[Lyra 04] - Caught in Crystal Read online

  The answer came almost as soon as the question had been phrased. She was afraid of the disruption the woman’s arrival might bring to her orderly way of life. Kayl stared at the kitchen wall for a long moment, appalled. When had she begun to cling to the somewhat dubious security of life as an innkeeper in a small Mindaran village? She had wanted more, Kevran had wanted more, once. And how had she not noticed what was happening to her?

  Her mind ran quickly through her years here, pointing out the little changes in attitude that had summed to such a terribly unwelcome total. The difficulty of being accepted by the villagers when they first arrived; the comfort of having a place that was theirs; working side by side with the villagers the time the river had threatened to flood; Dara’s birth, and the nameless child who had died, and Mark; Kevran’s death of the summer sickness; the struggle to be both mother and father to two small children; the growing acceptance by the village in the wake of Kevran’s death; the wanderers who didn’t pay their bills or tried to intimidate her into lowering her prices; the rising taxes Islorran demanded. So many things, and so small.

  And there was nothing she could do about it now. She was what she was; the years had shaped her as surely as a smith shaped steel.

  The rear door banged. Kayl snatched up a cleaver and an onion, and began to chop. Mark knew that her eyes always watered when she chopped onions; even if he noticed, he would not ask his mother why she was crying over the kitchen pots.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  The evening meal was normally the busiest time of day at Kayl’s inn, and this evening was even busier than usual. Far from frightening Kayl’s customers away, Corrana’s dramatic arrival was a magnet. Nearly everyone in Copeham had found some excuse to stop in, and, once in, they stayed.

  Just as the sun was setting, Corrana descended the stairs at last. She had changed her loose black robe for a clinging one of deep forest green. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders, hiding whatever clasp held the sweep of the robe’s neckline. She had taken off her rings, and Kayl saw no sign of the silver skull necklace. She seemed to float down the stairs, oblivious to the sudden silence below.

  Kayl greeted her appearance with a relieved sigh. Perhaps now some of the merely curious would leave, and she would have a chance to relax a little. She moved forward, no faster or slower than she would have gone to greet any other guest. “My lady,” she said, inclining her head slightly.

  Corrana’s lips curved. “Greetings, innkeeper.” There was the briefest hesitation between the two words, just long enough for Kayl to take note of it. Her eyes were fixed on Kayl, as if no one else in the room was of any importance. Kayl nodded again, with as much respect as she could muster, and turned to lead the way between the tables.

  The villagers drew back almost imperceptibly as the two women came among them. Kayl caught the eyes of Holum, the metal worker, and quirked a corner of her mouth at him. Holum’s eyes narrowed; then, reluctantly, he smiled back and hoisted his beer mug. The movement, small as it was, broke the atmosphere of tension. A murmur went through the crowd, and then the hum of conversation rose once more. Kayl felt some of the tightness leave the muscles in her shoulders and back.

  She reached the head of one of the long tables and arranged a place for Corrana, close enough to the window to have the benefit of the night breeze. The woman seated herself gracefully as though unaware of the fascinated eyes of the villagers. Kayl signaled Mark. “A bowl of the stew,” she told him.

  “You’re sure you want her to have that?” Mark said.

  “Why not?”

  “It has too many onions in it.”

  “You think stew has too many onions in it if I wave one at the pot while it’s cooking,” Kayl said without irritation. “Go along and get it.”

  Mark shrugged and left, threading his way rapidly among the benches and tables. Kayl turned back to find Corrana watching her with speculative and slightly disapproving eyes. “You are remarkably easy with your staff,” she said, glancing at Mark’s retreating back.

  “That,” Kayl said coldly, “is my son, Mark.”

  A look of surprise came into Corrana’s eyes. She made a little motion with her left hand, the first completely unnecessary gesture Kayl had seen her make. The movement made something glint beneath the heavy black tresses that lay across her left shoulder. “Your son.”

