The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [143]
“True enough. But I’ll wager the priests of Wmm will want copies anyway when you’re done.”
“Truly?” Bellyra raised one eyebrow. “It will be tainted, after all, because I’m a woman.”
“The priesthood of Wmm may not admit women, but it doesn’t hold them in scorn, either, the way the priesthood of Bel does. Your book will be very welcome, I assure you.”
“That’s gratifying. I was wondering if anyone else but me would ever care, you see.”
“Oh, I think your book will have a good many readers over the years. We’ll get the scribes to make up several copies.” Nevyn paused, blinking as if at a sudden thought. “You’ve been questioning the various servants, haven’t you?”
“I have. They’re ever so flattered, too, that someone will listen to them.”
“Well, I was wondering. Have you heard any tales of ghosts? In particular, a woman with blonde hair dressed in mourning—she speaks of a daughter that someone’s stolen from her.”
Bellyra considered for a moment.
“I’ve not,” she said at last. “I did hear that there used to be a haunted side tower attached to the royal broch. They had it torn down some eighty years ago to quiet the ghost in it.”
“What sort of ghost, did they say?”
“A young lad, a claimant to the throne, who was walled up alive in his chamber and allowed to starve to death.”
“Ych! Well, that’s not what I was looking for.”
“Indeed? You mean you have a particular spirit in mind?”
“I do. If she appeared to the servants, they’d think her a ghost, but she’s another sort of apparition entirely.”
“Ych, indeed!” Bellyra shuddered at a touch of cold on the back of her neck. “Well, I’ve only talked with a few people so far. If I hear anything, I’ll be sure to tell you.”
A bit of asking around did bring her several more ghost tales, but none fit the description Nevyn had given her. She recorded them anyway, to add excitement should anyone want to read her histories.
Nevyn was having no more luck than the princess when it came to discovering the nature of the mysterious spirit who assumed Merodda’s form. His books described nothing like her, his meditations told him nothing, and even the Lords of the Elements knew nothing of such as she. Once he saw her walking along the corridor that led to Merodda’s old chambers, but at the sight of him she vanished. Finally, after some weeks of his futile investigations, Lilli saw her again.
“It was just as I was waking, my lord,” Lilli told him. “I thought at first it was a dream about my mother. I do have them, now and again. But anyway, she was standing by the table in my chamber, and she looked just like my mother when she was angry. I asked her what she wanted, and she told me I was a cruel and ungrateful child. I started to cry, and she disappeared.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t a dream?” Nevyn said. “It certainly sounds like one.”
“I could feel the wool blankets under my hands. And the tears were wet.”
“Ah. Well, then, you actually did see her. It’s interesting that she knows you’re Merodda’s daughter. Most spirits have no understanding of kin and clan, but it seems to matter to her.” Nevyn paused, considering the idea that had just come to him. “Tell me, how are you feeling? I’ve not heard you cough in a good long while.”
“I’m much stronger, my lord.”
“Do you think you’re well enough for a bit of excitement? Hunting this spirit, say.”
Lilli’s eyes went as wide as a doe’s when she’s ringed by dogs. “I could be bait?”
“Only if you’re willing.”
“Of course.”
“Of course?” Nevyn paused for a smile.
“Well, I’m frightened, but I want to know what she is. It’s fascinating, a sort of ghastly grim fascination, but one nonetheless.”
“Very well, then. Let me tell you what to do.”
Merodda’s old chambers still stood empty. In the reception room one of the hides had slipped from its window, and rain puddled under it on the floor. The smell of mildew hung so heavy that Nevyn hurried Lilli into what had once been the bedchamber.
“Lots of dust in here,” he said. “Good. Now, you stand out of the way whilst I draw our trap.”
With the little broom of