The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [149]
Neb was merely guessing, but his guess hit home. The raven bobbed his head in acknowledgement and spoke again, a few words that seemed to say, ‘my name is—’ What the name might have been, Neb couldn’t decipher.
From down in the ward a woman’s voice shrieked in anger. Neb glanced down to see Branna, a stone in her hand. Before he could call out to her, she swung around in a half-circle and let the stone fly. The raven squawked and leapt into the air, flapping hard to gain height. The stone sailed just under his feet. A second stone followed but fell short.
‘Branna, stop it!’ Neb yelled. ‘He’s trying to parley.’
Too late—the raven was flying away as fast as his huge wings could take him. Neb watched until his form dwindled to a black speck against the sky, then climbed down the ladder to the ward. Branna was waiting for him with her hands on her hips.
‘Parley, indeed!’ she snapped. ‘He was probably going to try ensorceling you.’
‘Oh.’ Neb considered for a moment. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Well, was he that priest you told me about?’
‘He was Tirn, all right. Here, did anyone else see him on the wall?’
‘I doubt it. It’s so beastly hot today, everyone’s inside.’
‘Good. You know, you could well be right about his wanting to ensorcel me, but truly, I could have sworn he just wanted to talk. I couldn’t understand him very well. It’s the beak, I suppose. It must be blasted hard to form words.’
‘It must be, indeed. But—’
‘He walked miles and miles out of his way to see me and Clae to safety. Why would he harm me now?’
‘I don’t know.’ Branna hesitated, her anger gone. ‘I suppose it was stupid of me, then, to lob stones at him. But when I saw him, I don’t know what came over me. You traitor! I thought. And I was so angry I couldn’t think.’
‘Here! Did you truly think I would betray you?’
‘Not you! Him. He was the traitor. Whoever he was.’ She let her words trail away into a puzzled silence.
‘So! You knew him in our other When. I hope to every god you dream about this tonight.’
Unfortunately, when she woke the next morning, Branna had no dreams of past lives to report. As Dallandra had warned her earlier, now that her mind had actively engaged with studying the dweomer, those easy memories had stopped rising.
When the messengers Mirryn sent to Cengarn returned, an answer from Lord Oth came with them. He was sending men to the temple of Bel to inquire about the tattooed priest, but he doubted if Govvin would co-operate. ‘Govvin the Stubborn’, he called the head priest of the temple, and Neb could only agree. Still, he supposed, the gesture would have some effect. If naught else, it would put Govvin and Tirn, if Tirn still dwelled in that temple, on notice that the gwerbret’s men were watching them.
‘Those Lijik women are savages,’ Laz said. ‘I swear, she would have dashed my brains out with those rocks.’
‘What brains?’ Sidro snapped. ‘I can’t believe you actually landed on an enemy wall like that. Why?’
‘I wanted to talk with young Neb, of course.’
‘But the Lijik men are vicious killers.’
‘The women are, too, apparently. Neb himself is not the murderous sort, but that girl!’ Laz shuddered and lifted his arms with a little shake, as if he were remembering spreading raven wings. ‘She has a good eye, too. She barely missed me.’
‘My heart aches for you,’ Sidro said in Deverrian, ‘you dolt!’
‘My humble thanks,’ Laz said in the same, then switched back to their own tongue. ‘Oh, very well! It was stupid.’
They were sitting at the table in their cabin, where they’d been eating cold spoon bread and a sort of porridge made from barley and old gravy. When young Vek had brought them a bowlful, Sidro had decided that it would be better not to ask too many questions about the contents. On the table between them lay a red-brown pottery plate, stolen from some farm family, a crude pottery stoup, and a wood-handled kitchen knife, Laz’s entire store of dinnerware.
‘Why did you want to talk to this Neb person?’
‘I’m not sure, really.’ Laz got up, stretching his back.