The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [43]
Although his small lecture was so difficult to understand that Jill felt like a half-wit (as the organizing faculties go, Salamander’s were far from being the best in Annwn), everything he said resonated in her soul, with a hint more than a promise that here was a key to open a treasure chest.
“But I’ll tell you what, my robin of sweet song, you can try a new exercise if you’d like. Instead of using the scroll, make up your own image and try to realize it clearly in your mind. I don’t mean draw it or suchlike—we don’t have any ink, anyway—just decide on some simple thing and try to see it, like an inn you once stayed in, or your horse Sunrise, he who now eats the king’s bountiful oats—somewhat like that.”
“Well and good, then, I will. As long as it’s all right to jump around like this.”
“Oh, by the gods! This ’prentice-work isn’t truly even dweomer. You’re just learning some useful tools. I can’t imagine that the least harm could come of it.”
On his final night in Wylinth, Pommaeo and Alaena quarreled. Since he was waiting on table, Rhodry heard all of it; they seemed as indifferent to his presence as they were to that of the furniture. As soon as he’d laid out the meal and poured the wine, he retreated to the kitchen, where he found Disna and Vinsima listening at the door to the distant sound of lifted voices.
“It looks good,” Rhodry blurted out. “She’s refusing to give him a promise of any kind whatsoever, and he’s accusing her of having other suitors. Does she?”
“Only one and he’s seventy-odd years old,” Disna said. “So it looks very good indeed.”
“I’m not breathing easy yet,” Vinsima said. “What if they make things up with lots of kisses? Well, the dessert needs serving, boy, so you’ve got a good excuse to go back in.”
When Rhodry brought in the gilded plate of small sugared cakes, they were the only sweet thing in the room. Straight and stiff on their cushions, Alaena and Pommaeo glared at each other from opposite sides of the small table.
“Take those cakes away!” Alaena snapped.
“Yes, mistress.”
“They happen to be my favorite kind,” Pommaeo said with ice in his voice. “Bring them here.”
Rhodry hesitated.
“I said go!”
“Yes, mistress.”
He hurried out just as Alaena was informing her guest that he had no business giving any orders at all to one of her slaves. Some half an hour later the doorkeeper came rushing into the kitchen to announce that Pommaeo had left in a violent temper. Yet first thing in the morning Miko appeared with a long letter from his master, one that was full of sweet apologies, or so Disna said, because the mistress had read it aloud while her hair was being combed. Much to Disna’s disgust, Alaena had written a conciliatory note in return.
“And now I’m to hurry to his beastly inn and deliver it before he leaves. Oh well, at least he’ll be gone all winter. He’s not the type to travel in the rain.”
“Our mistress can read and write?” Rhodry was honestly amazed.
“Of course she can.” Disna wrinkled her nose at him. “That barbarian kingdom of yours must have been awfully primitive, that’s all I can say. You’re surprised by the strangest things.”
“Well, so I am. I hope you don’t think too badly of me.”
Disna merely gave him a slow smile, hinting of many answers, then hurried off on her errand.
That afternoon Alaena summoned Rhodry to her side. Dressed in a simple white tunic, she was sitting cross-legged on a cushion at the low table and frowning at her fortune-telling tiles when he came in. A pair of warty brown gnomes materialized at his entrance and grinned