The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [28]
“And where would you have seen the lad before?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t have been surprised, would I now?”
Midda sighed with a shake of her head, then resumed the unpacking. From a sack she took out two old, threadbare blankets, another grudged gift. When she spread them over the bed, the gnome vanished only to reappear in Branna’s lap. Neb sees the Wildfolk, too, Branna thought. I could see his eyes move, following them.
“I’m off to get some firewood and the like,” Midda announced. “It might be chilly tonight.”
“Well and good, then. Has that chamberlain given you a decent place to sleep?”
“He has. A nice little space set off by partitions, private like, and only one other woman to share it with, and us with a mattress apiece. Much better than I had—” She paused to gesture at the room. “Than we had at your father’s dun.”
With one last snort of remembered disgust, Midda bustled out of the room. The gnome reached up a timid little paw and touched Branna’s cheek.
“It is nicer,” Branna said. “And I certainly can’t be any more miserable than I was before. Now, if only I really had dweomer, I’d turn my stepmother into a frog, and I’d not turn her back unless she begged me.”
The gnome grinned and nodded his head in agreement.
“If only I really had dweomer,” Branna went on. “I say that too much, don’t I? But they were such lovely tales I used to tell us. I suppose I should stop. I’m grown now and marriageable and all the rest of it.”
The thought of abandoning her fantasies saddened her, because she’d told herself those tales for as long as she could remember. They had started as dreams, beautifully vivid dreams, so coherent and detailed that at times she wondered if they were actually memories.
From those wonderings she had developed a detailed fantasy about another Then and another When, as she called it—another life somewhere that she and her gnome had lived together, when she’d been a mighty sorcerer who had traveled all over Deverry and far away, too, off to Bardek and beyond. Her favorite tale concerned a magical island far across the Southern Sea, where elven sorcerers lived and studied books filled with mighty spells. The gnome had always listened, nodding his head when he agreed with some detail, or frowning when he felt she’d got something wrong.
“Neb,” she said aloud. “There was a man with a name like that in the tales, do you remember? But he was old. He can’t be the same person.”
The gnome scowled and wagged a long warty finger at her.
“What? You can’t mean he is the same person.”
The gnome nodded.
“Oh, here, that’s silly. And impossible.”
The gnome flung both hands into the air and disappeared. Branna was about to try calling him back when someone knocked on the door. Lady Galla opened it and hurried in, with a page carrying a folded coverlet right behind her. Branna scrambled down from the windowsill and curtsied.
“There you are, dear,” Galla said. “Do you like the chamber? I found somewhat to brighten it up a bit. Now that you’re here, we’ll have to start on some bed curtains for you. We should be able to get them done before the winter.”
“Thank you so much,” Branna said. “I really really appreciate all this, Aunt Galla.”
“You’re most welcome, dear.” Galla took the coverlet from the page. “You may go, Coryn.”
The page skipped off down the hall. Together, the two women spread out the coverlet, linen embroidered with red-and-blue spiral roundels and thick bands of yellow interlace.
“It’s awfully pretty,” Branna said.
“And cheerful. Having somewhat cheerful’s important just now, I should think.” Galla reached out and patted her hand. “And don’t you worry, we’ll see about finding you a proper husband.”
“Tell me somewhat. Would it be horribly wrong of a lass like me to marry some common-born man, one who has some standing, I mean, like somebody who’s serving a powerful lord?”
“Not at all, truly, just so long as he could provide for you properly.”
“Oh, I’m used to doing without.”
Galla winced and glanced away. “Your dear stepmother,