The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [88]
“I’ll wait on the stairs,” she called out.
In but a few moments Midda joined her in the cooler air outside. The maid handed over a pillow-sized sack, carefully packed to avoid tangling the fibers all over again.
“Ah, my poor lady!” Midda said. “I hate seeing you like this, having to spin like one of the servants.”
“Oh, come now! It’s not that bad. Even Aunt Galla takes a hand with the spinning now and again.”
“Still, you deserve better.” Midda set her lips tight—a sure sign that she was thinking of Branna’s stepmother.
“Actually, Midda,” Branna said, “I think I do, too. I’m just not sure what that may be. And speaking of better things, why aren’t you all working outside, where it’s cooler?”
“Because it keeps threatening rain. It’s a fair job to haul everything out just to haul it back again.”
“Oh, of course. I should have thought of that.”
As she went back to the broch, Branna kept watch for Gerran, but since the men were planning their tourney, she managed to avoid him for the rest of the day. She did see Neb, however, as she was carrying a tin candle lantern up to her chamber after dinner. She’d just gained the second floor when Neb came down from his chamber on the floor above.
“We meet again, my lady,” Neb said.
The words were utterly simple and ordinary, yet Branna felt as cold as if she were standing in a winter doorway. Neb took a step back, began to speak, then merely stared at her. All around them Wildfolk materialized, solemn gnomes clustering upon the floor, sylphs flickering in the dappled light from the lantern.
“There’s somewhat we need to talk about.” Branna pointed at the Wildfolk with her free hand.
“There is, truly. I don’t know why we haven’t.”
“I was frightened. Were you?”
“Somewhat. I don’t suppose it would be seemly for me to come to your chamber.”
“It certainly wouldn’t! We could go up to the roof.”
Like most Deverry duns, the main tower had a flat roof, reachable from the top floor. Neb went up the ladder and through the trapdoor first. Branna handed him the candle lantern, then followed, scrambling up to find herself in the midst of pyramids of heavy stones, stored there in case of attack.
“Oh!” she said. “The air’s so lovely and cool!”
After the heat of the day the night breeze felt like a caress. In the clear air the stars hung close and thick, as if the sky were a pierced lantern, and the stars’ light shining through from the home of the gods. They picked their way through the heaps of stones to the edge of the roof, guarded by a waist-high crenellated wall. In its shelter Branna found a wooden chest, wrapped in oiled leather and no doubt containing bundles of arrows. She perched upon it, and Neb sat down on the roof facing her.
“Here,” Neb said, “you’d best blow that candle out. Someone might think the broch’s on fire or suchlike.”
Branna opened the lantern’s little door, blew out the candle, then put the lantern down beside her feet. Gnomes materialized to join them, and sylphs, glowing like moonlight, gathered in the air and gave them enough light to see each other. Branna’s gray gnome climbed into her lap, squirmed like a child, then leaned against her whilst it sucked one of its bony fingers.
“Very well,” Neb said. “We both see the Wildfolk, even though we’ve always been told that they don’t exist. It must mean somewhat, somewhat beyond our seeing of them, that is. Do you think so, too?”
“I do,” Branna said. “I keep feeling like there’s a secret I know, or I should know, but I’ve forgotten it.”
“I keep hearing riddles in my dreams, and they always seem to have you for an answer.”
Once again Branna felt the peculiar cold, sheeting down her back. She shuddered with a toss of her head.
“Have you ever dreamed about me?” Neb leaned forward.
“Well, not precisely.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Oh, well, you see.” Branna let her voice trail away. “It’ll sound so foolish.”
“Naught that you’d say could ever sound foolish to me.”
He sounded, he looked so urgently sincere that for a moment Branna couldn’t speak. Her heart was pounding, and she felt her face burning with