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I was barely into womanhood； but I felt very much a child。 The idea of even such a short journey outside the walls after dark frightened me； but my mother had asked； and to refuse a deathbed request was a sin long before Mother Church arrived to parcel up and name the rights and wrongs of life。 I left Ulca at my mother's side and hurried across the rainy； nightbound castle。
The woman Xanippa had once been a whore； but as she had bee older and fatter she had decided she needed another profession； and had developed a name as a herbwife。 Her tumbledown hut； which stood against the keep's southeast curtain wall； overlooking the Kingswood； was full of smoke and bad smells。 Xanippa had hair like a bird's nest； tied with what had once been a pretty ribbon。 Her face might have been round and ely once； but years and fat had turned it into something that looked as though it had been brought up in a fishing net。 She was also so large she did not move from her stool by the fire during the time I was there … or on most other occasions； I guessed。
Xanippa was very suspicious of me at first； but when she found out who I was and what I wanted； and saw my face as proof； she accepted the three small coins I gave her and gestured for me to fetch her splintered wooden chest from the fireplace corner。 Like its mistress； the chest had clearly once been in better condition and more prettily painted。 She set it on the curve of her belly and began to search through it with a painstaking care that seemed at odds with everything else about her。
'Ah； here；' she said at last。 'Dragon's claw。' She held out her hand to show me the curved； black thing。 It was certainly a claw； but far too small to belong to any dragon I could imagine。 Xanippa saw my hesitation。 'It is an owl's toe； you silly girl。 〃Dragon's claw〃 is just a name。' She pointed to a tiny ball of glass over the talon's tip。 'Do not pull that off or break it。 In fact； do not touch it at all。 Do you have a purse？'
I showed her the small bag that hung always on a cord around my neck。 Xanippa frowned。 'The cloth is very thin。' She found some rags in one of the pockets of her shapeless robe and wrapped the claw； then dropped it into my purse and tucked it back in my bodice。 As she did so； she squeezed my breast so hard that I murmured in pain； then patted my head。 'Merciful Rhiap；' she growled； 'was I ever so young as this？ In any case； be careful； my little sweetmeat。 This is heartsbane on the tip of this claw； from the marshes of the Wran。 If you are careless； this is one prick that will make sure you die a virgin。' She laughed。 'You don't want that； do you？'
I backed to the door。 Xanippa grinned to see my fright。 'And you had better give your stepfather a message from me。 He will not find what he seeks among the womenfolk here or among the herbwives of the Lake People。 Tell him he can believe me； because if I could solve his riddle； I would … and； oh； but I would make him pay dearly for it！ No； he will have to find the Witch of the Forest and put his questions to her。'
She was laughing again as I got the door open at last and escaped。 The rain was even stronger now； and I slipped and fell several times； but still ran all the way back to the Inner Bailey。
When I reached my mother's bed； the priest had already e and gone； as had my stepfather； who Ulca told me had never spoken a word。 My mother had died only a short time after I left on my errand。 I had failed her … had left her to suffer and die with no family beside her。 The shame and sorrow burned so badly that I could not imagine the pain would ever go away。 As the other women prepared her for burial； I could do nothing but weep。 The dragon's claw dangled next to my heart； all but forgotten。
I spent weeks wandering the castle； lost and miserable。 I only remembered the message Xanippa had given me when my mother had been dead and buried almost a month。
I found my stepfather on the wall overlooking the Kingslake； and told him what Xanippa had said。 He did not ask me how I came to be carrying messages for such a woman。 He did not even signify he had heard me。 His eyes were fixed on something in the far distance … on the boats of the fisher…folk； perhaps； dim in the fog。
The first years in the ruined High Keep were hard ones； and not just for my mother and me。 Lord Sulis had to oversee the rebuilding； a vast and endlessly plicated task； as well as keep up the spirits of his own people through the first bleak winter。
It is one thing for soldiers； in the initial flush of loyal indignity； to swear they will follow their wronged mander anywhere。 It is another thing entirely when that mander es to a halt； when following bees true exile。 As the Nabbanai troops came to understand that this cold backwater of Erkynland was to be their home for ever； problems began … drinking and fighting among the soldiers； and even more unhappy incidents between Sulis' men and the local people。。 。 my people； although it was hard for me to remember that sometimes。 After my mother died； I sometimes felt as if I were the true exile； surrounded by Nabbanai names and faces and speech even in the middle of my own land。
If we did not enjoy that first winter； we survived it； and continued as we had begun； a household of the dispossessed。 But if ever a man was born to endure that state； it was my stepfather。
When I see him now in my memory； when I picture again that great heavy brow and that stern face； I think of him as an island； standing by himself on the far side of dangerous waters； near but for ever unvisited。 I was too young and too shy to try to shout across the gulf that separated us； but it scarcely mattered … Sulis did not seem like a man who regretted his own solitude。 In the middle of a crowded room his eyes were always on the walls instead of the people； as though he could see through stone to some better place。 Even in his happiest and most festive moods； I seldom heard him laugh； and his swift； distracted smiles suggested that the jokes he liked best could never truly be explained to anyone else。
