The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [97]
The new prince turned two months old on a particularly lovely day. The nursemaids brought both children into the garden, Marro to sleep in his basket, Casso to play at his mother’s feet, and Bellyra found that she could smile at them now and again. She caught her serving women watching her, though, and snarled.
“I wish you wouldn’t stare at me like that!”
“My apologies, Your Highness,” Degwa said.
“Lyrra, we’re just concerned.” Elyssa shot back. “Can you blame us?”
“I can’t, truly, but—”
“I have a surprise for you.” Elyssa spoke firmly, cutting her off. “I was looking for more thread in one of the chests, and I saw this.” She leaned down to rummage in her work basket, then brought out a book, or more precisely, a codex. “I didn’t know what it might be, so I showed it to the scribe, and he told me it was somewhat that you’d treasured, back when you were a lass.”
With her first laugh in two months Bellyra took it, a history of Dun Cerrmor started long ago by some anonymous scribe. In the blank pages at the back, however, she had added to the story with precise descriptions of the dun as she’d known it as a child.
“If we might be so bold,” Degwa said, “could we ask Her Highness to read to us? It would make the time pass so pleasantly.”
“And truly,” Elyssa chimed in, “it’s such a marvel to know a woman who can read.”
“Oh huh!” Bellyra wrinkled her nose at them. “You rehearsed that, didn’t you? But you know, I think I’d like to. Here’s a bit about King Glyn’s sorcerer that I used to love when I was a child. His name was Nevyn, too, and our Nevyn is his grandson.”
“Indeed?” Degwa’s eyes grew wide. “I never knew that! But the first Nevyn—that’s the man who helped my clan keep its name.”
“Truly? Well, then, we simply have to read about him.”
Bellyra cleared her throat and began. Her small audience listened with a flattering attention, caught by the magic that allowed her to turn little marks on parchment into words that they could understand. And perhaps that book did have dweomer of a sort. As she read, she felt her black mood lightening; later that evening, after all her servants and serving women had gone to bed, she sat in the women’s hall and read the passages she’d written as a girl until the flickering candlelight made her eyes water. When at last she went to bed, she lay awake for a while, considering entries she might make to continue her description of the buildings and rooms. She fell asleep happy.
In the morning the pleasant mood stayed with her so long as she kept her mind on her book. As soon as the daily life of the dun intruded, she felt the black sadness take her over again, but the book had one last dweomer to offer. Late in the afternoon, while she read to her women, Nevyn himself arrived. She looked up from the book to see him striding through the garden with pages scurrying ahead of him and the lady Lillorigga trotting after, unable to keep up with the old man. Bellyra shut the book with a snap.
“I swear it, we’ve conjured him up!” Bellyra said, pointing. “Look!”
Degwa and Elyssa turned on the bench and burst out laughing.
“So it seems, Your Highness,” Elyssa said.
“And our little Boarswoman too,” Degwa murmured. “How very nice.”
“Oh Decci, stop it!” Elyssa snapped. “She belongs to the Rams of Hendyr now.”
“Once a person has been raised in an unwholesome manner,” Degwa said, “it’s very hard for them to change their ways.”
“Hush!” Bellyra said. “Or she’ll hear you!”
Degwa arranged a smile and held her tongue. In a flurry of greetings and laughter, Nevyn and Lilli joined them. Lilli sank down onto the bench next to Elyssa to catch her breath, but as always Nevyn seemed full of boundless energy.
“And what brings you here, Nevyn?” Bellyra said.
“A great many small errands,” Nevyn said.
“Ah, I see. And how long will you stay?”
“Not too long, alas. Your husband has need of me back in the Holy City.”
“It’s too bad he has no need of me.”
The words had slipped out unbidden. Bellyra laid a hand over her mouth as if