brunette among the straight yellow thatch heads of the fisherfolk of Cliff Cove or Tarport. “I am not from here. I don’t think I could pretend to be.”
She stood up, and Neve held the mirror. She wasn’t sure she recognized the stranger in it. “Well. That will just have to do. What do we have for footwear, because I don’t think my water diviner’s boots will do, will they? They’re the best boots I’ve ever owned.”
Neve looked at them, critically. “They’re good boots. But, well, they look like, well…men’s wear. Lady Vivien—she sent the clothes and the combs with me, sent some lachet boots for you. They’re good boots.”
Meb tried them. “They’ll do. But they’re too narrow. I have wide feet. Finn said it was from going barefoot. He had to get the cordwainer to change his lasts to make them for me.”
Neve looked impressed. “Specially made just for you? This Finn, he was your father?”
“My master,” said Meb quietly. “I love him very much. But…”
Neve nodded understandingly, although Meb was absolutely sure she did not even start to understand. But Meb wasn’t going to try to explain. Instead she walked to the door. “Do you think I get to break my fast before going to see the mage? Or does he feed me on the bones of dead men?”
Neve shuddered. “I don’t know, m’lady. No one goes to his tower. I told you. I don’t know what is in there.”
Meb took a deep breath. “Time to find out, I suppose. Can you show me where I have to go?”
“Well, there’s an inner door, but it’s locked. I’ll have to take you into the courtyard.”
Meb let Neve lead her down the flagged passages and up the stone stairwell, onto the battlements and up the stair to the door of the mage’s tower. It faced the narrow causeway of land that linked the almost island of Dun Tagoll to the rest of the lands beyond. Meb looked out at those, across fields and forests toward the distant high fells tinged purple with blooming heather.
The door swung open abruptly, before she’d even gathered herself to knock. Neve squeaked and retreated behind Meb as Mage Aberinn loomed out at them. His beard, in daylight, was longer and less clean than she’d realized the night before. “I didn’t know I had sent for two of you,” he said curtly.
Meb knew she ought to be afraid, but instead, his manner just made her angry. “My mother told me not to go alone into strange towers with men I did not know,” she said coolly. Actually, Hallgerd had not ever quite said that, but variants of the same usually involving bushes, huts or fishing boats. And she hadn’t been too concerned about whether Meb knew the men or not. But it would do.
Aberinn raised his eyebrows. “Your mother. And who was your mother? Do you remember her?” he seemed to find that very important.
Meb remembered what Neve had said about not being able to lie to him. She thought…well, she should try it. “I ought to. I lived with her for seventeen years,” she said.
It seemed to take the wind out the mage’s sails a little. “Ah. Well, I suppose your reputation should be considered. Yes, bring her along.”
Neve looked as if she might faint in pure terror. “Me? I was just showing m’lady the way.” she squeaked.
“Just think what stories you’ll have to tell the others,” said Meb, smiling an unspoken “please” at her.
“Of course, she’ll do as she’s told,” said the mage, an edge coming back to his voice.
The fisherman’s daughter took a deep breath. “For you, m’lady.”
The first interior room of the tower, reached after climbing a short stair was rather a disappointment after all that. It was a large and comfortable room, with a fireplace, and a number of tables, and book- and equipment-filled shelves lining the walls. It was, unlike the magician’s beard, very tidy and ordered. No spider webs, no dust, no disorder. The tables were full of various items being worked on, but even the tools were set out
She stood up, and Neve held the mirror. She wasn’t sure she recognized the stranger in it. “Well. That will just have to do. What do we have for footwear, because I don’t think my water diviner’s boots will do, will they? They’re the best boots I’ve ever owned.”
Neve looked at them, critically. “They’re good boots. But, well, they look like, well…men’s wear. Lady Vivien—she sent the clothes and the combs with me, sent some lachet boots for you. They’re good boots.”
Meb tried them. “They’ll do. But they’re too narrow. I have wide feet. Finn said it was from going barefoot. He had to get the cordwainer to change his lasts to make them for me.”
Neve looked impressed. “Specially made just for you? This Finn, he was your father?”
“My master,” said Meb quietly. “I love him very much. But…”
Neve nodded understandingly, although Meb was absolutely sure she did not even start to understand. But Meb wasn’t going to try to explain. Instead she walked to the door. “Do you think I get to break my fast before going to see the mage? Or does he feed me on the bones of dead men?”
Neve shuddered. “I don’t know, m’lady. No one goes to his tower. I told you. I don’t know what is in there.”
Meb took a deep breath. “Time to find out, I suppose. Can you show me where I have to go?”
“Well, there’s an inner door, but it’s locked. I’ll have to take you into the courtyard.”
Meb let Neve lead her down the flagged passages and up the stone stairwell, onto the battlements and up the stair to the door of the mage’s tower. It faced the narrow causeway of land that linked the almost island of Dun Tagoll to the rest of the lands beyond. Meb looked out at those, across fields and forests toward the distant high fells tinged purple with blooming heather.
The door swung open abruptly, before she’d even gathered herself to knock. Neve squeaked and retreated behind Meb as Mage Aberinn loomed out at them. His beard, in daylight, was longer and less clean than she’d realized the night before. “I didn’t know I had sent for two of you,” he said curtly.
Meb knew she ought to be afraid, but instead, his manner just made her angry. “My mother told me not to go alone into strange towers with men I did not know,” she said coolly. Actually, Hallgerd had not ever quite said that, but variants of the same usually involving bushes, huts or fishing boats. And she hadn’t been too concerned about whether Meb knew the men or not. But it would do.
Aberinn raised his eyebrows. “Your mother. And who was your mother? Do you remember her?” he seemed to find that very important.
Meb remembered what Neve had said about not being able to lie to him. She thought…well, she should try it. “I ought to. I lived with her for seventeen years,” she said.
It seemed to take the wind out the mage’s sails a little. “Ah. Well, I suppose your reputation should be considered. Yes, bring her along.”
Neve looked as if she might faint in pure terror. “Me? I was just showing m’lady the way.” she squeaked.
“Just think what stories you’ll have to tell the others,” said Meb, smiling an unspoken “please” at her.
“Of course, she’ll do as she’s told,” said the mage, an edge coming back to his voice.
The fisherman’s daughter took a deep breath. “For you, m’lady.”
The first interior room of the tower, reached after climbing a short stair was rather a disappointment after all that. It was a large and comfortable room, with a fireplace, and a number of tables, and book- and equipment-filled shelves lining the walls. It was, unlike the magician’s beard, very tidy and ordered. No spider webs, no dust, no disorder. The tables were full of various items being worked on, but even the tools were set out
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