The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [104]
The next sad death that he heard of, however, shocked him to his very soul.
It was a good many years before anyone in the Westlands saw Loddlaen again. One spring day, he turned up on the seacoast riding a decent horse and leading a mule loaded with fancy trinkets and oddments from Bardek, which he proceeded to give away to whomever fancied them. He’d gone there to study physick, he told everyone, and done a little trading to support himself while there. Valandario heard the news some days later.
‘He must have done well,’ Javanateriel said. ‘I hear that he brought back real glass beads and some silver ones as well.’
‘That’s nice,’ Valandario said. ‘Um, wait—who?’
‘Loddlaen. Didn’t you hear what I said?’
‘My dearest love, forgive me! I was brooding about my wretched apprentice again.’
Javanateriel rolled his eyes and sighed with a shake of his head. They were sitting in front of their tent, sharing a roast rabbit and some Deverry-style flatbread that Jav had cooked for their dinner. Around them the noisy life of an evening camp eddied and swirled—harp music, yapping dogs, the whining of overly tired children, singing, laughter, and the occasional angry argument all mingled together.
‘Where is ebañy?’ Javanateriel said.
‘I don’t know,’ Valandario said. ‘That’s the problem. I suspect he’s gone off to Deverry again. I wish his father didn’t expect so much from him! Every time Devaberiel starts nagging him about his progress in the dweomer, off he goes.’
‘Tell Dev to stop.’
‘I have. He doesn’t listen. Bards don’t.’
‘That’s true, unfortunately.’ Javanateriel paused to lick a greasy finger. ‘But about Loddlaen. Danalaurel told me that Loddlaen wants to see you.’
Valandario stopped in mid-bite and laid her piece of rabbit down on her wooden plate.
‘What’s wrong?’ Javanateriel said. ‘An omen-warning?’
‘Nothing so strong. I just simply don’t like the fellow.’
‘Well, maybe we can just avoid him. The grass stretches a fair long way, after all.’
‘He’s got enough dweomer to scry me out.’
‘Oh.’ Jav scowled at their campfire. ‘I forgot about that.’
‘Besides, it would be better to simply confront him and get it over with. I’m not going to sneak around the grasslands just because of him.’
‘You know, in some ways you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.’
Javanateriel was smiling at her in such open admiration that Valandario blushed. ‘No,’ she said, ‘you’re braver than I. You’ve got the courage to live with someone like me.’
He laughed, then got up, wiping his hands down the side of his trousers. ‘Want some honey water?’ he said. ‘I made some earlier.’
‘Yes, please, I do.’
Javanateriel brought the drink in a pair of wooden cups that he’d carved when she’d first agreed to share his tent. He’d sanded them down until they were almost as smooth as glass, then engraved their names around both rims. With the passing years the wood had polished up further into a rich dark patina. Valandario liked to think that their love had deepened the same way, domestic yet beautiful at the same time.
‘In a way I’d like to see Loddlaen again,’ Jav said. ‘He’s my foster-brother, after all.’
‘That’s right,’ Val said.‘Well, maybe he’s changed for the better, if he’s learned physick. It’ll give him a place in the world.’
Two days later, on an overcast afternoon, Loddlaen arrived at their alar’s camp. Danalaurel came running to tell Valandario that he’d arrived.
‘He’s asking to ride with us, Wise One,’ Danno said. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’
‘I won’t know until I talk with him,’ Valandario said. ‘So I’d better go do just that.’
Loddlaen was waiting at the edge of the alar’s horse herd. He stood next to his riding horse, a grey Western hunter, and heheld the lead ropes of two jenny mules, each carrying half-empty canvas packs. He looked much like the same old Loddlaen with his haunted eyes and nervous hands, twisting the ends of the lead ropes this