A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [178]
“You’re dropping where you sit, silver daggers,” Cadmar said with a grin. He hauled himself to his feet and motioned toward his warband. “Maen, Dwic, get over here. Find these silver daggers bunks and some clean blankets.” He turned to Otho. “Good sir, would you care for an escort into town?”
“If you could spare a lad to show me the way to an inn, Your Grace, I’d be grateful.”
Yraen stared goggle-eyed as a page appeared to play servant to the dwarf and lead him away. At the door Otho turned and honored them with a cheery wave. It was the first time Rhodry had ever seen him grin.
“Well, I never!” Yraen hissed. “By all the gods and a rat’s ass, too!”
“I told you that anyone rich enough to hire us must be some sort of a personage, didn’t I now?”
Yraen was in for one more surprise. As they were leaving the hall, they passed the table where Daralanteriel’s escort was sitting, though Dar himself seemed to be lingering with his lady upstairs. At the sight of Rhodry all of the men leapt up, yelling his name, mobbing him round, slapping him on his back, and talking as fast as they could and all in Elvish. Rhodry answered in the same; as tired as he was, he was near to tears just from hearing that musical tongue again.
“And Calonderiel,” he said at length. “How is he?”
“As mean and stubborn as ever,” one of the archers said, grinning. “If he’d known you were on your way here, he’d have ridden east with us, I’m sure.”
Rhodry started to make some jest, then saw Yraen, watching all of this with his mouth hanging open. The gwerbret’s man seemed more than a little surprised himself.
“I’d best go,” Rhodry said to the archers. “I’ll come drink with you all later.”
When Rhodry extricated himself and rejoined him, Yraen started to speak, then merely shrugged and looked heavenward, as if reproaching the gods.
“Well, come along, then,” Rhodry said. “No use in just standing here, is there? Let’s go see what our new lord’s barracks are like.”
Quite decent, as it turned out. Made of good oak and freshly whitewashed, the barracks stood on top of the stables and up against the dun wall in the usual style. The bunks were solid, the mattresses new, and Maen issued them both good quality blankets.
“The gwerbret must be a grand man to ride for,” Rhodry said. “If he’ll treat a silver dagger this well.”
“He is.” Maen, a pale slip of a lad, stood for a moment looking them over. “Well, we need every man we can get now.”
Yraen growled under his breath, but Rhodry stepped in front of him.
“Thanks for your help. We’ll just be getting some sleep.”
Maen shrugged and slouched out of the room. Yraen ostentatiously spit onto the straw-strewn floor.
“I always warned you about the long road, didn’t I?” Rhodry suddenly yawned and flopped down on the edge of his bunk to pull off his boots. “Ye gods, I just realized somewhat. Otho never paid us.”
“Little bastard! Well, we’ll have it out of his pockets or his hide. Either one’s fine with me. Rhodry, those men. The prince’s escort, I mean. Uh, they’re not human, are they.”
It was not a question.
“They’re not, truly. Do you remember years and years ago, when we first met, and we talked one night about seeing things that weren’t there?”
“And Mael the Seer’s book, and the way he was always mentioning elves. I do. It aches my heart to admit it, but I do.”
“Well, then, I don’t need to say a cursed lot more, do I now?”
Yraen merely sighed for a no and busied himself with making up his bunk. Rhodry lay down, wrapped himself in his blankets, and fell asleep before he even heard Yraen start snoring.
When he woke, the barracks were pitch-dark and empty, but Jill was sitting on the end of his bunk. Her he could see in the silver cloud clinging to her, an ever-shifting light that hinted of half-seen forms. He stifled a yelp of surprise and sat up.
“My apologies,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’d give any man a turn, seeing a woman he once loved and all that glowing like the moon. Ye gods,