He was not a bad man； or even a difficult man； as my grandfather Godric had been； but when I saw the immense loyalty of his soldiers it was sometimes hard for me to understand it。 Tellarin said that when he had joined Avalles' pany； the others had told him of how Lord Sulis had once carried two of his wounded bondmen from the field； one trip for each； through a storm of Thrithings arrows。 If that is true； it is easy to understand why his men loved him； but there were few opportunities for such obvious sorts of bravery in the High Keep's echoing halls。
While I was still young； Sulis would pat me on the head when we met； or ask me questions that were meant to show a paternal interest； but which often betrayed an uncertainty as to how old I was and what I liked to do。 When I began to grow a womanish form； he became even more correct and formal； and would offer pliments on my clothes or my stitchery in the same studied way that he greeted the High Keep's tenants at Aedonmansa； when he called each man by his name … learned from the seneschal's accounting books … as he filed past； and wished each a good year。
Sulis grew even more distant in the year after my mother died； as though losing her had finally untethered him from the daily tasks he had always performed in such a stiff； practised way。 He spent less and less time seeing to the matters of government； and instead sat reading for hours … sometimes all through the night； wrapped in heavy robes against the midnight chill； burning candles faster than the rest of the house put together。
The books that had e with him from his family's great house in Nabban were mostly tomes of religious instruction； but also some military and other histories。 He occasionally allowed me to look at one； but although I was learning； I still read only slowly； and could make little of the odd names and devices in the accounts of battle。 Sulis had other books that he would never even let me glance at； plainbound volumes that he kept locked in wooden boxes。 The first time I ever saw one go back into its chest； I found the memory returning to me for days afterward。 What sort of books were they； I wondered； that must be kept sealed away？
One of the locked boxes contained his own writings； but I did not find that out for two more years； until the night of Black Fire was almost upon us。
It was in the season after my mother's death； on a day when I found him reading in the grey light that streamed into the throne room； that Lord Sulis truly looked at me for the one and only time I remember。
When I shyly asked what he was doing； he allowed me to examine the book in his lap； a beautiful illuminated history of the prophet Varris with the heron of Honsa Sulis worked in gilt on the binding。 I traced with my finger an illustration of Varris being martyred on the wheel。 'Poor； poor man；' I said。 'How he must have suffered。 And all because he stayed true to his God。 The Lord must have given him sweet wele to Heaven。' The picture of Varris in his agony jumped a little … I had startled my sttepfather into a flinch。 I looked up to find him gazing at me intently； his brown eyes so wide with feelings I could not recognize that for a moment I was terrified that he would strike me。 He lifted his huge； broad hand； but gently。 He touched my hair； then curled the hand into a fist； never once shifting that burning stare from me。 'They have taken everything from me； Breda！' His voice was tight…clenched with a pain I could not begin to understand。 'But I will never bend my back。 Never。'
I held my breath； uncertain and still a little frightened。 A moment later my stepfather recovered himself。 He brought his fist to his mouth and pretended to cough … he was the least able dissembler I have ever known … and then bade me let him finish his reading while the light still held。 To this day I do not know who he believed had taken everything from him … the Imperator and his court in Nabban？ The priests of Mother Church？ Or perhaps even God and His army of angels？
What I do know was that he tried to tell me of what burned inside him； but could not find the words。 What I also know is that at least for that moment； my heart ached for the man。
My Tellarin asked me once； 'How could it be possible that no other man has made you his own？ You are beautiful； and the daughter of a king。'
But as I have said before； Lord Sulis was not my father； nor was he king。 And the evidence of the mirror that had once been my mother's suggested that my soldier overspoke my eliness as well。 Where my mother had been fair and full of light； I was dark。 Where she was long of neck and limb and ample of hip； I was made small； like a young boy。 I have never taken up much space on the earth … nor will I below it； for that matter。 Wherever my grave is made； the digging will not shift much soil。
But Tellarin spoke with the words of love； and love is a kind of spell which banishes all sense。
'How can you care for a rough man like me？' he asked me。 'How can you love a man who can bring you no lands but the farm a soldier's pension can buy？ Who can give your children no title of nobility？'
Because love does not do sums； I should have told him。 Love makes choices； and then gives its all。
Had he seen himself as I first saw him； though； he could have had no questions。
It was an early spring day in my fifteenth year； and the sentries had seen the boats ing across the Kingslake at first light of morning。 These were no ordinary fishing…craft； but barges loaded with more than a dozen men and their warhorses。 Many of the castle folk had gathered to see the travellers e in and to learn their news。
After they had brought all their goods ashore on the lakefront； Tellarin and the rest of the pany mounted and rode up the hill path and in through the main gates。 The gates themselves had only lately been rebuilt … they were crude things of heavy； undressed timbers； but enough to serve in case of war。 My stepfather had reason to be cautious； as the delegation that arrived that day was t