The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [29]
“I must congratulate you, Regent,” Bevyan said at last. “I hear you’ve made a good marriage for young Braemys.”
Burcan’s expression changed; he kept smiling, but his entire face went tight from the effort of doing so.
“Lilli will make him a good wife,” Burcan said, and his voice was oddly tight as well. “And she brings a nice parcel of land with her.”
“So she does. My congratulations to the lad.”
As Bevyan made their way through the tables to her own seat, she glanced back to find Burcan staring after her, his face set and unreadable. All at once she realized that letting him see her suspicions would be dangerous.
After the meal, there in the great hall before the assembled lords and the king himself Tibryn announced the betrothal of his niece to his nephew. Everyone cheered and called out their congratulations while Lilli smiled and blushed—everyone but the queen, that is, who pouted. Bevyan could only hope that Lilli could keep her happiness safe from jealousy as well as death, that little bit of happiness allowed to a woman in the midst of the endless wars.
As always, the black ink seemed to rise out of the basin in a vast wave, catching her, pulling her under. This time the wave seemed so real that Lilli gagged and coughed, sure that she would drown. She could feel her mother’s hand pressing on her neck and pushing her down into trance. All at once she floated in blackness, and the choking vanished.
“Tell us what you see.” The words swam after her, imploring. “What do you see, Lilli?”
At first, nothing—then in the blackness the familiar circle of light appeared. Lilli floated through and found herself back in the dun, back in her mother’s chambers, in fact, but a pale sunlight poured in through the open windows.
“Who’s there, Lilli?” The voice sounded so strange, all syrupy and drawn out, that she could not tell if Brour or Merodda spoke. “Who do you see?”
“No one. But there are things.”
A wooden chest stood open; dresses lay scattered on the floor; an empty silver flagon lay in the ashes on the hearth. In one corner sat a little doll, made of cloth scraps stuffed with hay. Lilli recognized it as something that had belonged to her years ago; Sarra had made it for her, and Bevyan had embroidered the little face. With a laugh she ran to it and picked it up, hugged it to her chest as she used to do, back in Hendyr.
“Can you leave the room?” The voice poured into her ears.
“There’s no door to be seen.”
“Look into the chest.”
Still holding her doll, Lilli skipped across the chamber. She leaned over the chest and nearly screamed. Only her fear of her mother’s slap kept her from screaming. Yet she must have made some sound, because the voice sounded urgent.
“What is it?”
“Brour’s head, just his head, and the neck’s all black with old blood.”
“Come back!” Her mother’s voice said, and this time it was clearly her mother’s. “Come back now. Go through the window.”
Lilli found herself floating up and out, as light as a dandelion seed, up up into the blue sky and through the sky to the candle flame. She found herself on her knees by the table in her mother’s chamber. Merodda knelt in front of her, her waxy face sweaty-pale in the dancing candlelight.
“We’ve done enough for one night,” Merodda said. “You need to rest.”
“Just so,” Brour said. “Just so.”
With Merodda’s help Lilli got to her feet. In a moment her head cleared enough for her to stand without help.
“Shall I go with you to your chamber?” Brour said. “Will you get there safely?”
“I will, truly.” Lilli couldn’t bear to look at him, not with the vision of his severed head still hanging behind her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
Lilli hurried across the chamber and out, but as she closed the door she paused briefly and glanced back to see Brour and Merodda standing facing each other like a pair of swordsmen. She shut the door quietly and for a moment leaned against it to gather her strength. All at once she realized