The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [69]
“I think me it’s best we be honest with each other,” he said. “About dweomer.”
Lilli laid a hand at her throat and turned to look out. Directly across, sunny towers rose at the far side of the ward. A few mare’s-tail clouds hung against the sky, and seabirds wheeled and called.
“I think me that you were born with a great talent for dweomer,” Nevyn said. “And then someone taught you a few tricks about using it. I’ve always felt that there must be evil magic in Dun Deverry, but truly, there’s none of that about you.”
“I should hope not, my lord. Never did I want to work anyone harm.”
“I can see that. When you were scrying—you must remember the night our paths crossed—when you were scrying, was someone else guiding you? Come now, lass, do tell me. It’s important for your welfare, you know. My guess is that someone was riding your will like a horse. If so, it’s dangerous and could have done you harm.”
“That’s what he—what I was told.”
“He?” Nevyn sounded amused. “Who’s he? Your teacher? Was he the one controlling you?”
Lilli considered lies, but she was well and truly trapped.
“He wasn’t,” she said. “My mother did that.”
“Your mother? By the gods! Lady Merodda?”
“She is that, truly.”
“From what little I know of her, it seems like she’s the sort of person who would exploit another’s gifts that way. In fact, I’ve long suspected her of being the one who made the horrible thing,” he pointed at the casket, “hidden under those roses.”
“It could well be, my lord. She bragged to me once that the Usurper could never win, because mighty dweomers were working against him.”
“The Usurper? But, of course, that’s what you all would have called him. Do you think your mother wound the spell herself?”
“I don’t. She told me that she’d found a man who could lay snares and traps, ones that the Usurper could never get free of.”
“I see. But she must know some magicks of her own.”
“She knows a lot of dweomer. She learned it from someone who came to her long before I was born. She talked of him now and again, and I think, my lord, that he was your evil man, from what the servants told me. They hated him, blood and bone, but I didn’t know him at all. I was in fosterage, and he was my mother’s retainer. Wait—I wonder if he were the one who laid those traps and snares?”
“It’s a sound enough wager, I’d say. What happened to this man?”
“My uncle slew him before I got back from Bevyan’s. It was in the Boar’s hall one evening, and he was drunk, my mother said—her sorcerer, not Uncle Burcan—and he insulted my mother’s honor somehow. So Burcan drew and killed him on the spot.”
Nevyn swore like one of the riders.
“My apologies,” he said. “I forgot myself.”
“You look so upset, my lord. I should think you’d be glad he’s dead.”
“Indeed? I have no idea of how to unwind that spell.” Nevyn gestured at the casket. “I’d always hoped to catch the man who worked it and force him, one way or another, to tell me how. He won’t be telling me anything now, will he?”
“Oh. Well, truly.”
“What puzzles me is the way you could sense the evil. I supervised the sealing of that casket. When we were done, I couldn’t sense dweomer upon it, not the slightest trace. And yet you touch it, just lay a finger upon it, and immediately you know there’s somewhat wrong.”
“I don’t know how I did it, though. I’d tell you if I did.”
“Oh, I believe you. Well, if your mother has somewhat to do with working the spell, maybe we can worm it out of her—if we ever see her again.” For a long moment Nevyn thought something through. “Well, there’s naught I can do about that now,” he said at last. “So, then—later your mother found herself another man who knew secret things?”
Here was the crux. Lilli refused to betray Brour, who’d been so good to her in his way. Yet, as she thought of Brour, she felt an omen growing in her throat, as if she’d swallowed something so hot that she must spit it out or choke to death.
“He’s dead, anyway,” she said aloud. “Brour. The one who taught me.” She felt tears gather and spill.