  “My youngest,” Kayl said. She did not know why this woman was discomfited by the thought, but, after the way Corrana had disrupted her peace of mind, Kayl took a malicious satisfaction in seeing her even momentarily at a loss.

  “You have others?”

  “A daughter. They’re a great help to me.”

  Mark chose that moment to return with the stew. Corrana pulled away from the table as he leaned over to set the bowl before her. Her hair fell aside momentarily, revealing the silver clasp that held her robe at the left shoulder.

  It was a heavy, sculpted piece in the shape of an eight-pointed star. The metal had been polished until it seemed to shine with its own light, and in the exact center was a milky white stone. Kayl stiffened in shock. With the last of her presence of mind, she turned away before Corrana or Mark noticed her expression.

  Corrana was a sorceress of the Sisterhood! Kayl stared blindly out the window at the night, her mind churning. Was it coincidence or deliberate planning that brought Corrana to Copeham? Coincidence, surely; if the Sisterhood had wanted Kayl back, they would not have waited fifteen years to send someone looking for her. Kayl took a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting, then turned away from the window. She made certain that Corrana was satisfied with the meal, noting as she did that the badge of the Sisterhood was once more invisible beneath the sorceress’ hair. Then she went back to her other customers.

  As she worked, Kayl watched Corrana surreptitiously. Unanswered questions chased themselves through her mind. Why had Corrana hidden the fact that she was one of the Silver Sisters? And why reveal it now, to Kayl? Corrana must have wanted her to see the clasp, or she would not have worn it at all. Kayl handed a fresh mug to Zia, the seamstress, and gave her a mechanical smile, then glanced at the sorceress again. One week, she thought. She’ll be gone in a week. A week isn’t long.

  Corrana did not appear to notice Kayl’s scrutiny. She ate slowly, then rose and ascended the stairs once more. The buzz of conversation grew louder as soon as she was gone. Everyone had some speculation as to who she was, where she had come from, and why she might have chosen to spend a week in Copeham.

  Kayl did not participate in the discussion, though she was occasionally tempted. She sifted with care the scraps that came her way, trying to piece together a picture of village opinion. No one else had noticed the badge of the Sisterhood, that much was clear. Her eyes narrowed. Corrana had deliberately allowed Kayl, and only Kayl, to see the clasp she wore. Then Kayl shook her head. She was getting as full of fancies as Mark and Dara.

  “Kayl.”

  The deep voice behind her made her jump. She turned. Jirod was seated in the corner behind her, a little apart from the rest of the crowd. He was watching her with warm concern. “Good evening, Jirod,” Kayl said. “Need a refill?”

  “No,” the man replied, and Kayl realized belatedly that his beer had barely been touched. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  Kayl hesitated. She glanced quickly around the room; no arms were raised in summons, and Dara was poised by the counter, ready to answer the next beckoning hand. Hoping her daughter hadn’t noticed whom she was talking to, Kayl said, “I think I can take a short break.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say you were too busy,” Jirod said as she took an empty place across from him.

  “I am, which means I can use the rest. Mark and Dara can handle things for a little while.”

  “You work too hard.”

  “Who doesn’t? What did you want to talk to me about?”

  Jirod looked down. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  �
�All right?” Kayl said, puzzled.

  “Your new guest looks as if she could be a problem.”

  Kayl stared at him as comprehension dawned. “Has Dara been talking to you?” she demanded.

  “I don’t need a twelve-year-old to point out what’s under my eyes!”

  “That’s not what I meant. Oh, never mind. I’m fine, Jirod, and Corrana’s no more a problem than any other noble with more money than sense. In fact, she’s easier to deal with than most of them; she’s quiet and doesn’t expect flame-jugglers and musicians in a town this size.”

  “She’s a witch, Kayl.”

  “Maybe. But what if she is? She pays good coppers for her board, the same as any other customer.”

