A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [80]
“Most likely you would,” She paused, glancing over her shoulder at something that only she could see. “I’ve still got to be quick, even though it’s ever so much easier to talk like this. But Evandar said to tell you something else, that these people respect and honor the dweomer more than any other thing under the sun and moon, and so you’ll have a welcome there.”
“And I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that, too! I’d been rather wondering about it.”
“No doubt.” She flashed a grin. “When do you want to go? I imagine that you’ve got farewells to make.”
“And some gear to get together. And, well, there’s somewhat I’ve got to do before I leave, not that Salamander’s going to thank me for it, I suppose. I don’t suppose we can set a time, anyway. If I say a fortnight, how will you know when that comes round?”
“It’s difficult, yes. I do have a plan. There’s a place that I can wait, one that’s next to your world, you see, and so its Time runs a little closer to yours. Get yourself ready, and I’ll come to you as soon as I can. Send me one of the Wildfolk for a messenger.”
“Splendid. And you have my thanks and a thousand times my thanks.”
“Most welcome.” She paused again, staring down at the ground and frowning. “The child. She’s going to have to be born soon, because there’s trouble brewing in our lands. I can’t explain. I only half understand it myself. But it’s going to have to be soon.”
All at once a thought struck Jill. It might well be that Salamander and his new wife would serve the dweomer whether he wanted to or no.
“Tell me something. Could the child be born here? In the islands, I mean?”
“No, not at all. All the omens, and what little logic there is in this thing, for that matter, say she has to be born into the Westlands.”
“That’s a pity.”
“Why?”
“Oh, just that I know a new husband who might make a splendid father for such a child.”
“Good, because, you see, there’ll be other children born later, lots and lots—at least, if I can carry this thing off. Jill, at times I’m frightened.”
“Well, for what my help is worth, you have it”
“It’s worth a very great deal.”
They clasped hands and shared a smile. Jill was surprised at how warm and solid Dallandra’s hand felt; she’d been expecting some cool etheric touch.
“If great things are on the move,” Jill said, “I’d best wrap up my affairs here and get on my way back to Deverry.”
“When the time draws near, III take you back to Deverry, have no fear about that. I’ve so many marvels to tell you about, to show you, once we’ve time to talk together for a while, but now—”
“Yes, I understand. You’d best go. It’s almost dawn, and if other people find you here, they’ll ask questions.”
Dallandra walked toward the inn-yard gates, turned once to wave, then vanished in a glimmer of gray dawn light. Marvels, indeed! Jill thought. All at once she laughed aloud, thinking what a wonderful Jest it would be on Salamander, if indeed he ended up fathering the body for some dweomer-touched child. Even Nevyn, she supposed, would have been able to see the humor in this, for all that the old man could be downright grim more often than not.
When Dallandra mentioned trouble brewing, she meant nothing more than the ill will that Alshandra bore her, but as things turned out she’d spoken more truly than she knew. After she left Jill at the inn yard, she traveled back through the twisting roads and the mists to Evandar’s country. He was waiting for her on the hilltop, standing alone and looking down through the night to the meadow where his people danced by torchlight. The music drifted up to them on the wind, harp and drum and flute.
“You’ve come back,” he said, “My heart ached the whole time you were gone.”
“Did you think I’d desert you so soon?”
“I no longer know what to think. I thought I was so clever at jests and riddles, and now you’ve posed me a riddle that I can’t answer.” He shook his head and made his yellow hair toss like a horse’s mane. “I take it you found Jill?”
“I did,