“Trust that which you wear, Lady—” For the first time the woman looked directly at her. The soft voice was very low, plainly meant for her alone.
And Ysmay found herself, against her will, listening.
Hylle came out of the shadows.
“Ninque seems to have a message for you, Lady. She is a true seeress, esteemed in Quayth.”
This was not Quayth, Ysmay thought. Seeress or no, I do not want to listen to her. Yet she sat on the stool Hylle produced, to find herself eye to eye with the woman.
“Your hand upon mine, Lady, so that I may read what lies there.”
Ysmay’s hand half moved to obey. Then she jerked back, her disgust for the woman overriding whatever spell the other cast. The woman showed no emotion, only her eyes continued to hold Ysmay’s.
“You have more than you believe, Lady. You are one for far faring and deeds beyond the women’s bowers. You—no, I cannot read clearly. There is that under your touch now—bring it forth!”
Her soft, insinuating voice was a bark of order. Before she thought Ysmay pulled at the cord, drawing out Gunnora’s amulet. And behind her she heard a hiss of indrawn breath.
“Amber.” Again the seeress’ voice was singsong. “Amber in your hand always, Lady. It is your fate and your fortune. Follow where it leads and you shall have your heart’s full desire.”
Ysmay stood up. She jerked from her belt purse a single copper coin and dropped it into those hands, forcing herself to give the conventional thanks for foreseeing, though the words choked her.
“A good fortune, Lady,” Hylle stepped between her and the woman. “That bit you wear—it is very old—”
She sensed he would like to examine it, but she had no intention of letting it out of her hands.
“It is Gunnora’s talisman. I had it from my mother.”
“A sign of power for any woman.” He nodded. “Oddly enough I do not have its like here. But let me show you a thing which is very rare—” He put two fingers to her hanging sleeve. And it was as if the world suddenly narrowed to the two of them alone.
He picked up a box of fragrant pinsal wood, slid off its lid. Within was a cylinder of amber, a small pillar of golden light. Caught within it for the centuries was a winged creature of rainbow beauty.
Ysmay had seen in her own amulet small seeds, which was meet for a talisman of Gunnora’s, the harvest goddess of fertile fields and fertile woman. But this piece was marked with no random pattern of seeds. It was as if the creature had been fixed by intelligent purpose.
So beautiful it was that she gasped. Hylle put it into the hands she had involuntarily stretched forth and she turned it around and around, studying it from all angles. Ysmay could not be sure whether the creature within was a small bird or a large insect, for it was new to her, perhaps something which had long gone from the living world.
“What is it?”
Hylle shook his head. “Who knows? Yet once it lived. One finds such in amber from time to time. Still this is unusual.”
“Sister—what have you?” Annet crowded in. “Ah, that is indeed a thing to look upon! Yet—one cannot wear it—”
Hylle smiled. “Just so. It is a wall ornament only.”
“Take it,” Ysmay held it out. “It is too precious to finger lightly.” At that moment she coveted the flying thing greatly.
“Precious, yes. But there are other things. Lady, Would you trade your amulet for this?”
He had stood the cylinder on the flattened palm of his hand, balanced it before her eyes to tempt her. But the moment of weakness was gone.
“No,” she replied evenly.
Hylle nodded. “And you are very right, Lady. There is a virtue in such amulets as yours.”
“What amulet, sister?” Annet crowded closer. “Where got you any amulet of price?”
“Gunnora’s charm which was my mother’s.” Reluctantly Ysmay opened her hand to show it.
“Amber! And Gunnora’s! But you are no wedded wife with a right to Gunnora’s protection!” Annet’s pretty face showed for an instant what really lay behind it. She was no whole friend, nor half friend, but really revealed herself as—unfriend.
“It was my mother’s and is mine.” Ysmay pushed the charm back under the edge of her bodice. Then she spoke to Hylle.
“For your courtesy in showing me this treasure, Master Trader, I give thanks.”
He bowed as if she were the favorite daughter of a High Lord. But she was already turning out of the booth, uncertain of where to go or what to do. She was sure that Annet would now work upon Gyrerd to take her only treasure from her.
Yet Annet, upon her return to their tent, said nothing of the amulet. Rather she was displaying with open joy a bracelet of butter amber, its bright yellow contrasting with clasp and hinge of bronze. That she had purchased it with her single piece of silver she took as a tribute to her bargaining skill. And Ysmay hoped she was now fully satisfied.
However, she steeled herself to be on guard when they met for their evening meal. Gyrerd admired the bracelet and Ysmay waited tensely for Annet to introduce the subject of the amulet. Instead it was her brother who at last brushed aside the continued exclamations of his wife and turned to Ysmay, eyeing her as if moved by curiosity.
“We may have had more than one stroke of luck from Hylle’s booth,” he began.
“The amber mine!” Annet broke in. “My dear lord, does he know of a way that it can be worked again?”
“He thinks so.”
“Ah, lucky, lucky day! Lucky chance that brought us to this fair!”
“Perhaps lucky, perhaps not so.” He kept a sober face. “The mine, if it still holds aught, is not sealed to the Hold.”
Annet’s face grew sharp. “How so?” she demanded.
“It was settled upon Ysmay for a marriage portion.”
“What fool—” Annet shrilled.
For the first tune Gyrerd turned a frowning face upon her. “It was sealed to my mother. There were still hopes then that it might be worked and my father wished her secure against want. The dowry she brought rebuilt the north tower for the protection of the Dale. When she died, it was sealed to Ysmay.”
“But the Dale is war-poor, it is now needed for the good of all!”
“True. But there is a way all may be satisfied. I have had talk with this Hylle. He is no common merchant, not only because of his wealth, but because he is lord in Quayth, of blood not unequal to our own. For some reason he has taken a fancy to Ysmay. If we betroth her to him, he will return half the amount of any amber he takes from the mine, using his own methods to open it again. See, girl?” He nodded to Ysmay. “You will get you a lord with greater riches than most hereabouts can claim, a hold where you carry the keys, and a full life for a woman. This is such a chance as you shall not find twice.”
She knew that was true. And yet—what did she know of Hylle, save that he held her thoughts as no other man had done? What did she know of his northern hold? Where would he lead if she gave her consent? On the other side of the shield was the knowledge that, if she refused, Annet would surely make life a torment, nor would Gyrerd be pleased with her.
Looking from right to left, then right again, she thought she had little choice.
Quayth could not offer her worse than Uppsdale, were she to say yes. And there was hope it would offer better. After all, most marriages in the Dales were made so, between strangers. Few girls knew the men they went to bed with on their marriage night.
“I shall agree, if matters are as he has told you,” she said slowly.
“Dear sister.” Annet beamed on her. “What joy! You shall have better faring than this dame of Marchpoint buys to dress her cow-faced daughter! And such a wedding feast as all the Dales shall remember! My lord,” she said to Gyrerd, “give you free-handed that your sister may go to her bridal as becomes one of high name.”
“First we shall have the betrothal,” he said, but in his voice also was an eager note. “Ah, sister, perhaps you have brought the best of fortune to Uppsdale!”
But Ysmay wondered. Perhaps she had been too quick to give her word. And now there was no drawing back.
3
ALL THE LAMPS in the great hall were alight, for it was close to winter and shadows were thick. But Gyrerd did not scant on his sister’s wedding feast, as not only the lamps but the food on the table testified.