  Jirod looked at her with a somber expression. “Kayl, you’ve been jumpy all evening. And I saw your face when Mark served her. You were frightened for him. You can’t make me believe that you’d react that way without a reason.”

  “I’m fine, Jirod,” Kayl repeated, her lips tightening. “Just fine.”

  “All right, then. You know where to find me if that changes.”

  Kayl nodded as politely as she could, and rose. There was no point in continuing the conversation. She’d only end up snapping at him for trying to be helpful. “Thank you, Jirod,” she said with as much warmth as she could muster. “But it’s time I was getting back to work.”

  As she left the table, she saw Dara glance worriedly in her direction. There were customers at three different tables calling for beer, so it was some time before she had a chance to speak to her daughter. Finally they were both behind the counter at the same time.

  “I didn’t say anything to him, Mother,” Dara said in an urgent whisper. “Honest I didn’t.”

  “I know that,” Kayl said.

  “Oh.” The word held a wealth of relief. “When you got up frowning like that, I was afraid you thought I had.”

  “I wasn’t annoyed with you, Dara.”

  “Jirod said something wrong?”

  “That’s between him and me. The last table on the right wants more stew; see if there’s any left.”

  Dara rolled her eyes and left. The evening dragged on interminably. Slowly, the villagers trickled out. Jirod stayed. Kayl avoided his corner, letting Dara and Mark handle the customers on that side of the room, but she was aware of his eyes on her as she worked.

  His presence annoyed her; the man acted as though she was a helpless featherhead who needed taking care of. She knew she was being unfair, but it was a relief to be angry at someone. When he left at last, she was washing mugs in a bucket behind the counter. She did not look up from her work until the door had closed behind him.

  Finally the last of the villagers departed and the few guests climbed the stairs to their rooms. “Whew!” Mark said, surveying the inevitable litter of dirty plates, crumbs, spilled beer, and half-empty mugs. “What a night!”

  Dara flopped down on one of the benches. “Oh, my feet hurt!”

  “I’m not surprised,” Kayl said. “There were more people in here than we had the night the Prefect’s son came through.” She fished the last of the coins she’d collected out of the leather pouch sewn inside her belt and added them to the main collection in the heavy wooden box where she kept the night’s receipts. She relocked the box and set it on the counter where she wouldn’t forget to take it with her when she left the serving room.

  “How did we do?” Dara said anxiously.

  “I haven’t counted up the total yet, but I think we did very well indeed,” Kayl replied.

  “I bet it’ll be just as bad tomorrow,” Mark said gloomily.

  “You don’t have anything to complain about,” Dara retorted. “You sat in the kitchen most of the night while I was running around the tables.”

  “It’s hot in there!” Mark said. “Hot and sticky. And I ran tables, too. Didn’t I, Mother?”

  “You both did a wonderful job tonight, and I’m proud of you,” Kayl said. “I’ll finish up down here; you go off to bed. If tomorrow night is anything like this one, you’ll need a good night’s sleep.”

  The two children did not wait for a second invitation. They left at once, as though afraid Kayl might change her mind and call them back to sweep floors and clean dishes. Kayl watched them go, then set about clearing up the mess. She let the lamps burn low while she worked. When she finished at last, she put out all but one lamp and sat down by the window. She stared at the thick darkness outside, while the shadows deepened around her. Once she glanced over at the smooth, gray stones of the seldom-used hearth. She half rose, then shook her head and sank back into her seat, and for a long time she did not move. Finally, she rose and started toward the money-box. Halfway across the room, a tingling ran down her spine, the half-forgotten but unmistakable feeling of magic.

  Kayl whirled. The room was empty, but the tingling grew stronger. She forced herself to stand motionless, trying to feel the direction from which the sensation was coming. Her head turned. Upstairs. She hesitated, then retrieved the money-box and started forward. She hesitated again beside the lamp, then went on without it.

