A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [100]
“I don’t know. None of us can know what would happen then.”
“I’m growing very tired of you telling me that there are all these things you don’t know.”
“But I don’t know them. The only one who can find those answers is you.”
They were walking among roses, with the sprite, tiny again, skipping ahead. All at once the little creature threw back her head and sniffed the air like a hunting dog. For the briefest of moments she froze, then darted into the air, swooped round them in joy, and disappeared.
“Something’s made her happy,” Dallandra remarked.
“Maybe her bard’s been reborn.”
“Oh no, it’s much too soon! Although, I don’t know about the Round-ears. It might be different for them.”
The lands of the court shifted and gleamed around them in a burst of moonlight, and now and again music drifted in warm air.
“Oh, lovely—the moon’s rising,” Dallandra said. “It’s so hard to believe that I’ve been here seven whole days.”
All at once, just from saying the words aloud, their import pierced her mind. How could it have been seven days, only seven short days, when enough time had passed for Nevyn to travel to the elven lands and leave them again, for Maddyn the bard to appear, then die, and now, maybe—no, it was quite likely, really—be reborn again. Dallandra shrieked aloud and felt the cry tear out of her as if by its own will.
“Elessario! You’ve lied to me! You’ve tricked me!”
“What?” She spun around to stare, then suddenly burst into tears. “Never! Dalla, what do you mean?”
“How long have I been here?”
Elessario could only stare while tears ran down her cheeks. Dallandra realized that she would have no way of understanding such things as the passing of time.
“Take me to your father. Where’s your father?”
“Here.” In full court garb, draped in a cloak of silvery blue and wearing a golden fillet round his yellow hair, he came strolling up to them. “I’m the trickster, Dalla, not my poor little daughter. Time runs different here in our country.”
“You never told me.”
“You never would have come.”
“If you had gods, I’d curse you by them.”
“No doubt. You know, I’m rather sorry I lied. What an odd sensation.”
“Let me go home.”
“Of course. That was our bargain, wasn’t it? Home you shall go, and right now.”
“No!” Elessario howled. “Please don’t go, Dalla.”
“I’m sorry, child, but I have to. You can come visit me in my own country, like you used to do before.”
“I want to go with you now. Please, let me come with you and live with you.”
Suddenly the air grew cold, and the moon slipped behind dark clouds. In the murky light torches gleamed on armor and sword; shields clashed, men swore, banners snapped and fluttered as an army rushed toward them, Alshandra riding hard at their head. With a frown of mild disgust, Evandar threw up one hand and snapped his fingers. All the charging soldiers turned into mist and blew away. Stamping one foot, Alshandra stood before them.
“Dallandra will never leave. She’s turned my daughter against me, and I shall have her in return. It’s the law and it’s fair and she’s my prize.”
“I made her man a promise,” Evandar said. “And I shall keep it.”
“You made the promise, Evandar Yellow-hair, not me. She shan’t leave. If our daughter is going away because of her, she’s staying to be my prize in return.”
Dallandra found herself clutching the amethyst figurine at her throat, as if to keep it safe. Alshandra howled with laughter.
“You don’t know the way home, do you, girl? You don’t know which road leads home.”
They stood on the misty green plain, looking into the setting sun. On their right hand rose the dark hills, twisted and low; on their left towered the high mountains, their white peaks shining in the last of the light. Before them stretched not one road but a tangle, all leading off into mist as dark as night.
“You could wander a long time here,” Alshandra said. “Maybe luck would take