Death & Magic (The Barefoot Healer, volume I)

Death & Magic chapter 21

For a moment, he seemed not to have heard her, and then he snapped his attention back to her. “Sorry. I was just trying to work out who that is.” He pointed to the right-hand side of the tapestry.

Curious, Adramal turned to look. It was about six feet wide by four high, and hung so that the bottom was level with her head. Like most of the others she’d seen at Kyturil, it was threadbare and dark with age. It showed a group of four people on the left, two standing behind the other two. Behind the group was a castle. In the middle were four cloaked men on horses. Behind them was a tall, solitary tower, its top surrounded by storm clouds and lightning. At the right were a woman in a green dress and a man in brown, standing among a grove of trees.

“And why does it matter who this person is?” said Adramal.

“Don’t you know this picture?” He looked at her as if she hadn’t recognised the sun.

“No. Should I?” Best not to tell him that she had never seen a tapestry before coming to Kyer Altamar.

“It’s The Death of Zorian,” he said.

“Oh! I see. I know the story, of course, I just... I didn’t think anyone would bother to make a picture of it.”

“There was a time when every Great House and Lesser House would have had one of these in their dining room,” said Perinar.

“So who’s who?” she said. “I suppose the horsemen must be Kerevash and his assistants.”

“Yes. I think he’s Kerevash. Or maybe him.” Kerevash wore black armour, while his assistants wore grey, but the age of the tapestry made it hard to tell which was which. “The group on the left must be Talfaro and Ashuri and their parents — you see the crowns?”

She noticed now that the two people standing at the front of the group of four had gold bands across their foreheads. She had imagined a crown as something much bigger and more impractical, like the tall hats that the teachers wore on formal occasions.

“Now he must be Darikel,” said Perinar, pointing to the man among the trees, “but why isn’t he with them?” He pointed to the group on the left. “And I couldn’t figure out who the woman standing next to him is. Any ideas?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know the story all that well. It’s a... a children’s tale where I come from.” The people stared out of the tapestry, looking directly at the viewer, something Adramal found oddly disconcerting.

“She looks as though she’s smiling,” he said.

“Really?” Their faces were expressionless, almost indistinguishable from one another, and yet they seemed weighed down by grief. Perhaps that was how she expected them to look, because the story was of victory won at a heavy price.

“It’s as if she knows something that the rest of them don’t,” said Perinar.

From the doorway, someone cleared his throat loudly. Adramal turned to see the servant standing there, evidently expecting them to get back to work. She and Perinar moved the rest of the chairs and started cleaning under the table.

They finished a few minutes before the bell rang for fifth lesson. They returned their mops and buckets to the servant, who inspected their work and pronounced it satisfactory. Adramal hurried off to her lesson with Degoran.

The teacher hadn’t arrived when she got to the classroom. Grenur swaggered in a minute after Adramal, looking very pleased with himself. His face showed no sign of injury. “Learning to control your temper, farm girl?”

She said nothing, and did her best to keep her expression neutral.

“Did you enjoy cleaning the Great Hall? If you’re still feeling homesick, I could arrange for you to spend a few hours mucking out the stables.” He tilted his head to one side. “No? Would the latrines be more to your liking? They’re always especially rancid at this time of year.”