Alys Clare - Music of the Distant Stars

‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘Zarina’s a fine woman, and she loves Haward sincerely. She’ll make him happy.’

In my eagerness to reassure my mother, I had spoken without thinking. Instantly, my mother pounced: ‘How can you possibly know?’

I could not tell her. Could not begin to explain how Hrype had started to teach me the rudiments of rune lore and how, unable to resist the temptation, I had slipped away with my own crude set of symbols, succeeded in putting myself in a light trance and asked the question burning in my mind: will she make my loving, vulnerable brother Haward a good wife? The answer had come, swiftly, unequivocally, and I had read it both in the fall of the runes and in the succession of images that had seared through my head.

I could not tell my mother this. Far more crucially, I could not tell Hrype, for he had specifically warned against the perils of a novice such as I asking personal questions. The pounding, throbbing, sick-making headache I had endured all the next day was my punishment. If Hrype had noticed — and he probably had — he must have decided there was no need for him to add anything.

‘I just feel she’s the right woman for him,’ I said now. It was a weak answer, but seemed to satisfy my mother.

‘I do too,’ she said, the frown deepening. ‘I shall welcome her here, just as Cordeilla welcomed me, and I shall do as she did and endeavour to overlook what differences Zarina and I may have and concentrate on what binds us.’

‘But?’ I knew there was a but . I also knew what it was.

My mother gave a faint, defeated shrug and said simply, ‘Derman.’

I waited, gathering my thoughts. Then I said, ‘What does Zarina say? Is it definitely the case that where she goes her brother goes too?’

‘I don’t know !’ My mother spoke sharply, but I knew her frustration was not with me. ‘I said Haward’s going to marry her, but in truth I believe he hasn’t actually asked her yet.’ A soft smile lit her face. ‘He told us all two days ago that he was going to. It was so sweet, Lassair, almost as if he were asking our permission.’

That was just like my brother. I could follow his thought process: he’d have reasoned, very fairly, that his parents and his brothers were going to have to share their house with the new wife and so would have wanted to ensure they were happy at the prospect. Naturally, it was better for everyone if people liked each other. Houses in our village are pretty small. There is nowhere to get away from an uncongenial fellow inhabitant, as all of us had known all too well when Goda had still lived at home.

‘Perhaps we should just wait and see,’ I said tentatively. ‘Maybe Zarina has a plan. There could be family we haven’t heard about who could take Derman.’ My mother began to protest. ‘Yes, I know she said they were alone in the world, but maybe there’s someone who’s like a relation, but not actually kin. What about those travelling entertainers that Zarina was with when first she came to the village? It’s possible, surely, that Derman may go back to them?’

My mother looked singularly unconvinced. ‘It’s possible, I suppose, but not very likely. You see, Lassair,’ she added in a burst of confidence, ‘it’s been the problem all along, the one thing that’s come between Haward and Zarina: what to do about Derman. If there was an easy solution such as you suggest — ’ I’d never actually said it would be easy, but I let it pass — ‘then I’m sure Zarina would have said so, got on with implementing the arrangements and she and Haward would have been wed these many months past.’

‘Hmm, yes, perhaps,’ I murmured. My mother was right, and logic agreed with her assessment. The trouble was, my rune-casting and the visions it had sent me were at variance with what she said. In the glimpses I had seen into Haward’s future with Zarina, there was no sign of Derman.

Again, it was not something I could tell my mother.

‘How is he?’ I asked.

My mother shrugged. She knew who I meant. ‘The same, only more so.’ She ran a hand over her face. ‘You know when you brought him home yesterday morning, when you’d found — er, found what you found?’

‘Yes.’ I could scarcely believe it had only been the day before. ‘I came across him as I was hurrying back to the village. He seemed upset.’ Considering it now, I wondered what he’d been doing out there all by himself and what had distressed him. ‘I thought Zarina kept a close eye on him,’ I said. ‘Did he slip out, do you think?’

‘Yes, she tries not to let him wander about on his own,’ my mother agreed, ‘although she’s not always successful. He does like to go off by himself, and sometimes he’s gone all day.’ She frowned worriedly. ‘He can be quite frightening if you don’t know him — the way he looks, I mean, poor boy — and there’s always the possibility that if he strays too far from the village he’ll encounter some gang of bullies who will have cruel sport with him.’

Yes, Zarina had good cause for keeping her brother where she could watch over him. ‘So she didn’t know he’d gone out yesterday morning?’

My mother hesitated. Then she said, ‘It’s not the first time. He — Zarina thinks something very unfortunate has happened.’ A delicate pink flush spread up the smooth, pale skin of her pretty face, and I wondered what on earth was coming. ‘Derman has taken a fancy to someone,’ she said, staring down at her hands in her lap.

‘To a girl?’ It should not have surprised me for, although Derman has the mind of a child, his body is that of a man, and he undoubtedly had a grown man’s urges.

‘Of course a girl!’ my mother said sharply.

‘Is that so bad?’ I asked gently.

My mother’s eyes filled with tears. ‘What future can there be in such an infatuation?’ she said. ‘Poor boy, what girl or woman is going to look kindly on one such as he?’

‘If she’s gentle with him, and understands his limitations, it might be all right,’ I persisted.

My mother made an impatient sound. ‘Lassair, for someone who thinks she’s so clever you can be very dense ,’ she fired at me.

I started with surprise — did I think I was so clever? Yes, perhaps so, but had I let my mother see? Apparently, I had.

But already she was apologizing. ‘I should not have said that.’ She took my hand again. ‘It’s not you I’m so upset about. It’s just that. . that-’

‘That I’m here to take the blows you wish you could aim at somebody else,’ I finished for her. ‘Don’t worry, I understand.’ I reached out and hugged her. ‘So, Derman thinks he’s in love, and he’s been sneaking out from under Zarina’s vigilance to gaze at his lady love with moonstruck eyes.’ Deliberately, I tried to diminish it. I met my mother’s gaze, raising my eyebrows and silently repeating the query: is that so bad?

‘He could be so very hurt,’ my mother said quietly. I remembered Derman’s heart-wrenching sobs; perhaps the lady had already rejected him. ‘And,’ she added, lowering her voice, ‘suppose he turns violent if he doesn’t get what he wants?’

‘Violent?’ I had not associated slow, bumbling Derman with violence. Now, thinking about it, I wondered why not. His mind was like a child’s — how easily we all came up with those unthinking, dismissive words — but he was very far from being a child. Squeak was a child; well, he was eleven now, so he was fast growing to manhood, but when he was little he was not at all like Derman. He might not have known much — children don’t — but there had never been any doubt that he was intelligent. As for Leir, even at four years old it was clear he was a bright boy. Whereas it was all too plain that no spark of intellect burned behind Derman’s deep, dull eyes. If he loved some village girl and she turned him down, no matter how gently and kindly, what would he do?