A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [152]
Rhodry considered, then shrugged. He wrapped his reins round his saddle peak, then loosened his belt and reached inside his shirt to pull out the whistle. In the graying twilight it glimmered an unnatural white.
“Now here,” Yraen snapped. “You can’t just give it back after all that’s happened. He should at least give us a price for it.”
“Well put, lad, and fair enough.” Evandar raised one hand, snapped his fingers, and plucked a leather bag out of midair. “Here’s a sack of silver, given to Dallandra by that lord, but she has no use or need of it in my country.” He tossed it to Yraen. “How’s that for a price?”
“Not enough. I’ll hand the silver back again in return for some answers.”
“Keep the silver, for answers you shall not have until you guess them. I pose riddles, and men must find the answers. I never solve a riddle for free, lad, and it’s unwise of you to keep asking.”
Maybe it was only the darkening light, or the cool spring wind ruffling his hair, but Yraen abruptly shuddered. When he glanced at Rhodry, he found the silver dagger grinning in his usual daft way, as if leaving this exchange to his apprentice.
“Very well, then,” Yraen said. “We’ll take the silver.”
When Rhodry flipped the whistle over, Evandar caught it in one hand and bowed from the saddle.
“I’ll give you somewhat more in return, then, as thanks for your graciousness. Which way are you riding?”
“North, I suppose, to Cerrgonney.” Yraen glanced at Rhodry, who nodded agreement. “There’s always work for a silver dagger to the north.”
“Or east.” Rhodry cleared his throat with a rasp. “The Auddglyn, maybe.”
“I can’t ride through Deverry to get there.”
“And Rhodry had best stay clear of Eldidd,” Evandar broke in. “Why the Auddglyn, Rhodry?”
“We need a smith, and I used to know one down in Dun Mannannan.”
“Otho the dwarf!” Evandar smiled suddenly and bowed again. “Did you know that he made that ring you wear? Ah, I didn’t think you did. Well, he’s gone from Dun Mannannan, but his apprentice took over his shop, and he’s a skilled man, for a human being. Follow me.”
When Evandar turned his horse and headed for the east-running road, Rhodry followed automatically. Yraen hesitated, knowing in some wordless way that dweomer hung all around him. At this crossroads he had reached the crux of his entire life. He could sit here and restrain his horse, let them ride off without him, and then return to his safe life in Dun Deverry. His clan would forgive him for their joy in having him back; he would put his one adventure into his memory like a jewel locked in a casket and take up again the ceremonial duties of a minor prince. Ahead neither Rhodry nor Evandar looked back, and as Yraen watched, he saw what seemed to be gray mist rising from the road, billowing up to hide them—or was it to hide him, to rescue him from the foolish choice he’d made when he left home?
“Hold! Rhodry, wait for me!”
Yraen kicked his horse hard and galloped into the mist. Ahead he could see the glimmer of the white horse and hear hooves, clopping on what seemed to be paving stones. All at once sunlight gleamed, and he saw Rhodry on his new chestnut gelding and Evandar on the white nearby. Sunlight? Yraen thought. Sunlight? Oh, ye gods! Yet he jogged on, falling into place beside the silver dagger, who turned in the saddle to grin at him.
“You don’t want to lose your way round here, lad.”
Rhodry’s voice sounded perfectly normal, and when Yraen looked, he saw that his friend’s neck bore only a few green and yellow bruises, all faded and old.
“I can see that I don’t, truly.”
Ahead the mist thinned to a sunny day, and Yraen could hear the sea, muttering on a graveled shore. Evandar paused his horse and waved them on past.
“You’re a bit east of Dun Mannannan and the shop of Cardyl the silversmith,” he called out. “Farewell, silver daggers, and may your gods give you luck that’s good and horses to match it.”
The mist sealed him over,