The Spirit Stone. Katharine Kerr
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Adranna sighed, leaning back in her chair, her face so uncharacteristically thin and drawn, pale against her dark hair, that Branna nearly wept from looking at her.
‘You’re exhausted, cousin,’ Branna said. ‘There’s no need to go on talking now.’
‘My thanks.’ Adranna managed a faint smile. ‘We’ll have lots of time to talk while the men are gone to war. That’s one good thing to come out of this, I suppose.’
‘So we will, truly.’
‘There’s another good thing,’ Adranna continued. ‘You know, the worst thing about living with Honelg was being terrified. Not of him, so much, though he did have that awful temper, but because of Alshandra. I was always afraid that someone would find us out and tell the priests or the gwerbret. I got so tired of being frightened. Every time someone rode up to the dun, I’d tremble until I found out who it was. I really would, Branni. I couldn’t hold a cup of water steady for the trembling. Now the worst has happened and been done with, and the children are safe. I don’t much care what happens to me any more, but I prayed and prayed that my children would be safe. So, at least the fear’s over now.’
Branna just managed to stop herself from blurting out the truth: the real time of fear had just begun.
Whenever Arzosah wanted to speak with Salamander, she would wait till evening, when the grooms had stabled the horses, safe from the panic her presence would cause. Normally she would fly low over the dun until he noticed, then go land in the meadow just below the motte upon which the dun stood. That particular evening, however, she landed directly on the flat roof of the broch. Salamander, who was up in his top-floor chamber, felt the tower shake as if in a high wind. Out in the ward several maidservants screamed.
‘That must be the dragon,’ he remarked aloud. ‘I’d best go see what she wants.’
He climbed the ladder standing in the corridor outside and shoved open the trap door. In the hot, humid night, the vinegar scent of great wyrm nearly made him choke. He swung himself onto the roof from the ladder’s last rung, then stood up to bow to her. He could see her raise her enormous head in silhouette against the stars.
‘And a good eve to you, oh perfect paragon of dragonhood,’ Salamander said in Elvish.
‘My, you do know how to flatter a lady.’ Arzosah made the rumbling sound that signalled amusement. ‘Even minstrels have their uses, I see.’
‘And such as my poor skills are, they’re at your disposal.’
‘Good. I need to know if the dun will be safe if I leave. I have to search for Rori. He was supposed to meet me here, and he’s never arrived.’
‘That’s true. He hasn’t. I hope no harm’s befallen him.’
‘I doubt that very much, since only another dragon could possibly harm him. No, I’m sure he’s merely being an utter dolt about facing you and Dallandra.’
‘Can’t Dalla summon him?’
‘No, and all because he’s not a true dragon in his soul. When she calls out his true name, he can feel the summons in the dragonish way, but it lacks power over him. He’s been ignoring her.’ Arzosah clacked her massive jaws. ‘He can be infuriating.’
‘You have to understand,’ Salamander said, ‘that it’s a hard thing being caught between two peoples. I’ve spent my whole life that way, and I know.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Arzosah considered this for a moment. ‘I can see the difficulties Rori goes through. But the worst of them is that it makes so much trouble for me.’
‘A terrible thing, truly. Well, once you’ve found him, why don’t you join Dallandra out on the grasslands? I doubt if we’re in any danger here, not from armed enemies, at any rate.’
‘Good. I’ll do that.’ She started to spread her wings, then folded them back again. ‘You know, you’d best be off the roof before I fly. I’d hate to knock you off it.’
‘I’d hate it even more. Good hunting, and I’ll see you when we join up with Daralanteriel’s army.’
Salamander climbed partway down the ladder, then shut the trap door. Just as he reached the safety of the corridor below, he heard her fly off in a great rush of wings like drumbeats.
Since his chamber was stifling in the summer heat, Salamander decided to take a turn around the ward in the cooler air before he tried to sleep. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he discovered that half the dun was doing the same thing, noble-born as well as commoners. Bright points of lantern light danced around the dark ward and glittered here and there up on the catwalks. He could hear men’s cajoling voices, speaking softly, and the giggling of serving lasses in return.
Off to one side Gerran stood talking with Lady Solla. In the light of the lantern he carried, his copper-red hair gleamed like the metal itself. Neb and Branna were strolling along arm-in-arm with Adranna’s two children trailing after. A crowd of Wildfolk danced around them, led by Branna’s skinny grey gnome, and Neb’s fat yellow one. A gaggle of crystalline sprites flew above. When Salamander stopped to greet them, Trenni gave him a pleasant ‘good evening’, but Matto turned his head away and ostentatiously spit on the cobbles. The Wildfolk vanished.
‘Let’s go inside,’ Branna said firmly. ‘Trenni, you too. It’s time for bed.’
She grabbed a child by the arm with each hand and hurried them into the broch. Neb, however, lingered outside with Salamander. They wandered around the back of the broch and stood in a patch of candlelight falling through a window.
‘Do you think that Matto will ever forgive me?’ Salamander said. ‘I’m afraid I had a great deal to do with his father’s death.’
‘I’m not so sure it’s that,’ Neb said. ‘More like, he blames you for losing him his home and making his mother so unhappy. Honelg lost every bit of the lad’s loyalty when he tried to kill him. Trenni outright hated her father, and I think me our Matto’s coming round to her way of thinking.’
‘I see. That’s truly sad in its own way.’
‘It is. It came as a shock to me. And yet, it’s odd, but Matto still feels he should hate you and Gerran, too, for the killing of his father.’ Neb shook his head. ‘I doubt if I’ll ever truly understand the noble-born.
‘Me either. On the other hand, though my own father and I have our difficulties, if someone killed him, I’d feel the need to bring them to the prince’s justice at the very least.’
‘My father and I never had any difficulties. I miss him still, but half the people in our town died from that plague. I can’t consider myself singled out for grief or suchlike.’
‘Truly. A natural affliction knows neither feud nor honour.’
‘Of course, the local priests denied that it was any such thing. They told us that Great Bel was angry. They wanted us to find white horses for sacrifice.’
‘If it happens again, we know where to find white cows – or won’t cattle do?’
‘They won’t. Bel demands horses, but – here, wait!’ Neb held up one hand. ‘I just thought of somewhat. I –’ He hesitated, visibly thinking.
Salamander held his tongue. Neb’s expression of intense concentration had made him seem suddenly older, far stronger. More Nevyn-like, Salamander thought. I wonder if a memory’s trying to rise?
‘That plague,’ Neb said slowly. ‘What if it wasn’t Bel’s doing nor a natural thing? At the time, I didn’t know one cursed thing about the Westfolk and their history. I didn’t know about dark dweomer, either. But I do now, and I wonder if someone brought sickness to town, like. It happened so suddenly, and the weather was warm. There’d been a big market fair in town, and there were a goodly number of strangers come for it.’
‘I wonder, too. How