She savored the good odor from within. Of all herbs grown this was the greatest defense against the powers of dark—angelica, herb of the sun in Leo, talisman against poison and evil magic. Ysmay stretched forth her wrist to expose the serpent. Taking a pinch of the precious herb she rubbed it along the brown-red thread of body.
But the circle remained solid, as it might have been if wrought in this form from the beginning. She rubbed it well and then drew out the amulet of Gunnora. For She who was the protector of life would stand against all things of the Shadow. And to the serpent she touched that talisman. Word by word she repeated the charm.
Life is breath, life is blood.
By the seed and by the leaf,
By the springtime with its flood.
May this power bring relief!
She might as well be dealing with any ordinary bracelet. Yet she had witnessed the transformation and knew differently.
Cut it, break it! Even as Ysmay looked about for the means of doing either she saw the fire. Fire! Amber would melt at the touch of fire. She felt now she could endure burns on her flesh rather than carry this band.
But she found she could not reach for a brand. Instead she huddled in the chair, staring at the serpent. Its yellow eyes turned upon her. Larger those eyes grew until at last they merged into one circle of light, and it was as if she looked through a window.
Among shadows and pools of light, she caught glimpses of tables piled with strange bottles, loops of metal, bowls—the sullen glare of a furnace was in evidence. Then she was looking into another chamber cut by pillars.
The contents startled and frightened her. For even as the winged thing had been enclosed in Hylle’s cylinder, here other shapes were enclosed, save these were much larger.
Some were so grotesque she gasped, but these were swiftly passed. Ysmay was drawn to the center of the chamber where stood two pillars apart from the others.
In one, the nearer, was a man. His face might be Hylle’s save for a subtle difference, as if they were akin in blood but not in spirit. This was less the Hylle of Quayth than the Hylle she had seen at the fair. Looking upon him Ysmay felt again that strange excitement which had first moved her. Also it seemed that his staring eyes sought hers in turn.
But Ysmay no longer faced the man in amber. Now she was drawn to the other pillar and it held a woman.
Her dark hair was dressed high and held in a net of gold. The net was studded with flowers carved of butter amber. She also wore a circlet of dark amber in the form of a serpent. Her robe was silken and amber in color and about her throat was a necklace of nuts, each encased in clear amber. These glowed, seeming to blaze higher when Ysmay looked upon them.
The woman’s eyes were open like the man’s. While there was no sign of life about her features, those eyes reached Ysmay with appeal so strong it was as if she shouted aloud for aid.
Ysmay felt a whirling of the senses. Images formed in her head and were diffused before she could understand. Only that terrible need, that cry for help, remained. And in that moment she knew that she could not refuse to answer—though what the woman and man wanted from her she could not tell. A picture in her mind, imposed over the pillars as if a veil arose, was the courtyard of Quayth as she could see it from her tower. And what she faced now was the angled tower of Hylle’s forbidden domain. She was certain that this chamber of the image lay within its walls.
Then that picture shriveled and was gone. The pillar chamber, too, disappeared. She was blinking at the fire on the hearth.
“Lady—” Ninque’s soft voice broke the quiet.
Ysmay hurriedly dragged her sleeve over the serpent, hid Gunnora’s amulet in a swiftly closed hand. But nothing could conceal the scent of the angelica.
“What is it, Ninque? I have thought to order my herbs and see if I have the making for a Midwinter Eve cup.”
The woman’s thick nostrils had widened, testing the air.
“Lord Hylle would speak with you, Lady.”
“Then let him do so.” As the woman turned her broad back, Ysmay slipped the cord of the amulet back over her head, hiding the talisman. Then she resealed the packet of angelica.
“My lord?” she looked up as Hylle came with his almost silent tread. Even if one could not hear his footfall on the fur mats of the room, one could sense his coming. He was like an invisible force disturbing the air. “It is Midwinter Eve, yet I have heard nothing of any feast.” She must play the innocent wrapped in the customs of the life she had left behind.
But she found herself searching his features intently. How much was he like that other? If memory did not deceive her the subtle difference had deepened. Had Hylle of the fair worn a mask now laid aside in Quayth?
“Midwinter Eve,” he repeated as if the words were in some foreign tongue. “Oh—a feast of your people. Yes, I am sorry, my lady, but you must keep it alone this year. An urgent message has come to have me ride out. Nor may I return before the morrow’s morn.” Then he was sniffing the air. “What have you here, my lady? The scent is new to me.”
She gestured to the open chest. “Herbs. I have some small skill in their growing and usage, my lord. Now I check my store against the need for savor or scent. But—” she went to place the packet with the others— “since we shall have no feast, I need not concern myself with such.”
“I am truly rebuked, my lady, that I have been so apart from you since our homecoming—and that I have not taken heed of the passing of time nor the fact that this feast was near. Forgive me this time and I shall not err again.”
Instinct told her that these were merely words and that his feeling for her was such that he believed vague promises would always satisfy her as they might a child.
He went after several more meaningless words of courtesy and she watched from the window as he rode with his men-at-arms. Ninque came in shortly with a bronze bowl. In it was a necklace of many pendants. Their design alternated greenish and bluish amber. She guessed that the piece was a rarity, perhaps worth all the portable goods in the Uppsdale Hold.
Ysmay put the necklace on before a mirror. She simulated pleasure, calling Ninque and the two wenches who came with her supper to see how fine a gift her lord had sent her. She hoped her acting was good enough to deceive Ninque.
She had fastened her sleeve bands tightly at the wrist and there was no chance of the woman spying what she wore there. When Ysmay sat down to eat she filled a horn cup and half raised it to her lips. Then she shook her head.
“I do not speak ill of your brewing,” she said lightly. “But were mint added this would be a better drink. Have you ever drunk it so?”
“We know not much of southern herbs in these parts, lady. Our Quayth is in the path of too chill winds to let such grow. Mint I have heard of, but of its use so, that I have not.”
“Then you shall taste and tell me whether or no you think I speak the truth. This is a feast eve among my people, Ninque. Since my lord cannot keep it with me, perhaps you will—”
For a moment the woman hesitated. Between her lips the tip of a pale tongue showed for an instant. Then her eyes, those ever-watchful eyes, went to the pitcher on the table.
“There is not enough for a second cup, my lady. You have ever refused more than one, so the wench did not bring it.”
“Then have one of them fetch more, Ninque. Do not deny me even this poor revel on a feast eve.”
Ninque turned to the stair reluctantly as one who had no excuse for doing otherwise, but would refuse if she could. Ysmay raised her horn again. She could detect in it only the odor of a good brew. But she was as sure as if someone stood at her shoulder speaking a warning, that there was something more in it. Poison? No, that she did not credit. But there were growing things which could be used in cunning ways, to bring deep sleep, to haze the wits so that memory would after play one false.