The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [89]
‘Those are incredibly powerful formulae,’ Nevyn said. ‘I don’t know a word of that language, but it had its effects upon me nonetheless.’
‘I was hoping it would.’ Aderyn’s eyes gleamed, like those of a farm lad who sees a market fair spread out before him after long months of hard work. ‘This scroll was truly a splendid gift. It must have come from the ruined cities.’
‘It’s lucky it survived. I wonder why Evandar gave it to you?’
‘Well, you know, from time to time he has done favours for me. I suppose you’re right, and the wretched creature is trying to pay me a price for my wife.’
‘He may be honestly remorseful.’
‘Hah! He’s not evolved enough for that.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘Of course I am!’ Aderyn had snarled the words, but he caught himself and took a deep breath. ‘My apologies. I’m grateful for this scroll, mind, no matter what Evandar may have had in mind.’ He stroked the box lid as if it were a pet cat. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if these evocations lead me right into the centre of the lost lore.’
‘No more would I,’ Nevyn said. ‘If I were you, I’d study them most carefully before chanting any of them.’
‘Have no fear of that! I’m not given to sticking my hand into fires, either.’
One by one they worked through the formulae on the scroll. Aderyn would read the original words; Nevyn would consider them and mouth a few to see what images they evoked in his mind. Aderyn would do the same, and then they would compare the images, only to find in every case but one that they matched. At that point Aderyn would read the translation. They found that the images consistently bore some relation to details in the translation of the formula as well. The one exception was, of course, the formula with the missing word or words. Somehow or other each formula was putting them in contact with an exactly designated part of the inner planes.
By the time they’d finished reading the last evocation on the scroll, the sun was hanging half-way between noon and sundown. Nevyn felt a little dazed, even though they’d both taken care to remain in normal consciousness.
‘We need to eat,’ Aderyn said. ‘I should have brought food with us, but somehow it slipped my mind, I was so eager to take another look at the scroll.’
‘Well, I didn’t think of it either.’
‘Huh, we should both start taking some of our own herbs. Do we have any that help the memory? I don’t remember.’
They shared a laugh.
‘Which does remind me,’ Nevyn said. ‘I promised you some medicinal brimstone. I’d best fetch it before I forget again.’
Wffyn’s caravan was long gone by the time they reached the Westfolk camp. While Aderyn went to find someone to cook them dinner, Nevyn ducked into Aderyn’s tent to fetch the medicinals and found Gwairyc there, napping on top of his blankets with his saddle for a pillow. He sat up with a yawn.
‘No need for you to get up, lad,’ Nevyn told him.
‘Oh, I don’t mind being roused, my lord. I was just bored, not truly tired. In a way, I’m going to miss Tirro. Guarding the little bastard gave me somewhat to do.’
As soon as Nevyn opened his mule pack, he realized that Lord Corbyn’s silver cup was missing. He remembered that he’d tucked his supply of brimstone into the cup for safe keeping, because the dwarven alchemist from whom he’d bought it had packed the yellow powder into short lengths of sausage casing, tied off at each end with thread, an efficient but vulnerable container. He eventually found the brimstone, but not the cup.
‘Tirro, I wager,’ Gwairyc said.
‘Well, we don’t know that for a certainty,’ Nevyn said, ‘but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the thief.’
‘If one of the Westfolk wanted it badly enough, he’d have come right up and asked you for it.’
‘That’s true, isn’t it? Ah well, it’s not worth riding after Wffyn to fetch it back.’
‘No doubt, my lord, but it vexes me.’ Gwairyc shook his head as if trying to shake off the frustration. ‘It’s just too cursed easy to steal things out here, with everything lying around on the ground, like, and people coming and going from everyone