A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [137]
“I see. Wait—did you say with us?”
“I thought I’d best come along. I’d like to bring Loddlaen, so you could see him, but it’s just too dangerous.”
“On that, at least, I couldn’t agree more. You know, there’s a thing going on here that I’d like you to take a look at, too. Do you remember Maddyn?”
Aderyn thought for a long moment.
“Oh, the bard! The one who had the silver ring with the roses on it.”
“Exactly. Well, he’s been reborn, and he’s here, and that wretched little blue sprite is still hanging around him. You know, I think she honestly loves him. I didn’t think the Wildfolk were capable of that.”
“No more did I.”
“And now Maer’s starting seeing her and all of her kin, for that matter. He came to me the other day, poor lad, quite troubled about it. I made a little speech, all pompous and vague, about the magical nature of borderlands in general and this one in particular, and I dropped a few harmless hints about the Westfolk. Blather, it was, but he was impressed and felt much better. I could hardly tell him that being around me was awakening his deepest memories of his last life.”
“If that’s all it is. The sprite may have somewhat to do with this, too. I’m on my way, then. We leave at dawn tomorrow, and since we have a pack train to contend with, it’ll probably take us a fortnight at the very least to reach Cannobaen.”
“Well and good. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
“And I, you. It’s been too long.”
On the day that the caravan arrived in Cannobaen, it poured rain, one of those quiet storms that without any pompous show of thunder and lightning settle in to soak everything. Since Maer had drawn stable duty that morning, he was out in the ward, wrapped in a greased cloak with the hood up, sweeping the stable leavings into a mound for the gardener. The rain had just finally found its way through the heavy wool to run down his back when he heard a clatter of hooves and a shout at the gates. Delighted with the distraction, he dropped his rake and trotted over just as Ganedd led his men and laden mules inside. Maer whooped in delight and yelled at the gardener to run and fetch his lordship.
“Maer!” Ganedd sang out. “Gladdens my heart and all that! We’ve done it, Maer! We’ve got bows and the men to teach us how to use them.”
Maer whooped again; he’d been rather looking forward to living longer than one winter more. All at once he realized that Wildfolk were swarming around the tiny caravan, and that he could see them all more clearly than ever before. Sylphs hung in the air, delighting in the rain; undines rose up out of puddles and grinned at him; sprites and gnomes thronged around the animals and sat on the saddles and mule packs; some of the bolder creatures were even perched on the shoulders of the men or rushed to greet them as they dismounted. Nevyn’s impressive remarks about the Westfolk and their affinities began to take on actual meaning.
“Come on!” Ganedd called. “Take our guests inside to meet Lord Pertyc. Here come the servants to tend the stock.”
With Ganedd in the lead they all dashed into the great hall, which was hot and smoky from the fires roaring in both hearths. Immediately everyone threw off their cloaks and dropped them into a wet and smelly heap for a serving lass to deal with later. Maer received his second shock of the day, because he’d never seen an elf before, never even knew that they existed, in fact. Cat-slit and enormous eyes of green and purple and indigo blue, hair as pale as moonlight, and the ears—try as he might, he couldn’t look away. Finally a tall fellow with violet eyes took offense.
“And just what are you staring at, you Round-ear dog?”
“Cal, hold your tongue!” As fast as any lord to break up a brawl, the eldest of the lot stepped in between them. “You can’t blame the lad for being surprised. He can’t be such a bad fellow, anyway, since he’s friends with the Wildfolk.”
Maer glanced down to see Little Blue-hair. She’d come up beside him and taken his hand in one of hers; now she leaned against his trouser leg and stared at