‘My pleasure, princess.’
Ballistar climbed the steps and entered the cabin. An old iron kettle was hissing steam over the fire. Taking a cloth to protect his hands, he lifted it clear. In the back room he found the packs of dried herbs he and Sigarni had gathered in the spring. Mixing them by eye, he added hot water and cut a large portion of crystallized honey, which he dropped into the mixture. He stirred the tea with a long wooden spoon and sat quietly while it brewed. How to tackle Sigarni? How to convince the silver-haired huntress to meet the boy?
After several minutes he filled two large pottery cups with tea and carried them out into the afternoon sunlight. Sigarni took the first and sipped it. ‘How do you make it taste like this?’ she asked.
‘Talent,’ he assured her. ‘Now, are you going to ask me why I have walked all this way?’
‘I assume it was because you felt in need of my company.’
‘Under normal circumstances that would be true, princess. But not today. I have a favour to ask.’
‘Ask it – and I’ll consider it,’ she said.
‘I was hoping for a little more than that,’ he admitted.
‘Just ask,’ she said, a little coldly.
‘I saw Bernt today . ..’
‘The answer is no,’ she said flatly.
‘You don’t know the question yet?’
‘I can hazard a guess. He wants me to take him back.’
‘No! Well.. . yes. But that is not the favour. He asks if you will meet him after dusk at the old oak grove. Even if it is only to say goodbye. He said it was vital to him.’
‘I have already said goodbye.’ Returning her attention to the leather jesses, she said nothing more.
Ballistar sighed. ‘He also said that he had never asked you for anything – save this once.’
She looked up and he braced himself for her anger. But her words were spoken coldly, and without emotion. ‘I owe him nothing. I owe
you nothing. I owe no one. You understand? I did not ask him to love me, nor to follow me like a dog. He was an adequate lover, no more than that. And now he is part of my past. He has no place in the present. Is that clear?’
‘Oh, it is clear, princess. Callous, unkind, unfeeling. But very dear. And of course it would be so time-consuming for you to walk to the oak grove. After all, it is more than a mile from here.”
She leaned back and looked into his face. ‘Now we are both angry, little man. And for what? Bernt is a dolt. I have no need of fools around me. But, since it is a favour to you, I shall grant it. I shall go to Bernt, and I shall tell him goodbye. Does that satisfy you?’
He grinned and nodded. ‘And as a reward I shall prepare you a meal. What provisions do you have?’
‘Abby killed a duck this morning.’
‘I shall cook it with a berry sauce,’ he said.
They ate well, the duck being young and plump. Ballister cooked it to perfection; the skin was crisp and dark, the flesh moist, the red berry sauce complementing the flavour. Sigarni pushed aside her plate and licked her fingers. ‘If I had an ounce of common sense I’d marry you,’ she told the dwarf. ‘I never knew a man who could make food taste so fine.’
Ballistar was sitting in the hide chair, his little legs jutting out. He nodded sagely. ‘Well,’ he said, at last, ‘you could ask me. But I would only say no.’
Sigarni smiled. ‘Not good enough for you, dwarf?’ ‘Too good, probably. Though that is not the reason. There is something about you, Sigarni. Like the Crown of Alwen – all men can see it, but none can touch it.’
‘Nonsense. Men can touch me. I like men to touch me.’ ‘No, you don’t,’ he argued. ‘I don’t think you have ever allowed a man to touch your heart. No man has ever opened the window of your soul.’
She laughed at him then. ‘The heart is a pump for moving blood around the body, and as to the soul… what is that exactly?’ She held up her hand. ‘No, don’t try to explain it. Let it lie. The meal was too fine to finish on an argument. And you had better go, or you’ll be walking back in the dark.’