The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [13]
“The coin we have, thanks to the high king’s bounty.” Galla thought for a moment. “Now, I think you might find what you need in Cengarn. His grace my husband has been talking about riding to the gwerbret there, and so if he does, you can go with him.”
“Splendid, my lady, and my thanks. But then there’s the matter of what I’m going to write upon. Fine parchments cost ever so much if you buy them, and I don’t know how to make my own. Even if I did, could you spare the hides? You can only get two good sheets from a calfskin, and then scraps like these.”
“Oh.” Galla paused, chewing on her lower lip. “Well, I’d not thought of that, but if you can find parchment for sale, I’m sure we can squeeze out the coin to buy some, at least for legal judgments and the like.”
“We can use wax-covered tablets for ordinary messages, if you have candle wax to spare. I can write with a stylus as well as a pen.”
“Now that I can give you, and a good knife, too, for cutting your pens.” Much relieved, Galla smiled at him. “I’ve got a very important letter to write, you see. My brother has a daughter by his first wife, who died years and years ago. So he remarried, and now he and his second wife have sons and daughters of their own. The wife—well. Let’s just say that she’s never cared for her stepdaughter. There’s only so much coin at my brother’s disposal, and she wants to spend it on her own lasses. The wife wants to, I mean, not little Branna. That’s my brother’s daughter, you see, Lady Branna, my niece. So I’m offering to take the lass in, and if we can’t find her a husband, then she can live here as my servingwoman.” Lady Galla paused for a small frown. “She’s rather an odd lass, you see, so suitors might be a bit hard to find. But she does splendid needlework, so I’ll be glad to have her. It’s truly a marvel, the way she can take a bit of charcoal and sketch out patterns. You’d swear she was seeing them on the cloth and just following along the lines, they’re so smooth and even. And—oh here, listen to me! A lad like you won’t be caring about needlework. You run along now and make those tablets. I’ll have Coryn bring you wax and knives and suchlike.”
“Very well, my lady, and my thanks. I’ll go hunt up some wood.”
Neb took Clae with him when he went out to the ward, which, with the dun so newly built, lacked much of the clutter and confusion of most strongholds. Behind the main broch tower stood the round, thatched kitchen hut, the well, and some storage sheds. Across an open space stood the smithy, some pigsties and chicken coops, and beyond them the dung heap. A third of the high outer wall supported the stables, built right into the stones, with the ground level for horses and an upper barracks for the warband and the servants.
“Neb?” Clae said. “We’ve found a good place, haven’t we?”
“We have.” Neb looked at him and found him smiling. “I think we’ll do well here.”
“Good. I want to train for a rider.”
“You what?”
“I want to learn swordcraft and join the tieryn’s warband.”
Neb stopped walking and put his hands on his hips. Clae looked up defiantly.
“Whatever for?” Neb said at last.
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“You know.” Clae shrugged and began scuffing at one of the cobbles with his bare toes. “Because they killed everyone.”
“Ah. Because the raiders destroyed our village?”
Clae nodded, staring at the ground. Ye gods! Neb thought. What would Mam say to this?
“Well, I can understand that,” Neb said. “I’ll think about it.”
“I’m going to do it.”
“Listen, I’m the head of our clan now, and you won’t do one wretched thing unless I say you may.”
Clae’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, ye gods!” Neb snapped. “Don’t cry! Here, it’s all up to the captain, anyway. The Falcon. What’s-his-name.”
“Gerran.” Clae wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “He’s too busy now. I’ll ask