A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [181]
“You’re not all silver and glowy,” Carra said.
“So I’m not. That was beginning to be a bit of a nuisance, though sometimes it comes in handy, I must admit. How are you feeling?”
“Very well, actually. I’m still tired. I probably could have slept for days if her grace hadn’t woken me.”
“Most like. Carra, there’s somewhat I wanted to ask you, not that you have to answer, mind. How did you meet Dar?”
“At the horse market near my brother’s dun, well over a year ago it was now. He and his people rode in to trade, and I happened to be there with my brother. And he made this horrid jest—my brother, I mean, not Dar—he asked one of the Westfolk men if he’d take me in trade for a horse. And when my brother laughed, Dar came striding up and told him that he wouldn’t sell him the geldings he wanted. And my brother got mad as mad and swore at him, demanding to know why, like.” Carra grinned at the memory. “And Dar said that any man who’d be so cruel to his sister would probably beat his stock half to death. Which wasn’t true, mind. My brother’s a grand man round his horses. But anyway, later that day, when I was wandering round alone at the fair, Dar came up to me, and we got to talking.”
“Ah, I see.” Jill smiled briefly. “Love at first sight?”
“Oh, not at all. I was grateful to him, but he had to court me all summer before I fell in love with him. You see, Jill, he’s the first man I’ve ever met who wanted me, not my brother’s favor or some alliance. Of course, Lord Scraev was lusting after me, too, but he’s so awful, and the way his mouth smells!” She shuddered at the memory. “But even if my brother had found some decent man for my husband, he still would have asked about the dowry. I don’t think Dar even knows what a dowry is, and I doubt me if he’d care if he did.”
“I agree with you, truly. Tirade you for a horse—the stinking gall! Well, now, it’s time we got on our way. Get your cloak. Otho should be waiting for us. I sent him a messenger last night.”
The great hall was filled with armed men, gobbling bread and downing a last tankard of ale while they stood or sat in quiet packs. Up at the table of honor the gwerbret and two noble lords—vassals, no doubt—were huddled together, squinting at a map by the leaping firelight. Dar detached himself from the group and came over, signaling to ten of his escort to follow. He favored Jill with a respectful bow.
“Good morning, my love,” he said to Carra. “I see you’ve got the dog with you. Good. He’ll be the best sentinel you and the dwarves can have.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Dar, you will be careful, won’t you? It’d break my heart to lose you, you know.”
He merely laughed, tossing his head, his hair as dark as Loc Drw in winter, and caught her by the shoulders to kiss her.
With Dar and his men for guards, they left the dun and hurried through the twisting streets of Cengarn. Here and there a crack of candlelight gleamed through wooden shutters, or firelight glittered in a hearth, half-seen through an open door, but mostly the town lay wrapped in its last hour of sleep before the gray dawn broke. They trotted downhill for a bit, then cut sideways through an alley between two roundhouses, panted uphill again, turned down and to the left past a little stream in a stone culvert, crossed a bridge and walked across a grassy common, soaked with dew. When Carra glanced uphill, she found the gwerbret’s dun much farther away than seemed possible and gave up trying to figure out their route. At last they came to a hillside so steep it was half a cliff. Set right into it, between two stunted little pines, stood a wooden door with big iron hinges. Otho was waiting with a candle-lantern.
“Come in, come in, my lady. It gladdens my heart to see you, and my thanks for taking our humble hospitality. Don’t you worry, Jill. No one’ll get near the lass with us to guard her.”
“I’ve no doubt of it, and my thanks to you.”
Carra gave Dar one last kiss, felt her eyes fill with tears, and clung to him, so reluctant to let him go that her heart sank with dread.