The Winter Prince (The Lion Hunters:01)(44)

Into the silence I said quietly, “I am the Magician.”

So I stood, unmoving, until the fire stick flickered out. Then Gofan said, “Oh, are you?”

I answered modestly, “Well, some know me as a doctor.”

A little breath of laughter rippled through the crowd, a relief.

“What ailments can you cure?” asked Caius, and Gofan added, “More than one or less than two?”

I made the answer.

“I can cure a thousand illnesses that are not there,



And heal a thousand wounds that never were.



I have been praised for miracles from here to Africa!”



Someone laughed.

“I have a bottle in my breast,



A liquor whose clear fire could turn



A glacier to a running stream.



One drop will save your stricken son.



“But first I’ll have my fee,” I added. “Ten silver coins.”

Caius asked of Gofan, “Have you any silver?” and Gofan retorted, “Only what can be scraped from the lead mines of the Pennines. There’s no ore her s;s e ye but copper.” The audience laughed again. Caius turned to me and reported, “He has no silver.”

“Then I’ll take copper.” The ritual payment was made. Caius said with flourish,

“Now try your skill, Magician.



Grant that new life may follow old



When your spell weaves through this hall,



To thrive despite the cold.”



I knelt and bent over Lleu, who lay smiling with eyes closed, waiting for the ritual words.

“Into your wounds the golden drops



I pour from out the healing cup—



He opened his eyes, and nearly choked at what he saw. I smiled down at him faintly, masked in black silk, my hand on his chest heavy with the gold I wore. I finished the verse:

“As death came to the Winter Prince,



So may the Lord of Spring rise up,”



and held my hand to him. He took it defiantly, ghost white, but smiling nonetheless. When the watchers applauded the mock miracle, Lleu turned a handspring and accidentally shed the rhymer’s wreath in a shower of red berries and white blossoms. Marcus laughed and handed back to Lleu his own circlet. We chanted the final lines of the pageant:

“Our rhyming is come to a close;



We mean to play no longer here.



May fortune fold this hearth and hold:



So welcome the New Year!”



Lleu did not speak to me again during the celebration that followed. He outdid himself dancing, and even managed to emerge triumphant from a spontaneous wrestling match that developed in a corner of the hall among a few of the boys and young men. He would not look at me, and in the wild throng of dancers and feasters it was simple enough for him to avoid me. But afterward, before I came to you, I found him sitting on the warm floor of the atrium near the brazier, playing with one of the cats.

The gold band he had worn earlier lay at his side, discarded. The low fire shimmered in the cat’s eyes and on a few silver threads in Lleu’s sleeves and at his throat; he sat alone, head down, very quiet.

“Good night, Prince,” I said, for I could not pass by without acknowledging him.

“Medraut!” He let go of the cat, but it did not leave him: it sat next to him on its haunches, rubbing its head against his elbow.

“My lord?” I said, passionless, pausing to wait for his word.

“Medraut, I’m sorry.” He ran a hand down the cat’s back and then traced the edge of the circlet with his finger, not looking at me. “I mean; for behaving so badly.”

“Thank you,” I said. I drew a sharp breath and said quietly, harshly, “But, my lord, your apology can do nothing to reverse what you said before your cousins this evening.”

“Medraut, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lleu pleaded. “Surely they know?”

“They know s01C#x2 now,” I said.

He rubbed his forehead and murmured, “I feel terrible.”

“Oh, little brother, don’t waste your time,” I whispered.

That silenced him. He gathered himself to stand up, the cat in one arm; he was only on one knee when he dropped it. Then he noticed the gold band on the floor, and bent to pick it up, but in the act of getting to his feet again he dropped that as well. It clattered tinnily on the tesserae, spinning round and around upon itself before it finally lay still. Lleu put an unsteady hand to his temple, as though confused, and again bent to retrieve the circlet. I took him by the shoulders and made him straighten. “Have you had too much to drink?” I asked.