any other, and he’ll take his amusements as they do, but the princess, unfortunately, is not the usual noble-born wife.”
“So I can see. And she’s been so good and so generous to me.”
“So she has.”
“Did you see the prince lurking and come down to meet me?”
“I didn’t. I’m waiting for Otho, the silver dagger’s smith.” Nevyn suddenly smiled. “You look so surprised! But don’t forget, Otho’s the man who made our wretched casket. I want to discuss it with him.”
Otho arrived not long after, carrying a leather bag, clanking with tools. A short man but heavily muscled, with a neatly trimmed grey beard and grey grizzled hair, he wore a leather apron over a dirty pair of brigga and a linen shirt pockmarked with tiny burns.
“Morrow,” he said. “So. What’s happened to the casket?”
“Naught, I think,” Nevyn said. “But I have to be sure.”
The three of them went up to Nevyn’s chamber. Nevyn had carried the casket back from Cerrmor wrapped in straw inside a rough wood box, decorated on each side with five-pointed stars and other magical symbols, which he’d drawn with a swab of cloth dipped into ink to make bold lines. In turn he’d hidden his handiwork inside three old cloth sacks. This whole arrangement had been sitting under his table ever since they’d arrived back.
Nevyn dragged it out, stripped off the outer layers, and set the silver casket on the table. Otho picked it up and studied it, turning it this way and that, holding it over his head to examine the bottom.
“Well, now,” Otho said. “It looks solid. If someone had tampered with it, my lord, I’d know it.”
When he pressed the catch, the lid popped open to reveal the smooth silver interior.
“No marks on it here, either.” Otho tapped the flat bottom with one finger. “Under this, Lady Lilli, is the curse tablet, in a sealed compartment of its own.”
“And of course, there are magical seals set upon it as well,” Nevyn said. “Can you see them, Lilli? Let your eyes go slack, the way I showed you,