The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [67]
“What does the ‘ree’ at the end mean?” Mara said.
“It means he did somewhat or other. An agentive, it’s called. I wish I’d learned more of the Ancients’ language.”
“So do I.” Mara suddenly turned round in her chair. “Wynni, don’t eavesdrop! It’s so rude.”
“Here, here!” Laz said. “There’s no harm in her listening. I think me this book concerns everyone on the island.” He lowered his voice. “And someone off it, too, mayhap. One word I do know is that for ‘dragon,’ and another is ‘dweomer,’ and both are repeated all through the book. It may have somewhat to do with your father and how he got to be the way he is.”
“Do you think it might tell how to turn him back?” Berwynna said.
“Hush!” Laz held up one hand. “Since I can’t really read the cursed thing, I don’t know that or anything else for certain. I don’t want to give your mother false hopes. Understand?”
“Of course! I shan’t say a word to her.” Berwynna glanced toward the window, but her mother was safely engrossed in conversation with her long-lost son.
Over the next pair of days, Berwynna spent her time cooking flatbread, cutting and wrapping cheese, and smoking dried meat, provisions that were ostensibly for the men when they left. She included extra for herself. In among the packed gear and provisions, she secreted the things she’d need for the journey.
On a sunny morning, when the wind had dropped and the lake stretched out clear as glass around the island, the boatmen brought the coracles out and tied them to the pier. Berwynna and Dougie loaded them while Enj and Mic discussed the route ahead. As usual, Berwynna told Dougie what they were saying.
“We need to get to the river mouth,” Enj said, pointing south. “The problem is the beasts in the lake.”
“Lon gave me a spare gong,” Mic said, “but he only has one.”
“I can yell a battle cry.” Dougie took a deep breath and let out a howl that made Berwynna’s ears ring. “I’ll follow you in the second boat safely enough.”
“No doubt.” Enj shook his head as if clearing the last of the war cry out of his ears. “On a hot day like this, they’ll be sluggish anyway.”
As Berwynna was leaving the manse with the last pack of supplies, she noticed that the apple trees, rather than being thick with blossoms, showed little buds and the beginnings of green leaves. She stood staring at them until she heard someone walking up the graveled path: Marnmara, followed by a pair of brindled cats.
“What’s this?” Berwynna pointed at the blossoms. “I never knew that time could run backward.”
“It can’t.” Mara glanced at the buds, then shook her head in amazement. “I suppose in some ways this is a different island, that’s all.”
“That’s all, you say?”
“Wynni, if I knew more I’d tell you more! Haen Marn turns out to be a stranger place than we ever realized back in Alban.”
“What? But you’re the Lady of the Isle. Aren’t you supposed to know every little thing about it?”
“Oh, don’t be so nasty!”
Marnmara jutted her chin into the air and stalked into the manse. With a stamp of her foot, Berwynna turned and hurried toward the boathouse.
On the way she passed a little bench among the trees where Mara and Laz often sat. Apparently they’d been studying the book there, because it lay open on top of its oiled leather wrappings. How odd of them to just leave it! she thought. Normally Mara guarded it like a dragon with its hoard. Berwynna knew that she should take it back to the manse, but the coracles would be leaving, and she refused to get left behind just because Mara had been so careless. It would serve her right if I just took it. It seemed to her that she heard this thought as someone else’s voice.
Berwynna glanced around—no sign of Laz or Mara. If that book did contain the spell to restore her father, and if she found him, and if the mysterious Westfolk could work the spell—she could imagine how happy her mother would be, how glad that she had two daughters, not merely one.
The impulse hit her too hard to resist. She put down the slab of flatbread she’d been carrying, then wrapped the book carefully