The Riddle - Alison Croggon [54]
“The Hull was well concealed,” Cadvan said. “It was hidden by some ensorcellment.”
Elenxi, who was tying off the bandage on Cadvan’s wound, snorted. “Even so,” he said, “it was an elementary ambush. What disturbs me more is that it had a blackstone.”
“What’s a blackstone?” Maerad asked curiously.
“They are very rare,” said Cadvan. “But, as you saw, they are very difficult to fight. They will absorb all the energy from a strike and then direct it back at the assailant. A blackstone is made from a mineral mined in the south, called albarac; it is worth much more than gold, because it is so difficult to find, and even more difficult to work. Most often it’s used in shields, as very thin plating, because it will deflect and absorb attack. You need a lot of albarac to make a blackstone.”
“And was it using the blackstone to attack me?” Maerad thought of the terrible pains that had afflicted her. “You said something about it having my pattern — what did you mean?”
“That is more difficult to explain.” Cadvan drew his sword and began to examine the blade as he spoke; it bore some new notches, and he frowned. “Well, as you know, every Bard’s magery has an individual flavor, a signature. This is sometimes called a pattern. If another Bard can trace that pattern, it is almost like knowing your Truename; fortunately for all of us, it is very difficult, nay, almost impossible to do. But if you have a blackstone, and can control it — which is not easy to do either — it is possible to see a Bard’s pattern from a strike.”
“I don’t quite understand,” said Maerad, frowning.
“I am concerned that the Hull had a blackstone at all,” said Elenxi. “And it claimed to be of Norloch. Perhaps there is a secret store of them there, being handed out to Hulls. We have to hope that the Dark is not making them. Did you find the stone?”
“We didn’t look,” said Maerad. “Perhaps it was changed with the Hull.”
“Maybe, but we should look anyway,” said Elenxi.
Cadvan sheathed his sword. “The blackstone explains why a single Hull would attack three Bards such as us.”
“If we find it, it will be a great prize,” said Elenxi.
The Bards returned to the thicket of trees and searched the ground painstakingly. It wasn’t long before Maerad let out a cry and lifted a strange object in her hands, waving to the others. They came over to her, and examined it curiously.
The blackstone was large enough to fill her palm. It was ringed with a band of silver, wrought in an intricate design of flames wreathing around each other, and was attached to a silver chain. The stone itself was blank of all carving, and very strange; looking at it was not like looking at an object at all, but rather like looking at a hole, an absence of light. It was curious to touch; Maerad felt as if her fingers slipped over it, unable quite to register whether it was cool or hot, rough or smooth. Cadvan took it and looked at it closely, and let out his breath in relief.
“Well, it is certainly a blackstone of Norloch, and not fashioned by the Dark,” he said. “No stone of the Dark would use the White Flame. But why would a Hull have such a thing?”
“My guess,” said Elenxi grimly, “is that Enkir strongly suspects that you are in Thorold. And, if so, any fool would know that you had a good chance of traveling this way, if you wished to leave; you could not leave Busk unwitnessed.”
Maerad shivered; it meant pursuit was at their very heels.
“I think you ought to keep this, Maerad,” said Cadvan unexpectedly, handing the blackstone back to her. “It could be of use, I think. And it was won in fair fight. I’ll teach you how to use it.”
Maerad smiled and put the blackstone in her pack. Cadvan squinted up at the sky; the sun was now well past its zenith. “It’s time we moved on, if we wish