The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [41]
“I can understand that. Still, you have your own strengths, and the older you grow, the more you’ll know them.”
“I suppose. You know, that reminds me, in an odd sort of way. I was talking with little Jahdo earlier, and he told me that Rhodry was going to teach him to read.”
“So I understand.”
“And well—” Carra hesitated for a long moment; then her words came in a rush. “Could I learn too? I know it’s above a woman’s station, but I do so much want to learn.”
“Above your—oh hogwash! Of course you may learn, if you’d like. I’ll speak to Rhodry for you.”
Carra turned to her and smiled, a bright steady joy like sunlight that was exactly the same smile she got when she saw her husband walk into the room. That Carra burned with a passion to learn how to read shocked Dallandra all over again, though as she thought about it she realized that anyone with a strong interest in history would no doubt wish to read about the past. Dallandra had labored so long and hard to get Elessi born into the physical world that in her mind Carra’s role as Elessi’s mother had absorbed the actual person that Carra was. What an awful thing to do to someone! Dallandra told herself. She made herself pay strict attention to the girl as she talked on.
“It’s just so wonderful,” Carra was saying, “to be able to think about things like books and letters now. Sometimes I dream about Alshandra still, and the Horsekin army at our gates. When I wake up, I have to tell myself that we’re safe at last.”
Dallandra started to make some pleasantry, but a dweomer-warning like a sudden blast of cold froze her lips, or so it seemed. She felt fear run down her back like the stroke of an icy hand. Carra turned to her in alarum, but fortunately the baby woke, stretching tiny arms, and began to cry. Dallandra murmured an excuse, got up, and left.
As she hurried up to her tower room, the dweomer-cold went with her, hugging her so tightly she found it hard to breathe. Twice on the staircase up it forced her to stop and rest. While she leaned against stone walls and gasped, she heard a strange rustle or murmur, so loudly that at first she thought it was sounding in the physical world. The sound, however, followed her into her own quarters, swelling to a roar and babble of voices.
Safe at last? Far from it, far far from it! Dallandra nearly fell onto the bed. She had just the presence of mind to grab the blankets and pull them over her before she sank into trance. It seemed to her that she was awake in the tower room, but she lay paralyzed in a light transformed into the silvery blue of the etheric plane. All around her swirled voices in a babble of languages; some words she could understand, others escaped her entirely. The voices seemed to come from a dozen speakers, some male, some female, others strangely ambiguous. Whatever they were trying to say rang with urgency; she could hear anger and terror, both, as they babbled on and on, louder and louder.
Suddenly the harsh shriek of a raven silenced the voices. The raven cried again, and it seemed its huge black shadow covered the room.
Abruptly Dallandra woke, lying in sweat-soaked clothing in an icy, dark room. She got up, staggered to the window, and leaned against the wall while she fumbled with the leather covering. Finally, she managed to pull up one corner. Cold wind and a flurry of snow slapped her in the face. Night lay over the dun, but how deep or early, she could not say. She let the hide fall again. Heat, she thought. I must get out of here, go where it’s warm.
On her table stood a pitcher of water. She cracked the ice on top and drank straight out of the spout. The water brought enough sensation back to her body to allow her to walk across the room and open the door, but the dark landing and stairwell beyond made her hesitate. She called upon the Wildfolk of Aethyr, who materialized to surround her with a silvery glow. In their safe light she went down and reached the great hall at last.
Apparently the evening meal had just been