The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [207]
“My apologies for hitting you,” Nevyn said. “It was the fastest way to bring you back. What were you scrying? Rhodry?”
“Just that. He must be in Dun Deverry. I saw wyvern blazons all over the furniture and suchlike.”
“Doubtless the King wants to look over this new vassal of his.”
“Oh, no doubt. I saw his wife. She’s naught but a little mouse sent to amuse the cats.”
“Here, listen to you.”
Jill shrugged and looked away. She could feel tears rising in her throat. With a sigh, Nevyn sat down next to her on the bench.
“Child, you have my sympathy.” His voice was oddly gentle. “I know you love your Rhodry.”
Jill nodded miserably in agreement.
“You had to continue your training,” Nevyn went on. “Don’t you see what’s happened? You’ve been using your dweomer, but all in bits and pieces, so you’ve got no control, no true understanding of what you’re doing. You sit here longing for Rhodry, you picture him in your mind, and all at once, you slip into a trance.”
“And truly, I didn’t even know it.” Jill was frightened as she thought things over. “What would have happened to me if I hadn’t come with you?”
“I don’t truly know, but there’s a good chance you’d have gone mad.”
“But you would have let me stay with Rhodry if I wanted.”
“I’d have been there to keep an eye on you, but no matter what the cost, you had to choose freely.”
The fire was burning low. Jill got up and laid on a couple of logs, watched them catch as the Wildfolk fell upon them in a shower of flame. The ghost of a memory haunted her mind, an abstract thing without image or word, of a time when she had not been allowed to choose, when she had been marked for the dweomer but some other thing had gotten in her way. She couldn’t remember what it was, another man, perhaps, that she’d loved as much as she loved Rhodry. All at once she knew that she had to remember, had to see her Wyrd clearly. She sat down in silence while the memory faded, then rose again, a restless spirit from the Otherlands of the soul.
The time when she should have chosen, the time when her Wyrd had been snatched from her. The time when the man sitting beside her should have brought her to her Wyrd.
“Galrion,” Jill said. “That was your name then.”
“It was.” Nevyn spoke very quietly.
Speaking the name brought a memory image with it, of Nevyn as a very young man.
“You’ve never died,” Jill said. “You’ve never died from that day to this.”
“And how could I have died and be here? When a man dies, isn’t that an end to him?”
His voice was humorous. When she realized that she understood the jest, she turned so cold that she got up to warm her hands at the fire.
“It was all a very long time ago,” Jill said.
“It was.”
“And how many lives have I lived since then?”
“So—you know the truth, do you?”
“I do.” Jill turned from the fire to face him. “How many lives has it been?”
“In time you’ll remember them all. Let’s just say that it was too many, and too many years all told.”
Nevyn stared into the fire, and she somehow knew that he, too, was remembering that other life. Jill felt as if she were standing on a mountain top after living in a deep