The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [97]
Finally Mic returned triumphant.
“Very well, Lady Berwynna,” Mic said in the Alban tongue, “you and your betrothed, the noble lord, Douglas of Alban, may enter the city together. You’ll have a chamber called the envoy’s quarters, set aside for visitors of the right sort.”
“Lady and noble lord are we?” Berwynna laughed at him. “I take it you lied about us.”
“Well, that you come from Haen Marn is as good as being a lady.” Mic turned to Dougie. “Remember that your father is a rich and powerful man back in your home country.”
“Of course he is,” Dougie said, grinning. “Vast holdings of land and many cattle.”
“That’s it! Good lad! Now, we’re waiting for someone to bring a carrying chair for Otho. See that tunnel over there? It leads to the entrance of the high city, where your chamber is.” Mic paused to wipe away sudden tears, but he was smiling in delight. “And my father—that’s your grandfather—will meet us there, too.”
One of Envoy Kov’s duties was setting up trade terms whenever caravans came to Lin Serr. A typical summer brought six or seven, thanks to the demand for Mountain-worked jewelry. The largest, however, always came from Cerr Cawnen, a city that had been founded by escaped bondfolk from Deverry some centuries earlier. The first caravan leader Kov could remember was a man named Verrarc, replaced upon his death by his apprentice, Jahdo. Recently Jahdo, too, had given up making the long hard trip from the east and turned the trading business over to his grandson, Aethel.
That morning Aethel had brought his caravan in to Lin Serr’s open parkland behind its first walls. Twenty muleteers were busily setting up camp and unloading a long line of mules. The huge panniers appeared heavy but in truth weren’t much of a burden for the animals, because Aethel had brought woolen goods, his usual items for trade. None of the Mountain Folk cared to raise sheep, not that they would have had much pasture for them if they had.
This trip, however, Aethel had brought something of more value as well, or so he told Kov as they stood at the foot of the zigzag stairs that led up to Lin Serr’s doors. He was a stout young man, Aethel, a good six feet tall with a broad face, brightened by perennially ruddy cheeks, and narrow blue eyes under pale eyebrows that matched his pale hair. At the moment he was leaning like a shepherd on his long quarterstaff of heavy oak.
“You may or may not remember,” Aethel said, “that our first traders brought opals and suchlike to Lin Serr.”
“I don’t remember,” Kov said, “but I’ve heard of it. Fine stones they were, too. The vein petered out some years ago, didn’t it?”
“It did just that. But another’s been found. I did bring some good stones with me.”
“Splendid! No doubt you’ll have customers for those.”
“We were thinking that mayhap one of your jewelers would be wanting to come back to Cerr Cawnen with me—to give us some advice, like, for the mining of them. We’d pay a good hire, of course.”
“Now, I can’t speak for anyone else, of course, but I wouldn’t be surprised if someone found your offer tempting. I—What’s all this?”
Kov turned around to look up at the landing at the cliff top. Someone was standing at the edge, waving his arms, and yelling, “Envoy Kov!” over and over.
“What is it?” Kov yelled back.
“Haen Marn! Haen Marn’s come back, and some of them are here! Enj and his sister.”
Kov’s first thought was that he’d misheard. The fellow up top ran down the stairs to the first bend.
“From Haen Marn,” he repeated. “Enj is here with his sister and a red-haired giant.”
“Well, now,” Aethel said, “that does sound interesting, I must say.”
“So it does. If you’ll forgive me, I’d best go up.”
“We’ll be here when you come down