She looked up, startled at his entrance, her green eyes wide. Bernarr knelt at her side, taking her hand in his and kissing it.
In his dream he could still feel the fragile fingers, the soft skin, still see the pulse beating in her neck as she lay pale against the white pillows and cushions.
Tears gathered in her eyes, yet her expression was not joyous. They spoke in broken sentences, and he remembered nothing of what they said, save that when he left her chamber, she was quietly weeping.
The guests observed the obligatory feigned joy at the news of her condition, used it as an excuse to organize a feast, and drank a large portion of the baronial wine cellar.
But soon they were forced to leave. By ship to Krondor, then overland to Salador and on to Rillanon was a trip of more than a month. Once the Straits of Darkness were in the grip of winter storms, the only passage was around the southern tip of Great Kesh, a travel of three months beset with storms, pirates and Keshian raiders. When it became clear the Baron would not invite them to spend the winter in Land’s End, they bid their host and hostess a polite farewell, and departed.
The Baron twisted in the damp sheets, his eyes fluttering as he moaned. The storm . . .
On the night on which the Baroness Elaine went into labour a storm sprang up out of the sea; hills and walls of purple-black cloud piled along the western horizon, flickering with lightning but touched gold by the sun as it set behind them. The surge came before the storm: mountain-high waves that set fishermen dragging their craft higher and lashing them to trees and boulders; then to praying as the thrust of air came shrieking about their thatch. When the rain followed it came in nearly horizontal, blown before the monster winds.
Whips of rain lashed the manor, too. Lightning forked the sky and thunder rattled the windows. Bernarr had bribed the midwife to stay at the manse for the last two weeks and now he was very glad he’d done so.
As he got ready to dine, a servant announced a traveller and his servants at the gate, begging shelter. This Bernarr granted gladly—hospitality brought luck, and at this moment he wanted his full share. The house was so still these days he would also welcome the company and he was delighted to discover that his guest was a scholar who cared far more for the books in his coach than for either his horses, his servants or himself.
He was a tall, imposing man, with large eyes and a penetrating gaze, a few years older than Bernarr. His name was Lyman Malachy.
‘Yes,’ said Malachy, ‘when I heard of the sudden death of your father, I began my journey from a great distance. With many distractions and delays behind me, I arrive tonight.’ He shook his sleeve as if to dispatch the remaining drops of rainwater on the cuff. ‘I had exchanged missives with your father, but I had no knowledge of his heirs. I feared you wouldn’t know what you had in his books and might sell them to someone else before I could possibly make an offer.’
The Baron smiled and shook his head. He was about to speak when he noticed that Lyman’s eyes had gone distant, which surprised him. Up until this moment the little fellow had been an excellent and most attentive guest. But almost immediately Lyman’s eyes cleared and he looked gravely at the Baron.
‘A child will be born in this house tonight,’ he said. ‘A boy.’
‘How could you know that?’ Bernarr asked in wonder. ‘The Baroness is with child, but she isn’t due so soon.’
Lyman smiled tersely. ‘I would not trust everyone with this knowledge,’ he said. ‘But, as you are an educated man, beyond crude peasant superstition, and so generous a host, I will confess. I am a magician.’
‘Ah,’ was all Bernarr said. But he wondered what to do. He’d taken an instant liking to his mysterious guest, and like most citizens of the Kingdom he had his doubts about those who dabbled in magic; yet he felt a curious kinship with Malachy. He chose to be delicate; after all, the man would be gone in the morning. ‘That must cause you some . . . difficulty.’
‘It has at times,’ Lyman admitted. ‘There is prejudice against those of us who follow the art, who have the gift . . . But fortunately for me my family was well off and I was sent far from home to study. As a result, no one who knew me as a child knows of my talents, and as my parents left me with a handsome legacy, I am able to support myself quite comfortably. Which means I can afford to buy books!’
They both grinned at that. Then came a sharp rap on the door.
‘Come,’ Bernarr called.
A servant appeared, his face drawn and his eyes wide. ‘My lord! The Lady Elaine’s time has come!’
Bernarr rose to his feet, his heart leaping to his throat. As he passed his guest, he saw a small smile raise the corner of the magician’s mouth.
Images sped by.
The midwife standing by the door, a worried expression on her face. ‘The baby is coming . . .’ and then her words faded.