Andre Norton - Dragon Scale Silver

But if I must accept that Elyn felt differently, what lay in days ahead? I could return to that nameless dale—unless early winter sealed it off—where the Wark folk stayed. There was nothing to tie me to them save Aufrica. Yet I had known when I rode forth that her farewell to me had been lasting. There was no need for two Wise Women there, and she had done her best for me. I was now a woman grown and proven in power. The hatched fledgling cannot be refitted into the eggshell from which it has broken free.

Coomb Frome? No, I had nothing there either. I was sure I had read Brunissende right in the short time I had seen her. She might accept her Dame, but a Wise Woman close kin to her lord—there would be more sidewise looks.

But if I went not to the Dale nor to the Keep, where would I venture? Now I looked about me wonderingly, for it seemed, in that moment of realization, I was indeed cast adrift and even the land around me took on a more forbidding cast.

“Do we go on?” Once more Jervon spoke as if he could read my unhappy thoughts.

“Where else is there to go?” For the first time in our companying I looked to him for an answer, having none myself.

“I would say not the Keep!” The decision in that was sharp and clear. “Or, if you wish, only to make sure of Elyn’s return, to visit only and let that visit be brief.”

I seized upon that—it would give me breathing space, a time to think—to plan.

“To Coomb Frome then—in brief.”

Though we perforce went slowly, by mid-afternoon we were sighted by those Elyn had sent to meet us. So I came a second time to the Keep. I noted also that, though we were treated with deference by that party, yet Elyn had not ridden with them.

We reached the Keep long after moonrise and I was shown into a guest chamber where serving maids waited with a steaming copper of water to ease the aches of travel, a bed such as I had never known for softness. But I had slept far better the night before on the bare ground in the wilderness, for my thoughts pricked and pulled at me.

In the morn I arose and the maids brought me a soft robe such as the Dale ladies wore. But I asked for my mailed shirt and travel clothes. They were then in a fluster so I learned that by my Lady Brunissende’s own orders those clothes had been destroyed as too travel-worn.

Under my urging one of the maids bethought herself of other clothing and brought it to me. Man’s it was but new. Whether it had been for my brother, I knew not. But I wore it together with boots, my mail, and the sword belt and sheath in which rested the mutilated weapon which had routed the Curse.

I left my cloak, my saddlebags, and journey wallet in my room. My brother, they told me, was still with his lady—and I sent to ask for a meeting.

So I went for the second time into that fated tower room. Brunissende saw me first and she gasped, put out her hand to grasp tight Elyn’s silken sleeve. For he wore no armor.

He gazed at me with a growing frown. Then he took her hand gently from his arm to stride towards me, his frown heavy as he looked me up and down.

“Why come you here in such guise, Elys? Can you not understand that to see you so is difficult for Brunissende?”

“To see me so? I have been so all my life, brother. Or have you forgotten—?”

“I have forgotten nothing!” he burst out, and it was as if he were deliberately feeding his anger, if anger it was, that he might brace himself to harsh words. “What was done in Wark is long past. You have to forget those rough ways. My dear lady will aid you to do so.”

“Will she now? And I have much to forget, do I, brother? It would seem you have already forgotten!”

His hand came up; I think he was almost moved to strike me. And I realized that he feared most of all—not me as a Wise Woman, but that I might make plain to Brunissende the manner of his ensorcelment.

“It is forgotten—” He said those words as a warning.

“So be it.” I had had no decision to make after all. It had been made for me, days, seasons—long ago. We might be of one birth, of one face, but we were otherwise hardly kin. “I ask nothing of you, Elyn, save a horse. Since I do not propose to travel afoot—and that I think you owe me.”

His frown cleared a little. “Where do you go? Back to those of Wark?”

I shrugged but did not answer. If he wished to believe that, let him. I was still amazed at the chasm between us.

“You are wise.” Brunissende had crept to his side. “Men hereabouts still fear the Curse. That you have had dealings with that power seems fearsome to them.”

Elyn stirred. “She broke it for me. Never forget that, my lady.”

She answered nothing to that, only eyed me in such a way as I knew there could be no friendship between us.

“The day grows, I will ride.” I had no desire to prolong this viewing of something already buried in the past.

He gave me the best mount in his stable, ordered out also a pack horse and had it loaded with gear. I did not deny him this attempt to salve his conscience. All the time I saw the looks of his men who, seeing us so like together, must have longed for the mystery to be explained.

After I had mounted I looked down at him. I did not want to wish him ill. He lived by his nature, I mine. Instead I made a sign to summon fortune and blessing to him. And saw his mouth tighten as if he wanted it not.

So I rode from Coomb Frome, but at the gate another joined me. And I said:

“Have you learned where your lord now lies? Which way do you ride to return to his standard?”

“He is dead. The men of his following—those still living—enlisted under other banners. I am without a lord.”

“Then where do you go, swordsman?”

“I am without a lord, but I have found a lady. Your road is mine, mistress of powers.”

“Well enough. But which road and where?”

There is still a war, Lady. I have my sword and you yours. Let us seek where we can best harry the Hounds!”

I laughed. I had turned my back on Coomb Frome. I was free—for the first time I was free—of Aufrica’s governing, of the wretched survivors of Wark, of the spell of the dragon cup, which henceforth would be only a cup and not any lodestone to draw me into danger. Unless—I glanced at Jervon, but he was not looking at me, but eagerly at the road ahead—unless, I chose to make it otherwise. Which at some future day I might just do.