Caught in Crystal: A Lyra Novel (9 page)

“It’s no concern of mine.”

“Is it not? The rot that is creeping through the lands of the Alliance is spreading. Will you go to your grave knowing that you could have tried to stop it, and did not?” Corrana’s voice tolled like a death knell, and her eyes were darker than a moonless sky at midnight. “Is that the example you would give your children? Is that the world you would bequeath them?”

Kayl stiffened. “The decision isn’t that straightforward.”

“We are asking for very little.”

“You’re asking for my life! It would take months for me to get to the Windhome Mountains and back. By then there’d be nothing here to return to. Utrilo Levoil would be knocking at the door with a writ of confiscation before I was gone two days. And what would happen to Mark and Dara then?”

“The protection of the Sisterhood—”

“Outside the borders of the Estarren Alliance? You’re leaving four days sooner than you’d planned because you aren’t sure you can protect yourself from the Magicseekers. I’d trust the Sisterhood to take care of two children, but how are you going to protect a whole inn?”

“We’ll build you a new one, if we must. We
need
you, Kayl.”

“The Sisterhood has plenty of swordswomen,” Kayl pointed out. She was sure that Corrana had not yet told her everything, though she could not have given the reasons behind her certainty.

“But none better suited to the task.” Corrana shook her head. “I feared that you would react unfavorably if I put my question too soon. I had intended to go more slowly, but that choice is no longer mine. I must leave tomorrow. Until then, think on what I have said. Your decision—”

“Mother!” Mark’s shout came clearly through the unshuttered window. “I got the things you wanted. Did Bryn come yet?” The door opened and he came plunging into the room, covered with dust and laden with packages. “She said she’d be—” He stopped short as he caught sight of Corrana in her silver robes, and his eyes widened.

“In a minute, Mark,” Kayl said. She looked at Corrana. “Is there anything else, Your Virtue?” she said politely. “I have work to do.”

“Go, then.” Corrana rose, her face expressionless. Her eyes raked Kayl up and down. “But I shall ask for your answer tomorrow.”

Mark looked uncertainly from Corrana’s back to Kayl’s set face as Corrana swept out of the serving room. “Is she really a star-sister?” he said tentatively.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t she tell us that when she got here?” he said in an injured tone.

“Possibly because she didn’t want to be pestered by small boys with more curiosity than sense.”

“I wouldn’t!” Mark said indignantly. He looked speculatively up the stairs. “What did she mean, about your answer?” he asked after a moment.

Kayl hesitated. “It’s a bit complicated,” she said at last. “I’ll explain it to you and Dara later.”

Mark stared, and his expression held a ghost of the one he had worn when he came charging into the inn just after Corrana’s dramatic arrival. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” he blurted. “And it’s
her
fault.”

“Not exactly,” Kayl said. She felt a wave of fierce protectiveness; whatever else might happen, she would
not
let it harm the children. She looked at Mark’s face and sought refuge in a half-truth that would be reassuring because of its familiarity. “Utrilo Levoil was here a little while ago.”

“Oh, him,” Mark said. His worried expression changed to one of revulsion. “Why does he have to bother us so much?”

“It’s his job, dear,” Kayl said. “And it’s all right for you to use that tone when you speak of him to me, but if I catch you doing it anywhere else you’ll get a month of heavy chores.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Mark said, and grinned suddenly. “Well, not much, anyway.”

Kayl shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. “Go wash the dust off those vegetables. And next time you go to market, try not to bring half the road back along with the vegetables.”

Mark nodded and vanished into the kitchen. Kayl stared after him for a moment, smiling. Then her eyes turned to the stairs, as if irresistibly drawn, and her smile faded. She sank down heavily on the nearest bench and leaned her head into her hands.

They had come for her, after all this time. They had come for her, and they wanted her to go back. Kayl swallowed. The choice she had dreaded, avoided, walled out of her life, was being forced on her, and she was not ready to face it.

How could she leave everything she had worked so hard to build, the accomplishments that had cost so much? How could she stay knowing that the things she thought she had lost forever were still awaiting her return? How could she go back, after such a bitter, painful parting? How could she refuse to go, when old friendships and old loyalties called to her so strongly?

