Darl Magicks:Two Stories by Kerr Katharine

Author:Kerr, Katharine [Kerr, Katharine]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2013-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

The Fourth Concealment of the Island of Britain

They are standing around a long table made of polished wood. In the dream he cannot count them, cannot see their faces; they are stiff figures wrapped in gray like corpsecloth. he table he can see.

On the table lies a flat sheet of Roman papyrus. He has only seen ancient scrolls and never realized a sheet could be so large, covering half the table, nor so white. Upon it there are lines, marks—a map.

Myrddin wakes with cold sweat soaking into the blanket that covers his straw-stuffed mattress. His other blanket lies upon the stone floor next to his bed. He sits up, stretching his arms out in front of him, surprised as always by the wrinkles bitten deep into his hands and the brown mottles of old age. In his dreams he sees himself as a young man still. From his troubled night his back hurts, and when he stands up, his knees complain aloud. He puts on a pair of sandals and a linen tunic, then crosses to the window of his round tower room and pulls aside the leather curtain.

Morning sun floods over him and eases his flesh. He sits on the wide stone sill and turns his face to the sky, where rain clouds are breaking apart and scudding away to the east. From the hill fort below him, the smell of wood smoke and baking bread, the stink of pigs and horse manure rise up like incense from an altar, dragging his attention down to the busy ward. Slip-sliding in the fresh mud, servants are hurrying back and forth with firewood and buckets of water. Grooms are leading horses to the water trough.

Dressed in shirts without sleeves and loose breeches, a handful of men from Arthur’s warband stand in front of the stone keep; they are arguing about something so loudly that he can almost pick out their words. Two of them face off, raise fists, scream in such rage that they are no longer using words at all. With a shout Cei the seneschal comes running and thrusts himself in between the pair. Over the winter Cei has grown stout, and gray streaks his hair, but when one of the young cubs snarls at him, Cei grabs his arm, twists, and drops him to his knees to wallow in the mud. Howling with laughter the rest of the men disperse, and Cei walks off to the stables. The shamed man gets to his feet and slinks away.

This summer the army will patrol the border and raid into Saison territory, but it will fight no battles. Peace hangs heavy on Camulodd. How long, Myrddin wonders, will be it be before Arthur’s men start feuding among themselves? The horsemen in his warband may grumble at Cei’s orders, but they obey him in the end, will step apart and make their apologies, then go about their day as friends.

The noble lords, Arthur’s vassals and his comites both, listen to no one when honor cracks its blood-stained whip.

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