The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [102]
‘Will you say a few words, Wise One?’ Jennantar said.
‘I’ll try.’ Nevyn could hear how damp and choked his voice sounded. ‘Go to the Light, little one. We’ll all miss you.’ His voice broke, and he turned away.
‘That’s enough,’ Jen said softly. ‘My thanks.’
Nevyn found it too painful to stay and watch them fill in the grave. He went back to camp and sought out Devaberiel, who was sitting in front of his tent, his harp slack-stringed beside him. When Nevyn knelt down near him, the bard acknowledged him by raising one weary hand.
‘How does Evan fare?’ Nevyn said. ‘ebañy, I mean.’
‘I finally got him to sleep.’ Devaberiel turned to look at him. ‘I’ve not told him she’s dead. He wouldn’t understand.’
‘That’s true enough.’
‘I told him that she had to go away and that she’ll be back in a while. I’m hoping he’ll just forget her.’
‘In time no doubt he will, but do you think it’s wise to lie to him? He’ll have to know sooner or later.’
‘Later is soon enough. Ye gods, it’s a hard thing to admit to your son that you failed him so badly.’
‘You failed him? How—’
‘Don’t you understand?’ Dev’s voice shook in a ghastly blend of grief and guilt. ‘She was my guest. I should have seen—should have known—should have made that cursed little wretch leave her alone. Loddlaen! He’s always been the wormy sheep in the flock. He should have been turned out long ago, truly, but that decision wasn’t mine to make. It was my duty—my sacred duty—to protect my guest and my son’s nursemaid. And I failed.’
‘Here, then I failed as badly as you.’
‘Nonsense! You’ve been trying for years to make Aderyn see the truth about his son. Has he listened? Not to one word, I’ll wager.’
‘He’s listening now.’ The voice sounded so exhausted, so old, that at first Nevyn couldn’t place it. Then Aderyn stepped into the pool of firelight. ‘What can I say? You were right. I was wrong. I never should have taught the lad the first thing about dweomer.’
Devaberiel rose to his feet. ‘Here, come sit down, Wise One. Forgive my harsh way of speaking, will you? I’m half-torn apart by this, but I’m a father, too, and I know how hard it must be when your son does—’ he paused briefly, ‘—somewhat like this.’
Aderyn hesitated, then took Devaberiel’s outstretched hand and clasped it. ‘He was all I had left of Dalla,’ Aderyn said. ‘I couldn’t say him nay about one little thing.’ With a sigh he let go of the bard’s hand and sat down next to Nevyn. ‘I’d like to blame her, of course, but I can’t. She left him with a wetnurse who loved him and a father who loved him more. He shouldn’t have come to harm. I’m the one who spoiled him.’ Aderyn covered his face with both hands, but he neither sobbed nor spoke more.
Devaberiel sat down opposite them. For a long moment the silence grew, as discomforting as the summer’s humid air, thick around them all.
‘Where is Loddlaen now?’ Nevyn said at last.
‘Gone.’ Aderyn was staring into the darkness. ‘He took his gear and some of our horses and fled. I’ve no idea where he’s going. Some other alar will take him in. We’ll meet again in good time, no doubt.’
No doubt, Nevyn thought. And will you forgive him, then? Abruptly Aderyn got up. He paused for a moment, looking at Nevyn, then with a shrug turned and walked away, heading in the direction of his tent. Nevyn rose too and took his leave of the bard, but he went to his own tent. Out in front of its door Gwairyc was sitting by a tiny fire, feeding it twigs to keep the light burning.
‘I see you waited up for me,’ Nevyn said.
‘I did,’ Gwairyc said. ‘I thought I’d ask if you wanted me to track down Loddlaen and slit his throat for him.’
‘I don’t. If it would bring Morri back, I’d take your offer gladly, but it won’t, and I’d not add to Aderyn’s grief. We’ll be leaving on the morrow, by the by. Staying would only pour vinegar in Aderyn’s wounds.’
‘Fair enough. Well, the poor lass! But in a way, she’s better off. No one can ever mock her again, but you know, my lord, I’m sorry now that I didn’t keep a better guard over Morwen.