The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [101]
‘You wretched young dolt!’
Nevyn dropped to his knees beside her body and laid a hand on her face. Instantly he knew that her etheric double had already separated from the dead flesh. He crouched low over her to hide his face and slipped into trance. When he raised his Sight to the etheric, he saw only the billows of the blue light—not so much as a trace of her. He returned to normal consciousness and sat back on his heels. Loddlaen was staring at him, his eyes tear-filled in a dead-pale face.
‘Let me guess,’ Nevyn said. ‘You decided to show her how to travel on the etheric. You forgot that she had no idea of how to stay there or get back safely.’
Loddlaen threw back his head and howled in grief and terror both.
‘I thought so.’ Nevyn got up. ‘There’s naught I can do for her. She’s dead.’
‘Morri!’ Loddlaen screamed the name, then whispered. ‘Morri, Morri, Morri.’
Loddlaen wrenched himself out of Devaberiel’s grip. He raced off into the darkness beyond the dweomer light’s circle of glow. Dev took two steps after him, then sighed and let him go.
‘I doubt me if he meant to harm her,’ Dev said.
‘I doubt it, too,’ Nevyn said. ‘If I hadn’t, he’d have gone to join her.’ Slowly he rose and turned to face Aderyn, who stood nearby, silently weeping.
‘I warned you,’ Nevyn said—then hated himself for saying it. I might as well have fetched him a blow across the face, he thought. ‘My apologies, oh ye gods, I don’t know what made me say that. I should never have—a thousand apologies!’
‘I deserve it,’ Aderyn whispered. ‘I know.’ His voice choked on the tears.
‘By the Dark Sun!’ Devaberiel said abruptly. ‘ebañy! He’ll be waking up!’
The bard took off running, heading back into the camp.
With a wave of one hand Jennantar caught the attention of the Westfolk who had clustered around the two dweomermasters.
‘Someone go fetch a blanket,’ he said. ‘We should wrap the poor lass up properly, anyway, and we don’t want any of the children in camp seeing her like this.’
‘Let’s take her into a tent,’ Farendar said. ‘I’ll help carry.’
‘Good idea,’ Jennantar said. ‘The Wise Ones will handle—well, handle the rest of this.’
Between them they picked up Morwen’s body in as dignified a manner as they could, then hurried off. Aderyn sank to his knees, slumped forward, and stared blindly at the grass. Nevyn sat down next to his friend and waited while Aderyn struggled to compose himself. Nevyn was surprised at his own feelings, or rather, at their odd absence. He felt so detached that he realized he’d been expecting a tragedy such as this, yet another evil thing that would tear his Brangwen from him once again.
‘I can’t.’ Aderyn raised his head and looked at some distant point. ‘Talk just yet, I mean. Could we –’
‘Discuss this later? Of course. I just want to ask you again to forgive me for that remark, and now I’ll go back to camp.’
Among the tents subdued children sat on the grass and watched him go by without speaking. Farendar was standing at the door of his tent, waiting for him. When he beckoned, Nevyn joined him. He could just see a white-wrapped bundle lying on the floor cloth inside.
‘Shall we bury her in the earth?’ Farendar said. ‘Or give her to the fire?’
‘The earth, I think,’ Nevyn said. ‘As her people do. A deep grave, a stone over it. Bury some prized thing with her, perhaps, if she brought any with her.’
‘Very well. We’d follow our own rites for her if you thought best, but the way of her folk, well, that sounds proper.’
‘When –’
‘As soon as possible. We want to take her a good distance from camp, you see, so little Ebañy won’t have to watch.’
‘Ah, the poor little lad!’
Farendar wasted no time organizing the funeral. He found Albaral, and the two of them dug a grave near the merchant’s camp but not in it—a place between her new people and her old, as Far put it. Since she was as light as a child, Jennantar carried her body over and laid it gently down into the raw earth. Next to her they put the sack of goods she