The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [151]
“I doubt it very much, truly.” Nevyn sat down on the edge of his narrow cot. “I can see why you didn’t want to tell me.”
“I feel so shamed,” Lilli whispered. “I deserve a beating, no doubt, not just one blow.”
“Oh nonsense! Princess Bellyra’s never acted so harshly before, and the gods all know that Maryn’s given her plenty of reason to be. I wonder what could have possibly set her off like that? I—wait. What about our wretched tablet?”
“Oh.” Lilli’s eyes grew wide. “Could the curse have touched her somehow?”
“It’s but a guess, though it’s quite possible. Not that the dweomer spell forced her to turn on you. It doesn’t matter how powerful a dweomer you cast upon someone or some thing: you can never make them go against their own true nature. It’s possible that the curse will bring out the worst parts of people’s true natures.”
“I see. Do you think that Bellyra’s been angry with me from the beginning, but she didn’t let it out until the curse began working upon her?”
“Exactly. It takes dweomer to resist these things, and she has none.”
“Couldn’t you make another talisman that’s the opposite of this one? You know, it would make the good parts of everyone’s nature sing out and maybe drown out the bad.”
“By the gods! That’s a splendid idea.”
“But you won’t need a dead thing to make it work, will you?”
“Of course not. We’ll use a jewel of some sort instead, not a hard clear one, though.” Nevyn thought for a moment. “We’ll want a jewel with veins and depths for this job, an opal for instance, since it’s meant to operate upon the hidden parts of the soul. It would be a long job, maybe the work of years, but still, a job worth doing.”
“I’d hoped you could make it quickly. To counter the curse tablet, I mean.”
“I only wish.” Nevyn smiled at her. “Alas, that would take a dweomermaster with ten times my power—at least. But you’ve given me an idea. I’ve been afraid to destroy the tablet for fear the curse would redound upon our prince if I did, but to counter it might be another thing entirely. I might call down the Light perhaps and try to cleanse it somehow. It’s not clear in my mind yet, but I’ll meditate upon it. And then we’ll see what we shall see.”
It was some while before Maddyn saw the princess again. A page told him that she’d left off working on her book, but the boy couldn’t tell him why or when she might take it up again. Every morning after breakfast, the usual time she would have summoned him, he lingered at the foot of the staircase in the great hall, just on the off chance that she’d send him word of some sort. It never came, and neither did she.
Finally Maddyn cornered Elyssa when she appeared in the great hall to fetch bread. He knelt on one knee to block her path and caught the hem of her dress in his hands.
“What’s all this?” Elyssa said, laughing. “I’ve no bounty to dispense, bard, or boons to grant.”
“Oh, but you do,” Maddyn said. “News of Her Highness. Is she ill or suchlike?”
“Not truly. A bit indisposed, I suppose one could call it.”
“I’ve been worried.” Maddyn found himself speaking with no power to stop himself. “When last I saw her, she seemed so unhappy. I keep thinking there’s somewhat wrong.”
“Oh.” Elyssa glanced around at the crowded hall, then lowered her voice. “You truly are devoted to her, aren’t you?”
Maddyn looked away. “I suppose I am.”
“Do get up, will you?”
He stood, brushing the straw from the knees of his brigga, while she watched him with eyes that told him nothing of her thoughts.
“Can you tell me what’s amiss?” he said at last.
“Why not?” Elyssa smiled in a twisted sort of way. “She’s had two babies in four years, and both of them were big. And now, oh ye gods! she’s with child again, and little Prince Marro is what? Barely four turnings of the moon old. It sucks the life out of a woman. She’s not a mare or a prize cow, you know, no matter what our prince thinks.”
Maddyn blushed and looked away.
“A bard without words,” Elyssa said. “There’s a rarity. Or are you angry that I’ve spoken ill of the prince?”
“Not in the least.