The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [71]
Once the herbs had done what they could for her hand, Morwen went back to Devaberiel’s tent. She found Dev inside, taking a pair of wooden bowls out of a tent bag.
‘I’ll fetch us all some dinner,’ he said. ‘Evan—I mean, Ebañy—come with Da. Morri needs to rest.’
When he left, Evan toddled along eagerly after him. Morwen spent a moment looking around the tent. Her shabby blankets lay by the door, while Dev had placed his own on the other side of the hearth, which amounted to a collection of flat slates under the smoke hole in the roof. A collection of brightly coloured tent bags hung on the walls, and a scatter of leather cushions lay on the painted floor cloth. Even though she’d already spent one night there, still it struck her as gaudy and strange. But it’s a fair bit nicer than my old shed, she thought. Thank the gods for that!
It was also, at the moment, stuffy after a long summer’s day with the scent of dust and sun-warmed leather. Morwen went outside to wait for Dev to return. She had just sat down in the grass outside when Nevyn joined her.
‘I hope I didn’t shame you,’ Morwen said.
‘Not at all,’ Nevyn said. ‘I was startled at first, and then I was afraid you were going to be hurt. I see that my fear was quite unnecessary.’
‘Well, I truly don’t know what came over me, except I absolutely hate seeing Evan cry. I—Oh wait, here’s the little troublemaker coming now.’
The dark-haired boy with the yellow eyes walked towards them, but he stopped a safe distance away and stared at the ground. Red and purple bruises blotched his face. He was carrying Evan’s ball.
‘I brought it back,’ the boy said in Deverrian. ‘And I’m sorry I called you ugly, and Ebañy doesn’t really stink.’
‘It gladdens my heart to hear you say so. I’m sorry I hurt you. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘Well and good, then. I’ve got to go apologize to Danalaurel now.’ He tossed her the ball, then trotted off.
‘Danalaurel?’ Nevyn said.
‘That’s Evan’s little friend,’ Morwen said.
‘Ah, I see. Well, it looks like Loddlaen did exactly the right thing for your hand. It’s swollen, but not half so much as I expected.’
‘It was very kind of him, truly.’
‘It was, and I’m a bit surprised. He can be sullen at times, that lad, and moody, but then, his life didn’t get off to the best of starts.’
‘Indeed. He told me how the other children teased him. Is that what you mean?’
‘Partly. When he was new-born, his mother had very little milk, and he went hungry for a while until she found him a wetnurse. And then—’ Nevyn hesitated for a moment. ‘Well, I shouldn’t be telling tales.’
‘Oh come along!’ Morwen smiled at him. ‘I’ll not be repeating anyone’s secrets. I’ve had to keep my thoughts to myself for my whole life.’
‘Very well. Loddlaen’s mother was a Wise One, too. Or is, I suppose I should say.’ Nevyn thought for a moment, frowning. ‘I assume that Dallandra’s still alive somewhere, at least in some form or another. She went off with the Seelie Host, you see.’
Morwen crossed her fingers in the sign of warding. Everyone knew that the very mention of the Host brought danger.
‘The whole affair was very sad,’ Nevyn went on. ‘But it was her wyrd and work to go. Perhaps she never should have tried to marry and live like an ordinary woman of her people, not that I realized it at the time. Aderyn’s never truly recovered, and you can imagine the effect on her son.’
‘I can indeed. Naught good, for a certainty. Is that why Loddlaen looks so troubled now and then?’
‘Partly. The lad’s seen other trouble in his life, too, but truly, that’s not a tale I can tell you.’
‘Well and good, then. I shan’t pry.’
It wasn’t until much later that Morwen remembered Nevyn saying ‘it was her wyrd and work to go’. What did he mean by that? she wondered. It was, she supposed, just another of the many strange things