  She moved slowly but surely; she knew every inch of this inn, even in the dark. The tingling grew stronger as she climbed the stairs. Her lips tightened. Demons fly away with Corrana! She had to be behind this; there was no one else in Copeham who knew more than the most basic spells.

  Kayl reached the top of the stairs and stopped short. Pale lights flickered across the door of Corrana’s room, like the cold shine of light on the scales of invisible snakes. They were so faint that if she had been carrying a lamp, she would have missed them. The pattern was a warding; Kayl had seen enough of them to recognize it at once, though she herself was no magician. She stared at it, feeling angry and a little frightened. She had a momentary urge to pound on the door, but she suppressed it. Annoying a sorceress, even a minor one, was seldom a good idea, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that Corrana was rather more than minor.

  After another moment’s consideration, Kayl turned and went back the way she had come. The warding spell was doing no harm, and it was unlikely that anyone else would notice it. She was climbing into bed, having hidden the money-box in the safety hole beneath it, when the thought struck her. What was Corrana doing that she felt a need to guard her door with spells in a town as small and quiet as Copeham?

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  Kayl was awakened next morning by the sound of Mark and Dara squabbling outside her door. She frowned, as much at her own tardiness as at the noise of the quarrel. Normally she was awake well before either of the children. She pulled her under-tunic on hastily and went out to see what the problem was this time.

  “There!” Dara said as Kayl approached. “I told you she’d wake up if you kept shouting.”

  “I wasn’t shouting!” Mark shouted. “You were the one who—”

  “Quiet,” Kayl said sternly. “How many times have I told you to be careful in the morning? You’ll wake the guests.”

  “That’s what I told him, and he—”

  “But Mother, she won’t let—”

  “I said, quiet.” Kayl waited a moment, then continued. “Now, one at a time please. What’s this all about?”

  “He wouldn’t stop—”

  “She thinks I—”

  “Stop! Dara, suppose you explain your side of it first.”

  “We woke up early, so we decided to surprise you and do the morning chores before you got up,” Dara said. “Only Mark wanted to start with taking wash water up to that weird lady who came yesterday.”

  “She’s not weird!” Mark interrupted. “She’s a sorceress.”

  “How do you know she’s a sorceress?” Dara said scornfully.

  “Everybody said so!”

  Kayl intervened before the battle could resume. “So Mark wanted to carry water up to Corrana’s room. What then?”

  “She wouldn’t let me!” Mark burst out.

  “It’s too early,” Dara said.
“And you can’t go waking up guests just because you’re curious about them.”

  “I wasn’t going to wake her up,” Mark said in tones of wounded innocence. “And I wasn’t curious. I just wanted to make sure we did everything right. She’s important.”

  “If she’s so important, I should be the one to take the water up,” Dara retorted. “You always spill.”

  “I do not!”

  “That’s enough,” Kayl said. She looked from Mark to Dara and sighed. It was just like them to plan a pleasant surprise for her and then end up arguing about which of them should do what. And she didn’t care for Mark’s apparent interest in Corrana. She’d have to tread carefully, though; if she simply forbade him to hang about the woman, he would immediately begin thinking up ways to do so anyway. She looked back at Mark. “I’m afraid Dara’s right, Mark; it is too early to be carting things up to the rooms. I’m glad you’re worried about giving good service, but I don’t think waking up a guest is the way to impress her.”

  “I wasn’t going to—”

  “If she’s a light sleeper, you may have done so already,” Kayl said.

  Mark frowned rebelliously, but he could hardly deny it after the furious argument had wakened Kayl. “Well, maybe.”

  “I think you should draw a jug or two and heat it up over the kitchen fire. Then it’ll be ready as soon as Corrana wakes.”

  “Can’t I—”

  “No.”

  Mark glared at her, trying to decide what his chances were of winning a continued argument. The verdict was apparently not favorable. He turned the corners of his mouth down in a ferocious pout and started for the back door, stomping his feet as hard as he dared.

  “Mark!”

  “What?” His tone was half-sullen, half-belligerent.