The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [76]
‘Was she one of the Seelie Host, then?’
‘I think so. The Westfolk call them the Guardians, because, or so I gather, they’ve done the folk many a favour in the past. But I wouldn’t trust them.’
‘No more I, never fear.’ Morwen made the sign of warding with crossed fingers. ‘I didn’t want to say the name at first, there in front of Loddlaen, because of his mother and all, but I did wonder. We heard about those spirits in the temple lore.’
‘Did the lore say if they sometimes masquerade as gods? Or can you even tell me?’
‘Oh, that bit wasn’t secret. They do, or so the high priestess told me. I wanted to warn Tirro, but he wouldn’t listen, and then he ran off.’
‘I suspect that Tirro’s had a very painful life. This Alshandra creature must have looked splendid to him.’
‘He said she did, truly. I hope he doesn’t come to any harm.’
‘I hope so, too. If he gives me a chance, I’ll talk to him about it.’
‘Splendid! I wager he’ll listen more to you than to me.’
As far as Morwen could see, however, Tirro was determined to avoid both Nevyn and Aderyn as much as possible. During the days that followed, the apprentice had his work to do down at the merchant camp, and in the evenings, he took to sticking close to Loddlaen, if for no other reason than Gwairyc seemed inclined to ignore him as long as he was in Loddlaen’s company. Occasionally, when Devaberiel wanted some time alone with his son, Morwen would join the pair of them. She still found the Westfolk too alien to try to make friends among them, though she repeatedly told herself that eventually she would have to. Tirro never mentioned Alshandra again. Nevyn told her that he was probably afraid that she’d talk him out of his belief.
‘Some men are so hungry for god lore,’ Nevyn remarked, ‘that they’ll eat chalk if they can’t get cheese.’
Loddlaen eventually offered Morwen a glimpse of an even more exciting type of lore. After some five days of camping in the same spot, their horses and the caravan mules had eaten down the best fodder. The entire market fair, Wffyn and Westfolk alike, moved upstream some five miles to a new campground on the southern tip of a small lake. While the horses had plenty of flat grazing ground to the west, just to the north lay a low semi-circle of rocky ridge that provided shelter for the tents from the endless winds off the grasslands.
Loddlaen as usual pitched his tent some distance from the rest, close to a tumble of big granite boulders at the foot of the ridge. In mid-afternoon Morwen took Evan out of the way of all the unpacking and joined him. He’d already gathered wood for a fire and was laying out kindling and tinder in a circle of stones.
‘It’s so warm,’ Morwen said, smiling. ‘Surely you’re not going to light a fire now.’
‘I’m not,’ Loddlaen said. ‘I just like to have one ready. I hate the dark. You never know what might sneak up on you out of it. Come sit down, though. I’ve made some honey-water and put in some spices from Bardek. You’ll like it better than mead.’
He brought out two crudely glazed pottery mugs and filled them with a sweet-smelling drink from a pottery jug. Morwen had never tasted cinnamon before, and she loved it immediately. So did Evan. Since the mugs were too heavy for him to hold safely, she gave him sips from hers, but each sip turned into a long gulp.
‘Careful now,’ Loddlaen said to him. ‘You don’t want to get a sour stomach.’
Evan merely grinned and wiped his sticky mouth on the back of his hand.
‘How do you like the life of the camps so far?’ Loddlaen said. ‘I’m afraid my folk can be wretchedly noisy.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind that!’ Morwen paused to smile at him. ‘It’s splendid, compared to the life I had before. I’ve not had to scrape out a henhouse or pull rocks from a field or carry in hay for weeks now.’
‘I hadn’t thought of it that way. They must have worked you like one of the mules.’
‘Everyone works on a farm. Even my nose-in-the-air sister had her share of the hard jobs. Life here seems a fair bit easier, though, truly, Dev did warn me that the winters can be miserable.