The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [203]
“ ranna?”Dallandra said. “Why do you hate Laz?”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Oh, indeed? I saw the way you looked at him. Ye gods, I thought he’d shrivel like a moth in a candle flame.”
“Very well.” Branna gave her a sheepish smile. “I don’t know why I hate him, and that’s the truth.”
“Much better! I suggest you meditate upon it.”
They were sitting in the chamber Angmar had prepared for them, a long narrow room with a window that opened out to the east and a view across the lake to the low hills. The last of the sunset light picked out the oak trees scattered along the far shore.
“This is such an odd house,” Branna said. “I can’t see how this chamber fits into what we see from the outside.”
“Remember that it doesn’t truly exist, which explains a great deal.”
Branna agreed with a laugh.
Dallandra glanced around and saw the basin she’d brought up earlier. “My breasts ache again,” she said. “I’d better express some of this milk. I wish I could have brought Dari, but it would have been too dangerous, traveling on the roads.” She paused, struck by a surprising thought. “I miss her.”
When she was finished, Dallandra returned to the great hall, where Laz was waiting at the honor table. In the sconces at either side of the two hearths, an array of candles burned, or at least, the illusions of candles seemed to be burning. Dallandra noticed that none of them dripped wax nor did they get shorter as time went by.
Laz looked up warily, nodded her way, then craned his neck to glance at the staircase.
“Branna’s staying in our chamber,” Dallandra said.
“Ah. You noticed the way she looked at me.”
“I did.” Dallandra sat down next to him. “So. There’s the book at last.”
“Indeed.” Laz slid it over to her. “I’m cursed glad to hand it over to you. I kept worrying that it would take off on its own one fine night.”
They shared a pleasant laugh.
“I owe you a great many thanks,” Dallandra said. “It must not have been easy, fetching this.” She glanced around. “Where’s Faharn, by the by?”
“I’m afraid he’s dead. As you say, it wasn’t easy.”
Dallandra felt herself gaping at him like a half-wit. “It saddens my heart to hear that,” was all she could find to say.
“We were traveling with the Mountain axemen contingent,” Laz continued. “We were set upon by Horsekin raiders.”
“I see. Truly, my heart aches for your loss.”
“So, oddly enough, does mine.”
“Oddly—”
“Oh, never mind!” Laz snarled, then took a deep breath. “Forgive me. It’s a sore spot.”
“I can understand that. My apologies.”
Yet she wondered if she did understand it or much of anything that Laz might be thinking or feeling. His knife-sharp face betrayed no feeling whatsoever when he looked at her. She’d been planning on simply taking the book upstairs to examine it in private, but Faharn’s death made her feel that she owed Laz a debt. At the very least, she decided, she should satisfy his curiosity about the dweomers Evandar had woven.
As soon as she laid her hand on the cover, she felt the tingle and snap of astral spirits. She opened her sight and perceived the pair as geometric shapes, one a blazing white, the other a peculiar turquoise color that reminded her of Evandar’s eyes. Laz leaned onto the table on folded arms to watch.
“My thanks for your aid,” she said to the spirits. “I come in the name of Evandar.”
The wards glowed brightly, then shrank and disappeared. Under her fingers the cover felt like ordinary leather. When she opened it, she saw a page of elven script, just as Laz had described. The next page, and the next—the same digraphs in the same order on every page—she stared at the writing and wondered why she was so surprised.
“Uh, is somewhat wrong?” Laz said.
“This is utter nonsense,” Dallandra said.
“What?” Laz straightened up and slammed his maimed hands palm down on the table.
“Except for the occasional word, like drahkonen, it means nothing