Free The Bone Queen by Alison Croggon Page B

at another level, deep inside, he wasn’t surprised at all: it was almost as if, once he saw Dernhil walking up the path to his house, he had realized that part of him had been waiting for him.
    Cadvan stayed where he was on the porch until Dernhil returned an hour or so later. Then, to the disappointment of the children who were spying on them from the bushes, the two Bards went inside and closed the door, shutting out the night.
    “So,” said Cadvan, handing Dernhil a mug of cider. “I can’t imagine that you just happened to be passing through Jouan. No one just passes through Jouan.”
    “No, I’m not,” Dernhil said. He looked up and met Cadvan’s eye squarely for the first time. “I was looking for you.”
    “I can’t think why,” said Cadvan. “Surely you would rather forget that I existed.”
    “I imagine you feel the same about me,” said Dernhil. Cadvan flushed slightly, and there was an uncomfortable pause. “Nelac suggested I look for you. He would have come himself, but he has duties in Lirigon he was loath to leave.”
    “It can’t have been easy to find me.”
    “It wasn’t easy,” said Dernhil. “I’ve been searching since winter, and the merest chance led me here.”
    “Surely the Bards in their wisdom haven’t decided to reverse my banishment,” said Cadvan, with an attempt at an ironic smile.
    “No,” said Dernhil. “The exile was confirmed last winter. Nelac argued against it, as did some others, but…” He trailed off.
    Cadvan swallowed, and turned away to hide his face. While he had been waiting for Dernhil to return from the inn, he had allowed himself to hope that perhaps, after all, he might be able to return to Barding. He could think of no other reason for a Bard, especially this Bard, to track him down. He should have known better. Somehow, hearing the confirmation of his exile was worse than the first judgement: his sentence was now final.
    “It’s no more than I expected,” he said harshly. “And no more than I deserve.”
    “It wasn’t … unexpected,” said Dernhil. “For my part, I don’t believe it a wholly unjust decision.”
    The two men looked at each other with barely concealed hostility.
    “So you’ve come to enjoy my punishment, then?” said Cadvan. “I had thought better of Dernhil of Gent. Although I allow it’s excusable, given what I did to you.”
    Dernhil flinched, but said nothing.
    “There must be pleasure indeed in seeing my humble circumstances,” said Cadvan, looking around his kitchen. “A neat moral indeed, to take back to the Schools: the vanity of Cadvan of Lirigon, contained in a hovel, reduced to nailing up the boots of miners. I’m sure your students will benefit from such an illustration.”
    “That is unjust,” Dernhil said tightly. “And foolish. I had expected better of Cadvan of Lirigon.”
    “I’m no longer Cadvan of Lirigon, if you recall. I’m surprised you had any expectations.”
    Cadvan stood up and walked to the door, opening it so the night air flowed into the room. He drew a deep breath, trying to calm the rage that flared inside him. He knew he had no right to be angry, but that made no difference. How dare Dernhil sit in his kitchen with that superior air, too polite to comment on Cadvan’s poor furniture and shabby clothes? It was probably all he could do not to sneer. How dare he remind Cadvan of everything he had thrown away? Of the life that was now closed to him for ever?
    Dernhil spoke from behind him, his voice unsteady. “I have reason to come here, reason to find you. I didn’t expect it to be easy, and I like it as little as you do.”
    “Then why did you bother?” Cadvan turned, and Dernhil saw, his heart sinking, that he wasn’t trying now to conceal his dislike.
    “Ceredin told me to find you.”
    At the mention of Ceredin, Cadvan turned white. “You dare – you dare to say…”
    “You owe me at least to listen to what I have to say. I don’t have the desire or the will to