The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [17]
The silver glare filled the corners of the chamber with night-dark shadows, and as Raena’s swaying body blocked the light, her own shadow swayed and flickered on the far wall. Out of the corner of his eye Verrarc saw creatures standing in the dark, small things, half-human and half-beast, all blurred and faint as if they were but shadows themselves. One stepped far enough forward that he saw it clearly: the body of a wizened old woman, all bone and flabby skin, topped with the head of a drooling hound. It knelt beside Raena’s piled clothing and fingered the edge of her cloak while it watched Raena sway and sob. Involuntarily Verrarc shuddered in disgust. It looked up, saw him, and disappeared. Locked in her chant, Raena never noticed either of them.
Slowly, silently, Verrarc made his way out of the ruins. The air outside had never smelled so sweet, despite its biting cold, and he realized that he had felt close to vomiting, watching Raena plead with her spirits. For some while he stood among the tangled blocks of stone and looked down at the mists rising from the warm lake. Why was he waiting for her, he wondered. She would find her own way home easily enough. With a shrug he picked his way back to the path. By the time he got back to the house, he was tired enough to go back to bed, and this time he slept through till morning.
When he woke, Raena lay next to him, curled up on her side and breathing softly. Around the shutters a gleam of grey light announced dawn. In her sleep she smiled, a curve of her mouth that seemed to hint of secrets. He left their bed without waking her, and when some while later she joined him for breakfast, he said nothing about the night just past.
Dressed in green, she sat down across from him at the little table near the fire. For a while they ate porridge in silence.
“My love?” Raena said at last. “Is it that you must be about council business this afternoon?”
“It’s not, truly, unless some sort of messenger does come from the Chief Speaker.”
“That gladdens my heart.”
“Indeed? Why?”
She shrugged, ate a few more mouthfuls, then laid her spoon down in the bowl.
“I did wish to walk about the town, ’tis all,” Raena said, “and I fear to do it alone. The citizens, they do stare at me so, and I know they do whisper about me, too, behind my back.”
“Well, curse them all! One day soon, Rae, I do promise you, you’ll be my wife, and none will dare say one word.”
“But till then—”
“True spoken. It would do me good to get out of this house, too. We’ll have our stroll.”
In the winter air Loc Vaedd steamed. From Citadel, the town below and round its shore lay hidden in white mists. On the public plaza that graced the peak of the island, the cobbles lay slick and treacherous. Bundled in their winter cloaks, Verrarc and Raena walked slowly, side by side. In the brief daylight a number of other people were about, mostly servants of the wealthy and important souls who lived on Citadel. Some hurried past with buckets of water, drawn from the public well across from the Council House; others had been down in town, judging from the market baskets and bundles they carried.
About halfway through their slow circuit, however, they met Chief Speaker Admi, waddling along wrapped in a streaky scarlet cloak much like Verrarc’s own—a mark of their positions on the town council. Admi bobbed his head in Raena’s direction with a pleasant enough smile, but when he spoke, he spoke only to Verrarc.
“And a good morrow to you, Councilman,” Admi said. “There be luck upon me this morn, to meet up with you like this.”
“Indeed?” Verrarc said. “Here, if you wish to speak with me, you be most welcome at my house.”
“Ah well, my thanks, but truly, just a word with you will do. I did speak last night with some of the townsfolk, and they be sore afraid still, due to young Demet’s death. I did wonder if you might have some new understanding of the matter?”
“Not yet, truly.” Verrarc licked