A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [175]
Even though it was a rough sort of place at that time, Cengarn was already the strangest city in all Deverry, as much green with trees and gardens as gray with stone. At first glance the round, thatched houses, set randomly on curving streets, seemed ordinary enough, but here and there on the flanks of the steep hillsides little alleys led to huge wooden doors set right into the slopes themselves. Not only did the river, spanned by a dozen wooden bridges, wind through the valley between the hills, but right in the center of town a tiny waterfall cascaded down the steepest slope of all. Their escort pointed it out with a certain pride.
“There’s a spring up in the citadel,” he remarked. “Cursed handy thing for a siege.”
“And more than passing strange,” Rhodry said. “A spring at the top of a hill like that, I mean.”
The guard merely winked and grinned in a hint of secrets.
The dun itself was all carved stone and slate tiles, set behind a second rise of walls and gates of oak bound with iron. At the entrance to the main tower, Carra allowed Rhodry to help her dismount—in fact, she nearly fell into his arms. As she stood there, trying to collect her energy for the last little walk into the broch, she heard an elven voice yelling her name and looked up to see Dar, racing toward her with an escort of ten men of the Westfolk trailing after. In the sun his dark hair gleamed, flecked with bluish highlights like a raven’s wing. He never goes anywhere alone, was her muddled thought. I should have known he was a prince because of that.
Lightning leapt in between them and growled, tail rigid, ears flat.
“It’s all right.” Carra caught the dog’s attention and signaled him back to her side. “He’s a friend.”
Dar laughed, striding forward, throwing his arms tight around her, and she could think of nothing but him.
“Oh, my love, oh, my heart!” He was stammering and weeping and laughing in a vast confusion of feeling. “Thank the gods you’re safe. Thank the gods and the dweomer both! I’ve been such a dolt, such an imbecile! Can you ever forgive me?”
“What for?” She looked up, dazed by the flood of words, ensorcelled by warmth and safety.
“I never should have left you for a moment. I’ll never forgive myself for making you ride after me like this. I should have known your pig-faced Round-ear of a brother would try to marry you off.”
“Well, I didn’t let him. Please, Dar, I’ve got to sit down. Can’t I forgive you and all that later?”
He picked her up like a child and carried her toward the door, but she fell asleep in his arms long before he reached it.
As soon as Dar appeared in the doorway to the great hall with Carra in his arms and Lightning trotting faithfully behind, a flurry of womenfolk sprang up like a whirlwind and surrounded them, blew them away in a storm of practical chatter. Rhodry stood at the foot of the spiral staircase and watched Dar carry her up, the elven lad as surefooted as a goat on a sloped stone roof as he navigated the turns. After him went the women, the elderly serving women puffing and talking all in the same breath, the gwerbret’s lady giving calm orders.
“Silver dagger?” A page appeared at his elbow. “His grace wants to speak to you.”
“What about our horses?”
“Oh, the stable lad’s taken them already. Don’t worry. They’ll get plenty to eat and a good grooming. The gwerbret’s a truly generous man.”
To prove his point the page led them straight to the table of honor, where a serving lass brought them ale and a big basket of bread. While they were stuffing that in, a platter of cold roast pork appeared to go with it. Yraen