just said you were back in Deverry.’
His father ignored the question and stood looking around the tent with a little twisted smile. He was a handsome man, Devaberiel, in the elvish manner, with moon-beam pale hair, and tall, walking round with a warrior’s swagger as he looked over the tent and its contents.
‘You could at least talk to me!’ Salamander took one step toward him.
Devaberiel yawned in complete indifference.
‘Curse you!’
‘Oh please!’ Marka rose to her knees and grabbed the edge of his tunic. ‘Ebañy, stop it! There’s no one there!’
She was right. His father had disappeared. No – he’d never really been there, had he? Salamander turned toward Marka and found her weeping. He could think of nothing to say, nothing at all, but he sat down next to her and reached out a hand. She clasped it in both of hers while the tears ran down her face. In a rustle of wind the Wildfolk crept into the tent and stood round the edge like a circle of mourners. Am I dead then? he thought.
At the thought he felt his consciousness rise and drift free of his body. Although the light turned bluish and dim, he could see his body slump and fall forward, spilling plates and cups alike. He could also see that he now occupied a strange silver flame-like shape, joined to that body by a mist of silver cord. Marka clasped her hands to her mouth to stifle a scream; Kwinto leapt to his feet. Evandar got up more slowly.
‘Follow the cord,’ he said. ‘Follow the cord back.’
With a rush of dizzy fall Salamander felt himself descend and slam back into the flesh so hard he groaned aloud. He lay on his back amid spilled food and stared at the peak of the tent’s roof, which seemed to be slowly turning.
‘This is terrible,’ Evandar was saying. ‘What’s happened to him?’
‘He’s gone mad,’ Marka said. ‘It’s been coming on for a long time, but now – it’s – it’s taken him over.’
Salamander watched the roof spin and tried to think. He could hear Marka and Evandar talking, but their words made no sense. Was he mad, then? Were the marvels he’d been seeing signs of madness and naught more?
‘It’s the curse,’ he whispered. ‘When Jill left us she cursed me. That much I can remember.’
Evandar dropped to one knee next to him and caught his hand.
‘Try to remember. Why would Jill –’
‘I don’t know. Something about dweomer.’
The tent spun to match the roof and dropped him into darkness.
With Kwinto’s help Marka got Ebañy settled, then left the boy there to watch his father and followed Evandar out of the tent. Sun and air had never seemed so wholesome, nor a breeze so clean. Together they walked to the edge of the caravanserai and stood in the shade of the rustling trees. Far below them on its rocks the ocean boomed and hissed.
‘Good sir,’ Marka said. ‘You seem to know a lot about all these strange things. Is Jill really working a curse against my husband?’
‘Hardly.’ Evandar paused for a short bark of a laugh. ‘She’s dead.’
Marka felt hot blood rush into her face. She could think of no apology that would matter.
‘I’m very very sorry to see your husband in this state,’ Evandar said after a moment. ‘I’ll have to do something about this.’
‘Can you help him? Oh, if you only could, I’d – well, I don’t know how we’d repay you, but we do have coin.’
‘Hush! No payment needed. I made his father a promise, and I intend to keep it. I can’t cure your husband, no. But I might know someone who can.’
Marka wept in sheer relief.
‘But it’s not going to be such an easy thing,’ Evandar went on. ‘This person is far away in your husband’s homeland. The kingdom of Deverry. Do you know about it?’
‘Well, a little. It’s supposed to be a horrible place where everyone’s a barbarian, and all the men carry swords and get drunk and chop each other to pieces.’
‘A slight exaggeration.’ Evandar grinned at her. ‘Be that as it may, Deverry’s also a wretchedly long way away, across a mighty ocean and all that, and I’m not truly sure of how we’ll get there, or if she – the person I’m thinking of – can truly heal him once we do.’
Hope sank and left her exhausted. She rubbed her face with both hands and tried to think.
‘My apologies,’ Evandar said. ‘I wish I could offer you a certainty. Although, don’t lose heart! If the person I’m thinking of can’t help, there may be others.’
‘If anyone could do something – I’m just so frightened.’
‘No doubt. Well, I’ll be off then to see what I can find.’
Evandar bowed to her, then turned and began to walk toward the cliff’s edge. He stopped and glanced back.
‘Take care of my horse, will you?’ he called out. ‘I won’t be needing him.’
He walked two paces more, then set one foot on the air as if it were as solid as a step, hauled himself up, and disappeared.
Kings in their arrogance say, ‘We were born to rule any land we can conquer.’ I say to you, ‘The universe holds lands beyond our imagining and peoples beyond our conquering.’ Be ye always mindful that your sight is short and the universe, long.
The Secret Book of Cadwallon the Druid
In Dun Cengarn, up in the far northlands of Deverry, snow lay thick on field and thatch. The lazy sun stayed above the horizon a little longer each day, but still it seemed that the servants had barely cleared away the midday meal before the darkness closed in again. On these frozen days the life of the dun moved into the great hall. Servants, the nobleborn, the men of the warband, the dogs – they all clustered at one or the other of the two enormous hearths. On the coldest days, when the wind howled around the towers of the dun and banged at the doors and gates, everyone stayed in bed as long as possible and crawled back into their blankets again as soon as they could.
At night, up in her tower room, Dallandra and Rhodry huddled together under all the blankets they owned between them. They slept in their clothes for the warmth, then stayed late a-bed as well.
‘You’re much nicer than a pair of dogs,’ she remarked one morning. ‘Warmer, too.’
‘I’m glad I please my lady,’ Rhodry said, yawning. ‘I was thinking much the same about you, actually. And no fleas.’
She laughed and kissed him, then
