The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [163]
“It’ll come to you, lass,” Emla said. “It’ll come. Well, my thanks, Councilman. I’ll be telling Cronin what you did say here.”
Rather than summoning Korla, Verrarc walked them to the door himself, then on an impulse, it seemed, grabbed his cloak from its peg.
“I’ll walk you down to the shore,” he said. “If I may?”
“Of course.” Emla lifted a surprised eyebrow. “Our pleasure, I’m sure.”
They walked in silence down the first turnings of the path, but just past the public granary, where the path widened, Verrarc paused.
“I do have a favor to ask,” he said. “If you could find it in your heart to forgive Raena, always would I be grateful to you. She be lonely, so lonely at times it aches my heart to see. Truly, our adultery was my fault as much, nay more than hers, and yet never am I scorned and shamed by the townsfolk.”
Emla sighed, glancing Niffa’s way, then back to Verrarc.
“Unjust it be, truly,” Emla said, “but a woman’s honor does break twice as fast as a man’s and does take twice the time to mend. Councilman, I hope that I speak within my bounds, but if you truly want the folk to forget and forgive, marry the poor woman, all right and proper, like. Some coins and suchlike scattered among the poor would not go amiss, either, at your wedding feast.”
Verrarc nodded, staring down at the path.
“I want to,” he said at last. “The Spirit Talker? She does refuse to bless us. I’ve asked her many a time now.”
Emla made a snorting sound.
“Werda be a holy woman and much favored by the gods,” Emla said. “I do think she forgets from time to time what life does give to the rest of us. If it would please you, Councilman, I’ll have a word with her.”
“Would you?” He looked up with a grin and seemed, at that moment, no older than Demet and as much in love. “Gratitude would fill my heart.”
“Then I’ll speak with her and soon. Now, do come along, Niffa. We’d best get home before the night’s cold settles down. Councilman, no need to walk with us the more.”
“If you’re sure? Very well, then, and my thanks, my humble thanks!”
With a cheerful wave Verrarc started back uphill. Emla waited until he was out of earshot.
“Now listen, Niffa,” she said. “Well do I understand why you’d not want some close friendship, like, with a slut like that Raena. But for the trading, it would be a grand thing to humor her. For the family, like. Do you see that?”
“I do.” Niffa felt a twist of disgust, deep in her stomach. “But it be not her ways with men that gripe my soul. There be some other feeling she does give me, like stepping on a dead animal out in a field.”
“Oh, now here! Your way of speaking, it be a strong one, baint? Let’s get back home. We’ll discuss all this over dinner.”
After he left Niffa and Emla, Verrarc took the shortcut between the boulder and the militia armory despite the frost lying heavy in the shadows. He’d taken it so many times since boyhood that he knew exactly where to put his feet. About halfway up he realized that someone was standing by the path and leaning against the trunk of an ancient pine.
“Councilman Verrarc?” the fellow stepped forward. “A word with you, if I may.”
“Of course. I do fear me I’ve forgotten your name.”
Tall and slender, wrapped in a blue cloak, the fellow looked human enough until Verrarc noticed his ears were long and pointed as well. His hair was an impossibly bright yellow and his eyes, a lurid dye-pot blue. He smiled in a lazy sort of way.
“You never knew my name to forget it, actually, but I’m Lord Havoc’s brother.”
Verrarc felt a chill run down his spine. Here in the shadows the fellow did indeed seem oddly weightless, as if he weren’t truly standing on the ground, and around the edges his flesh seemed translucent, as if he were made of murky water, not meat and bone.
“You may call me Lord Harmony,” he went on. “I’ve come with a warning for you.”
“Indeed?” Verrarc found his voice at last. “Come from where, good sir?”
“My own fair country,