The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [114]
“Aha!” Salamander said. “I think me we’re reached the heart of the matter. So you thought you’d produce visions instead of dreams?”
Still scarlet, Neb nodded his agreement.
“Branna’s dreams, alas, are not always true. Did you realize that?”
Slowly Neb’s color returned to normal. He shook his head.
“I didn’t think you did,” Salamander went on. “I can’t reveal any secrets about her, being as I don’t know any, but here’s somewhat I can tell you. When we were at the Red Wolf dun, Branna came to me to ask me about a dream. She’d always dreamt that she could fly as a falcon. This is quite true. Jill could do that. But our Branna dreamt about flying over Bardek during her first trip to the islands. Since I happened to be with her at the time, I know perfectly well that dream was false. Jill hadn’t learned how to fly then.”
“So Branna doesn’t always get true lore in those dreams?”
“I’d say that she’s gotten very little lore, only memories of using the lore that Jill learned the same way we all do, the long slow painful way. Years of study, Neb, years of study—even I, wild lad that I was in my youth, have put in years of study. It’s the studying that builds the skills.”
“Dalla told me the same thing, but I—well, uh, oh never mind.”
“Nah nah nah, you won’t wiggle off my hook that easily.”
“Oh, very well! I thought I knew better. I thought if I could only remember enough to be Nevyn again, I’d have all the skill I needed.”
“Alas, such is not the case. Dweomer operates through the person you are in each life. You have to build its precepts into the flesh and blood and aura you have in each life. Memories of Nevyn would be just that: memories. You can remember, perhaps, a fine meal you had years ago. Will it nourish you now?”
Neb shook his head in a no, then looked away. Salamander could see tears in his eyes but made no comment.
“Let’s think,” Salamander said instead. “For example, consider our Gerran and his desire to build the Falcons a fine dun on the border, a noble aim that all approve. He now has the coin, he has an idea of the dun he wants, he has the charter from his overlord to build it—but is it finished, therefore?”
“And the coin represents my talent, and the idea my memories, and Dalla’s my overlord?” Neb smiled, a bare twitch of his lips, but a smile.
“Just that. It’s going to take the workmen a couple of years to build the Falcon dun. It will take you, alas, a fair bit longer to become a master of your craft, just as it took all of us years and years. It took Nevyn years, for that matter.”
Neb nodded, thoughtfully this time, his eyes narrow as he considered. That’s one fever broken, Salamander thought, but I’ll wager that others lie ahead. Aloud he said, “Dalla gave me permission to work with you—if you wanted.”
“She told me that, too.”
The silence hung between them, as palpable as the dust motes dancing in the sun through the window. Salamander forced himself to stay silent and wait. The yellow gnome stuffed one fist into its mouth in sheer anxiety.
At last Neb took a deep breath. “Will you help me. Ebañy?”
“I most assuredly will. And I appreciate how much the asking has just cost you.”
Neb smiled, then stood up. “I’d better get dressed. I didn’t mean to make Clae worry. It was the only excuse I could think of, when he woke up.”
“Well and good, then. By the by, if Lord Blethry asks you what you were doing on the roof, tell him that you were worshiping the Star Gods. It was the only excuse I could think of, when he asked me.”
They shared a laugh. Ye gods, Salamander thought, I have an apprentice of sorts—for the nonce, anyway. I must be getting old. The yellow gnome skipped around the chamber in joy.
The door to the chamber banged open, and Clae came trotting in. When he saw Neb sitting up, he smiled.
“I’m feeling much better, truly,” Neb said. “No need for you to worry.”
“That gladdens my heart,” Clae said, “and it’s a good