She raised her head. The familiar room had gone suddenly strange and distant, and she shivered. Then, slowly, she rose. It was not much longer before her dinner customers would begin arriving, and there was still a great deal to do. Once again, she shoved her present worries to the back of her mind and mechanically set about readying the inn for business.

Late in the afternoon, it began to rain. The weather did nothing to keep the people of Copeham away from the inn. On the contrary, tenant farmers and laborers who would otherwise have been at work in their fields or Islorran’s appeared to join in the throng. Kayl kindled a small fire in the serving room, though normally the hearth was used only in winter, and hung her customers’ cloaks around it to dry.

Bryn arrived with the bench-legs just ahead of the rush. She finished the repair work quickly and stayed for a mug of beer. If she noticed Kayl’s irritability, she did not show it. But then, Bryn always had known when to be tactful.

Kayl found herself wishing for a similar inscrutability. Though she did her best to appear untroubled, she was well aware that she was not entirely successful. Her customers might laugh and tease as usual, but Mark and Dara tiptoed around her as though she were made of glass. With the clear perception of children, they knew that something had disturbed her deeply. Jirod, too, watched her more closely than she liked.

Their scrutiny only added to her irritation, and again she was almost glad when Corrana made her appearance in the serving room. The sorceress had apparently decided to abandon pretense. She wore the full dress robes of the Sisterhood, the same ones she had worn for her confrontation with Utrilo that afternoon. There was a murmur of respectful admiration from the diners, and a place appeared almost magically at the end of one of the tables. Corrana bowed, a glint of amusement in her eyes, and made her way to it.

Kayl sent Dara with Corrana’s meal; she was not going to serve Corrana herself if she could help it. Corrana glanced once in Kayl’s direction when Dara set the stew in front of her. Kayl took a deep breath and returned to her duties. She was busy with three beer mugs when Dara touched her shoulder. “Somebody new just came in,” she said when Kayl turned.

Kayl glanced toward the door. A tall man in a wet, travel-worn cloak and hat stood quietly just inside. The shadow of the dripping hat brim hid his face, but he was no man of Copeham. Kayl frowned slightly; he seemed familiar nonetheless. She handed Dara the mugs and went to greet him.

“Gracious welcome to you, sir,” she said as she came up to him. “How may I serve you?”

“I’m looking for the innkeeper,” the man said in a pleasant baritone that still held traces of a Varnan accent. He removed his hat as he spoke, shaking it carefully to avoid spattering any of the nearby diners. His hair was brown, cut neatly just below the ears, and he wore no beard. His smile was tired, and the planes of his face were sharper than they should have been.

Kayl’s eyes narrowed, then widened as a fifteen-year-old memory surfaced in her mind, and with a shock she knew him. Before she could speak, his hazel-green eyes met hers with a look that held both recognition and warning. “I’m the innkeeper,” Kayl said, swallowing the warmer welcome she had intended. Glyndon shal Morag had been Kevran’s friend, and her own. If he wanted to pretend to be a stranger, she would trust him—at least long enough to hear his explanation. “Are you looking for a room?”

“I am, if you have one.”

“I do. Five pence the night, seven if you want an evening meal.”

“Done. I’d be grateful if you would show me the room now; I’ll be down for the meal as soon as I’m dry enough not to dissolve your benches.”

“Very good. This way.” Kayl signaled Mark and Dara to cover the serving room, then led the new guest up the stairs. As soon as they were out of sight and hearing of the room, Kayl turned. “It’s good to see you again, Glyndon. What brings you to Copeham? And why the playacting?”

“I thought the playacting might be necessary. As to why I’m here…” His eyes dropped. “I… saw something that disturbed me.”

Kayl reached out in sympathy, then let her hand drop before the gesture was complete. “The visions didn’t leave you, then.”

“No.” His tone was restrained, but his eyes seemed suddenly haunted.

“No one could… do anything?”

Glyndon’s lips twisted. “My Varnan compatriots weren’t anxious to assist a second-rate wizard. Particularly a renegade second-rate wizard. And off Varna…” He shrugged. “It’s been two hundred years since the Wizard’s War, and you still can’t find anyone who’ll trust a Varnan, much less help one. I tried, of course.”

“I’m sorry.”

The bitter, haunted look gave way to a gleam of wry amusement. “No sorrier than I, believe me.” He hesitated. “Where’s Kevran? Away?”

