The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [59]
She’s gone mad! Dallandra thought to herself. But she’s the more dangerous for it, no doubt.
“Listen to me, please!” Dallandra said aloud. “If you keep using dweomer this way, it’ll cause you great harm. You don’t know how to use the power Shaetano gives you. He’s leading you to your ruin.”
“I’ll not hear this no more, elven witch.”
Abruptly Raena turned and ran, dodging round the boulder and heading toward the forest. Although Dalla took out after her, panic lent her quarry speed. Raena took one last step, then disappeared as suddenly as if she’d run through an invisible door and slammed it behind her.
“Ah ye gods!” Dallandra said. “Well, at least I tried to warn her. On her own head be it!”
She stepped up onto the boulder and transformed herself back to the linnet. With a mournful cry she leapt into the air and flew off, heading for Dun Cengarn and Rhodry.
For three days and on into a fourth Raena stayed missing. With some of the militiamen Verrarc hunted for her in the farmlands surrounding Cerr Cawnen; but no one had seen her, and they found no tracks. He searched all through the city as well; again, he discovered no trace. At night he would lie awake, alone in their bed, and curse her for shaming him so. Although no one said a mean thing to his face, he knew perfectly well that behind his back the gossip was flying like the feathers when a farmer slaughters chickens.
Finally, on the fourth afternoon Verrarc went into the ruins of the temple and tried to invoke Lord Havoc; no one answered or came. He stood in the dark room and wept with both hands over his face, as if he could shove his sobs back into his throat. The sun was setting by the time he left the temple ruins. He stood for a moment at the peak of Citadel and watched the night, gathering storm clouds to cover the stars. If it snowed, and Raena were out somewhere in the countryside—he couldn’t finish the thought. Far below the lake steamed around its rocks. For a moment he considered throwing himself to his death; then he shook the evil thought away and headed downhill to his compound.
When he came in, Korla was laying more tinder on the fire in the hearth. She looked up and made a grunting sound that did for a welcome, then went back to her work. Verrarc hung his cloak up near the fire to dry, then walked into his bedchamber to take off his boots. Raena was lying naked on the bed, sprawled on her back. For a moment he could only stare gape-mouthed. With a little moan she raised her head, then fell back against the pillow.
“Ah ye gods!” Verrarc rushed over and sat down beside her. When he laid a hand along her cheek, he found it cold and a little damp. He could hear her breath wheezing and gurgling in her chest.
“Oh, my love!” He was stammering through tears. “What befell you? Where have you been?”
Raena opened her eyes and tried to speak, then fainted. Yelling for Korla, Verrarc went to the hearth and began laying a fire. The old woman came shuffling in, saw Raena, and screamed.
“Witchcraft!” Korla hissed. “How did she get in here?”
“I know not and I care not,” Verrarc snapped. “Bring me some fire from the other hearth! Then send Harl to town to fetch the herbwoman!”
All that day Gwira fussed over her patient. She made Raena breathe steam from simmering herbwater, made her drink decoctions of some green muck, mixed up still a third preparation to form into a poultice for her chest. Raena coughed and moaned, swore and spat up great lumps of greenish rheum, then lapsed into sleep whenever Gwira allowed her. While the herbwoman worked, Verrarc paced back and forth in the great room by the fire. He was remembering another visit of Gwira’s to this house, when his mother lay dying from her husband’s brutality. Gwira had seemed old as the moon then, too. Korla had taken him out of the house down to the lake to distract him, a little lad then—how old? He could not remember, and it didn’t matter. Korla he remembered as being still vigorous, a stout woman with grey hair and a ready smile.
“Councilman?” Gwira spoke from behind him.
Verrarc spun