The Black Raven. Katharine Kerr

The Black Raven - Katharine  Kerr


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went dead-white and crouched back in her chair.

      ‘Now here!’ Dera snapped. ‘Mind your manners!’

      Niffa turned and ran into the far chamber. She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, her shoulders shaking. She could hear her mother’s startled voice, and Raena murmuring a frightened goodbye. In a moment the voices stopped, and Dera came knocking on the door.

      ‘Niffa! You come out of there!’

      Niffa did. Her mother was standing with her arms crossed over her chest.

      ‘Never did I raise my children to be as nasty as wild weasels,’ Dera said. ‘What meant you by –’

      ‘She were there when my Demet died, and I wager she did kill him herself. I be as sure as I can be of that, and here she was, the filthy murderess, as bold as brass in our own house.’

      Dera stared, open-mouthed.

      ‘I did see it in vision,’ Niffa went on. ‘The night he were slain, that was, and I did see her, gloating and laughing as he did lie there dead. Think, Mam! Why else does Verrarc drag his feet and refuse to look into the murder? Kiel does agree with me. Ask him if you believe me not!’

      With a long sigh Dera sat down on the bench by the fire.

      ‘Well, now,’ Dera said. ‘Your visions, they be true things, by and large, but –’

      ‘But what?’

      ‘This be too grave a charge to trust to vision, lass. I do believe you saw what you say you saw, mind. Never would I call you a liar. But I do wonder if you did see the truth or only some part of it. Here, you’ve not told anyone else this but Kiel, have you?’

      ‘I’ve not. There be fear in my heart, Mam. What if the townsfolk, they do think me the sort of witch who dabbles in evil things? Would they not drive me out of town into the snows?’

      ‘That be my worst fear too.’ Dera sat for a long while, staring silently into the fire. ‘Ah ye gods! Well, if Kiel does come home before your father, I’ll be asking him about all of this. Say naught to your father, lass, till I’ve had a chance to speak with him.’

      ‘I shan’t. But you saw that Raena. She went as pale as milk, didn’t she? It were her guilt taking the blood from her face.’

      ‘If that be true, then it’s a dangerous thing you’ve done.’

      Niffa felt herself turn cold. She sat down next to her mother and held trembling hands out to the fire.

      ‘So it was,’ Niffa said. ‘I do wish I’d thought of that before I spoke, but truly, the words wouldn’t stay in my mouth.’

      ‘Well, there be little Raena could do to us, whether your charge be true or false.’ Dera turned, looking at the bowl of honeyed apples. ‘I did think she meant us well.’

      ‘That be safe enough to eat, coming from our Verro,’ Niffa said. ‘But I’d not eat of any dish the bitch sends us from now on.’

      ‘Hush! Don’t you be calling anyone names such as that! We ken it not if Raena be guilty, and until we do, well then, let’s not speak ill of her or anyone.’

      Niffa merely nodded a hypocritical agreement. She had learned young that it was futile to argue with her mother’s relentless desire to think the best of everyone.

      Verrarc was puzzling over a strange passage in his dweomer scroll when Raena ran in, slamming the door behind her. She threw off her cloak and sank into her chair by the fire, then covered her face with trembling hands. For what seemed a long while she merely sat and shook.

      ‘What be so wrong?’ Verrarc said at last. ‘My love –’

      ‘That lass.’ Raena let her hands fall into her lap and turned a dead-white face his way. ‘Niffa. She did come as close as close can be to saying I murdered her man.’

      ‘What? How would –’

      ‘I ken it not! But she did let me see, oh and so full of hate she were as well, she did let me see that she thinks this ill lies at my door.’

      Verrarc hesitated. All her life Raena had been prone to embroidering her truths to present them in the most exciting possible light, but this time there was no denying her terror. He stood and took a few steps toward her.

      ‘Listen to me, Rae. The time be here for the truth. There be naught I can do to keep you safe without the truth.’

      She leaned back in her chair and looked up at him, her lips trembling.

      ‘Well, did you slay him?’ Verrarc said. ‘You do have strong witchery, Rae, and I ken not its limits. Did you slay Demet?’

      ‘Never!’ Her eyes glazed with tears. ‘I swear it to you, Verro. Never would I do such a thing.’

      ‘Then who did? Your Lord Havoc?’

      ‘He were the one.’ Raena started to get up, but she was shaking too hard. ‘Demet did come blundering in. The silver light, it were so strong I never did see nor hear him till there he was. And Havoc – I ken not what he did. But the lad screamed and fell back dead.’

      Verrarc realized that he’d been holding his breath and let it out in a long sigh. Raena raised one hand as if she feared he would strike her. Sweat was beading on her upper lip and forehead.

      ‘I do believe you,’ Verrarc said. ‘But do you see what this means? Your Lord Havoc. He be no god, Rae, but an evil spirit indeed. It were best if never you invoked him again.’

      ‘I must! You don’t understand! There be a need on me to find out what he does ken about –’ Her voice caught and stumbled. ‘About a certain matter.’

      ‘Rae! These cursed secrets!’

      She moaned and let her head flop back, then forward. For a moment he stood staring at her until he at last realized that she had fainted. He ran to the door that led to the back of the house and called for his manservant.

      ‘Harl! Come here!’ Verrarc shouted. ‘Your aid!’

      Verrarc ran back to Raena, who lay sprawled in the chair. He knelt beside her and caught her cold hand between both of his. All at once her head jerked up, and she seemed to be looking about her.

      ‘Rae?’ he whispered.

      Her head turned toward the sound, but her eyes – he’d never seen eyes so blank and dead. It seemed to him that her soul had fled, yet left her body still alive to move about and breathe like some mindless animal.

      ‘Master!’ Young Harl came running into the room. ‘What – Ye gods! Your lady!’

      Raena’s head turned toward the sound of his voice, but her eyes stayed dead-seeming. Her mouth flopped open, and she began to make noises, first a sputter, then a gurgling ugly rumble in her throat that nonetheless had the cadence of words. Harl gasped and stepped back fast.

      ‘Run get the herbwoman!’ Verrarc snapped. ‘I’ll tend my lady.’

      Harl nodded and raced out of the room. Verrarc squeezed Raena’s hand hard.

      ‘Rae, Rae,’ he whispered. ‘Come back!’

      Her head flopped back with a long moist sigh. Verrarc stood, then picked her up, settling her head against his shoulder. Once she’d been a solid young woman, but now – he was shocked at how light she seemed. Without much difficulty he carried her into their bed chamber and laid her down on the bed. In the small hearth, wood and kindling stood stacked and ready. Verrarc hurried back into the reception chamber and grabbed a long splint from the woodpile.

      ‘Master?’ Old Korla came shuffling in. ‘Has Harl gone daft? He did come into my kitchen babbling of evil spirits.’

      ‘Not daft in the least,’ Verrarc heard his voice shaking. ‘Did he go fetch Gwira as I asked him?’

      ‘He


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