Kayl found to her surprise that the old wound could still be painfully fresh. “Kevran died five years ago, Glyndon. I would have sent word, if I’d thought it would reach you.”

Glyndon’s shoulders sagged in a curious mixture of relief and hurt and shame. “I see.” There was a moment’s silence. “I’m sorry. If I’d known, I’d have come sooner.”

“I know.” Kayl paused. “I don’t suppose you’d care to explain a little more just why you’re here?”

“Tomorrow, if you’ll indulge me. I’m tired, and I don’t think it’s quite that urgent.”

Kayl looked at him, considering. Something in his tone rang false, but it was plain that he did not wish to begin a discussion now, and she had customers waiting below. “All right. I can see you’re in need of rest. But if you don’t have a good explanation ready for me tomorrow morning, you’ll wish you’d gone on to the inn in Cedarwell, even if their beds have fleas.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” Glyndon promised solemnly.

“You’d better not,” Kayl said, grinning. “Will this room do?”

Glyndon did not so much as glance inside. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll leave you to your drying off.”

“Could you bring that meal you mentioned up here?” Glyndon said with a touch of diffidence.

Kayl looked up in surprise that swiftly changed to understanding. “So you saw Corrana.”

“If she’s the vision in Sisterhood silver, yes. I’d rather not cross swords with one of them.”

“I understand.” The Sisterhood had a long-standing antipathy toward Varnans, dating back to its misty beginnings in the confusion following the Wars of Binding. “I’ll send Mark up with something in a few minutes.”

“Mark… the boy downstairs? Your son?”

“Yes, and the girl is my daughter, Dara.” Kayl did not even try to keep the pride out of her voice.

Glyndon shook his head. “Somehow, I find it hard to imagine you with children, though I’ve known of them for years.”

“Kevran sent you word?” Kayl said, surprised. “I didn’t think he knew where to find you, either!”

“I didn’t hear of them from Kevran,” Glyndon said shortly, and belatedly Kayl remembered his unwanted visions.

“I’m sorry, Glyndon. I wasn’t thinking.”

He waved her apology away. “I should know better than to be so touchy. I’ve had long enough to grow accustomed to it.” But his smile was forced.

“I hope you’re accustomed to children,” Kayl said, deliberately turning the conversation. “They’ll be after you constantly as soon as they find out you knew Kevran.”

“Kayl—” Glyndon hesitated. “Do a favor for me.”

“Of course. What?”

“Don’t tell Mark or Dara who I am, or even that we know each other, until we’ve had a chance to talk.”

“If you insist,” Kayl said. His request surprised and worried her; it was unlike him, and it made his presence seem as ominous as Corrana’s.

“I… don’t want anything to slip out in front of that star-sister you have downstairs.”

Kayl snorted to hide her concern. “You never could lie to me, Glyndon, and there’s no need to. I won’t say anything to them until we’ve talked. But that explanation of yours had better be very, very good.”

Glyndon smiled. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She turned to go.

“Kayl.”

She gave an inquiring look back over her shoulder. Glyndon stood framed in the doorway, watching her.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said, and smiled. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Kayl made her lips return his smile, and left.

K
AYL RETURNED TO THE
serving room and resumed her work as calmly as she could manage. She could feel Corrana’s eyes on her, and Jirod’s, and her children’s, but she had no reassurance for any of them. She could only hope that they would think her distraction a continuation of her earlier moodiness, and not connect it with Glyndon’s arrival.

Fortunately, the serving room was busier than ever. Corrana tried several times to attract Kayl’s attention, which annoyed Kayl. Couldn’t the woman see that Kayl had no time now for involved conversations and cryptic hints? Kayl turned away and pretended not to see.

A few minutes later, she felt a touch at her elbow. She turned and found Corrana watching her with unfathomable black eyes. “I would speak with you,” the sorceress said.

“Very well, Your Virtue.” Kayl handed the bowl of stew she was carrying to a young farm laborer, collected his coppers, and turned. “What is it?”

“Your new customer, the man who entered a few minutes ago. Who is he?”

Kayl shrugged, hiding a sudden rush of fear for Glyndon. “He hasn’t given me a name for the guest-board yet.”