The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [168]
“Nevyn, you think there’s hope, don’t you? I can hear it in your voice.”
“Well, I do, but let’s pray to every god that I’m not wrong. Baruma must have been a fumbling apprentice at this hideous line of work. Now, it stands to reason that, when Rhodry killed the man who’d ensorceled him, he’d free a certain amount of energy and heal a small amount of damage, but he never should have recovered any memories at all while Baruma was still alive.”
“Baruma was no fool or amateur.” Jill’s voice went cold and flat. “Gwin made that clear. He was known for breaking people down. That’s probably why the Old One sent him.”
“No doubt. I’m sorry you have to think about these terrible things, child.”
“Why? If I don’t face them now, I’ll be thinking about them every day I’m married to him.”
“Just so, and my apologies. But I don’t—oh, of course! Ye gods, I should have seen this before! I think we can assume that Baruma never knew that Rhodry’s half elven.”
“That would make a difference?”
“A very great difference indeed. But I’m not promising anything. For all I know, I still won’t be able to heal him. But why don’t you just hunt up His Grace and tell him I want to see him? It’s time we tried to clean up this wretched mess.”
It was some minutes before Rhodry came in, and Nevyn knew that something was wrong immediately, just from the arrogant set to his shoulders and the grim look about his mouth. It was the first time that Nevyn quite simply had had the leisure to realize that Rhodry neither remembered nor trusted him. He felt as hurt as a father with an ingrate son, even though rationally he knew that Baruma’s ensorcelments were to blame.
“Rhodry, I can help you if you let me.”
“So Jill said. Why wouldn’t I let you?”
“I don’t know. Why, indeed?”
“No reason at all.”
“Indeed?”
Rhodry shrugged and paced over to the window. In the strong sunlight he looked impossibly weary, as if he’d aged ten years instead of one since he’d left Deverry, and dark circles shadowed his eyes.
“I first met you when you were about eight years old,” Nevyn said. “I doubt if you remember. And then once when you were about sixteen, you were very ill of a fever, and I cured you—just with herbcraft, though, not dweomer.”
“I don’t remember that either.”
“Of course not. All I’m saying is this, that if you did remember, you’d trust me more.”
“Who says I don’t trust you now?”
Nevyn merely looked at him. In a moment Rhodry turned from the window, strode to the door, hesitated, then turned back and leaned against it.
“Jill’s going to many me.”
“Of course, she is. What’s that got to do with anything?”
He shrugged again and looked down at the floor.
“It’s the dweomer you’re jealous of, you young dolt! Not me or Salamander either!”
When Rhodry blushed scarlet, for a moment Nevyn thought he was going to turn and bolt, but he looked up instead and even managed to force out a crooked smile.
“Well, maybe so.” For one last moment Rhodry hesitated on the edge of leaving; then he let out his breath in a sharp sigh. “Can you heal me, Nevyn?”
“I can’t, but I can help you heal yourself. I’ve been thinking, lad, about Baruma’s botched job. His ensorcelment’s unwinding itself, and with time, who knows? It might unwind all the way and disappear.”
“I don’t have a cursed lot of time, not if I’m going to rule in Aberwyn.”
“Just so. And even if his magic was flawed, Baruma left you scarred, sure enough. What did he do to you?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t want to remember.”
“I can’t!” Rhodry looked up in a flare of rage.
“Indeed? Then you’ll never reclaim the rest of your life. Baruma planted a hedge of thorns in your mind. You’ve got to break through it and trample it down.”
“I can’t, I tell you!”
“You’re afraid of remembering all that pain. I don’t blame you, mind. I’d be afraid myself.”
The rage in his eyes turned murderous.
“It’s the honor of the thing, Rhodry lad. Are you going to let him win this battle?”
“I’d rather die.”
“Ah. I thought so.” Nevyn held out his hand. “Come sit down, lad. I’ll be here with you every step