The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [163]
The boulder with the silver horn stood on the lakeshore. Laz landed next to it and folded his aching wings. He’d been planning on flying straight to the manse, but his exhaustion made him pause. Although he felt perfectly confident that he could pick his way through the astral vortex, mistakes happened too easily when a dweomermaster had spent all his energies in the physical world. He transformed back into his human body and dressed, though he left his troublesome boots in his sack, then picked up the silver horn and blew three long notes.
Shortly thereafter he saw the dragon boat set out from the island. Its strange etheric crew of rowers brought her smartly across the lake, then backed oars and turned her in the shallows. Laz waded out, tossed his sack aboard ahead of him, and with Lon’s help, clambered onto the deck.
“Well, you be back, bain’t?” Lon said, smiling. “I wager you do have a few tales to tell.”
“I do, indeed,” Laz said. “I hope Lady Angmar won’t mind me imposing on her hospitality once more.”
“I doubt me that she will. You did find the island, and that be invitation enough for Haen Marn.”
Sure enough, when Laz walked into the great hall, Angmar looked up from her sewing, smiled, and waved her hand as if he’d been gone for a day or two. Mara came hurrying down the staircase and greeted him with a bit more enthusiasm but no great surprise.
“This morning Avain did see you in her basin,” Mara announced. “Welcome back!”
“My thanks.” Laz slung his sack onto the nearest table. “I’ve brought you back the dragon book, and I now know just what a treasure it is.”
“That’s so splendid! Please, do tell me more. And my sister? Be she well?”
“She was the last time I saw her, and your father as well.”
“Let the poor man sit, Mara.” Angmar laid her sewing into the workbasket on the floor next to her chair. “And fetch him some ale! Envoy Kov, no doubt he’ll be wanting to hear these tales as well, so do call him in.”
Mara curtsied to her mother, then hurried out the side door on her way to the kitchen.
“Mara seems to have learned courtesy,” Laz said, smiling, “since last I saw her.”
“It be so indeed.” Angmar returned the smile. “The hard work in the kitchen did teach her her sister’s worth, as well. Come sit down, Laz. When Kov and Mara do join us, we shall trade tales.”
“Wait—do you mean Envoy Kov of Lin Serr?”
“I do.”
“Berwynna told me that he was dead.”
“He were not, but captured by the strange folk of the Northlands.” Her smile turned soft. “My Rori did rescue him and bring him here for refuge, and I think me he be just the man our Mara does need, to be the lord here to her lady.”
“Excellent! And while I’m here, I can teach her more dweomerlore.”
“For that my heart would be grateful. There be much need upon her to learn all she can.”
In honor of his return, Mara roasted a haunch of venison for the dinner that night and made a sauce of wild mushrooms to go with it. Kov baked the bread—as a young man he had, in the custom of the Mountain Folk, lived on a farm and learned that sort of skill. As she presided over the meal, Angmar looked happier than Laz had ever seen her. When he asked, she told him that Rori had agreed to the transformation back to his human form. “That be, if the elven sages do have the knowledge they need to bring him back,” Angmar said.
“We have the book again,” Laz said. “I’ve met these dweomermasters now, and truly, if anyone can restore him, it will be they.”
“That gladdens my heart to hear. My thanks, Laz. Truly, it be good that you did return