The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [91]
‘You look tired to me, lad,’ Nevyn said briskly. ‘Sometimes simple weariness interferes with dweomer work, particularly speculative work like this.’ He turned to Aderyn. ‘I think he’s done enough for one day. Apprentices need to build their stamina slowly.’
‘Perhaps so,’ Aderyn said. ‘Loddlaen, are you tired?’
‘I am, Da. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, no need to apologize!’ But Aderyn sounded downright peevish. ‘Did you want to just go back to camp?’
Loddlaen smiled in evident relief. He got up, looked at Nevyn, mouthed a ‘thanks’, then turned and hurried off as if he were afraid his father would change his mind and insist he remain. When Nevyn glanced at Valandario, he found that she’d carefully arranged her face to reveal nothing at all. He wondered how often she’d witnessed similar scenes.
It was Valandario’s turn to try working with the images. Although her responses were never as clear or strong as those of the two dweomermasters, she did receive impressions that matched the translations, especially when one of the formulae mentioned a gem.
‘Well,’ Aderyn said at last. ‘That’s enough for one day, I think, but we’re on to somewhat grand, if you ask me. We need to consider what these images might have meant to the dweomermasters of the old cities.’ He rolled up the scroll and put it into its box, then handed it to Nevyn. ‘Why don’t you keep the scroll with you for a while? You’re quite skilled at picking up impressions from objects like this. I’d like to know more about the original copyist and glossor.’
‘Me too. I’ll see if I can find anything out.’ Nevyn hesitated, choosing words. ‘But you know, that work requires a particular kind of silence and privacy.’
Aderyn laughed with a toss of his head. ‘You’re telling me that you’d like to move out of my noisy tent,’ he said. ‘Tactfully, of course.’
‘Of course.’ Nevyn returned his smile. ‘It’s not so much the noise, mind, as the etheric traces. People come in and out of your tent all day long. They’re usually either sick or troubled in mind, after all, and they leave disturbances behind them.’
‘True spoken,’ Aderyn said. ‘I feel them myself, especially during the winter, when I can’t get outside much. But be that as it may, we’ll have to see about getting you a tent made.’
‘Master Nevyn?’ Valandario leaned forward, and her cheeks flamed scarlet. ‘You could have my tent. You see, I’ll be moving into—well, into another one.’
‘Aha!’ Aderyn grinned at her. ‘So, Jav finally convinced you?’
‘He did. We were going to move my things this afternoon, when I returned, and I honestly did not know what to do with my tent. It’s quite well-made, Master Nevyn, though you’ll want to have your apprentice beat the floor cloth. I fear me that I do little in the way of keeping things clean.’
Valandario looked so happy that Nevyn couldn’t bring himself to voice his doubts, not so much for her, but for Javanateriel. Would he someday be as bitter as Aderyn when his woman left him for her true work? None of your affair! he told himself sharply. Besides, since Jav had not the slightest trace of dweomer gifts about him, their bond would be an ordinary one, not the iron clamp around two souls such as Dallandra had shared with Aderyn. It might be the best thing for Val, Nevyn thought. Maybe he can get her to eat more often, if naught else.
When they returned to camp, Nevyn set Gwairyc to moving their possessions over to their new tent. It was small, though big enough for two men, and well made indeed of new panels of deer hide, painted on the outside with a tracery of flowers. They pitched it some distance away from the camp itself. While Gwairyc took the filthy floor cloth away to beat out the dust and bits of ancient food, Nevyn sat just inside the door and enjoyed the relative silence. He’d been feeling a growing sense of irritation with the noise, the clutter, and the daytime disorganization of a Westfolk gathering.
‘This will be much better,’ Nevyn said to Gwairyc when he returned. ‘Sometimes I wonder if these people ever tire of making noise.’
‘No noisier than the