A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [82]
She was gone, winking out like a blown flame, but all round them the wind seemed cold and the sunlight, shadowed. Shaking and pale, Elessario leaned into Dallandra’s clasp.
“Friends? Groveling?” Evandar said. “I wonder what she means by that. I very much do. I’d say it bodes ill, an ill-omened thing all round.”
“I’d never argue with you.” Dalla felt her voice as very small and weak. “We’d best try to find out what she means by friends.”
“Will the finding be a safe thing? I don’t know, mind. I’m asking you.”
“I don’t know, either. Can’t we get away from all this music and the noise and all?”
“Of course. Ell, I fear to leave you alone. Come with us.”
“I’m so tired, Father. I don’t want to.”
“Well, I’m not going to leave you sleeping beside the river like a falcon’s lure. I—” All at once he smiled. “Very well, my love, my daughter, my darling. Rest you shall have. Dalla, if you’ll step here to my side?”
Puzzled, Dallandra did just that. Evandar raised one hand and waved out a circle that seemed to float from his fingers and ring his daughter round. He chanted, too, in some language that Dallandra had never heard before, just softly, briefly while Elessario yawned, reaching up to rub her eyes. It seemed that the wind caught her hair and tossed it, spread it out around her as she reached up higher, grabbed at it, her fingers turning long and slender, growing out, her arms reaching, stretching, stiffening, suddenly, as gray-brown bark wrapped her body round, and her hair, all green and gold, sprouted into leaves. A young oak tree, some seven feet tall and slender, nodded in the evening wind.
“Alshandra the Inelegant will never think to look for her there,” Evandar remarked. “She truly can be a bit thick at times.”
Dallandra merely stared, gape-mouthed, until he took her hand and led her away.
While Evandar was confronting his wife in his strange homeland, in the world of men Jill was trying to discharge what she saw as her obligation to Salamander before she moved on. After the triumph at Myleton Noa, the troupe set sail, falling into the routine of sailing down the coast some miles, then disembarking at yet another sodden hamlet, where they would be received like kings. Jill had the distinct feeling that Salamander was avoiding her. When everyone was crammed on board the small and smelly coaster, it was of course impossible to get a word alone with him. On land, whenever she went looking for him for their talk about his studies, he always seemed to be negotiating with an innkeep, or teaching a member of the troupe a juggling trick, or solving some problem among the acrobats, or arranging their next show. Finally, though, one evening in a good-sized town called Injaro, he made the mistake of leaving the dinner table early while Marka stayed behind to gossip with her friends. Jill followed him upstairs and cornered him in his inn chamber.
“Uh, I was just going back down,” he squeaked. “I have to talk to Vinto and make sure the troupe’s ready to take ship. We’re leaving on the dawn tide, you know.”
“Indeed? Then why have you lit all these lamps?”
“Er, just looking for somewhat. Are you all packed and ready for the journey? Best make sure you are.”
“Stop driveling.”
With a heavy sigh Salamander sank down onto an enormous purple cushion and gestured at her to find a seat opposite him. Sitting so close, she could smell the scent of sweet wine clinging to him and see the dark circles smudged under his puffy eyes.
“I was only wondering how your studies were going.” She made her voice as mild as possible.
“I haven’t done one rotten thing, and you know that as well as I do. Jill, I’m so cursed weary!”
“Well, then, when do you plan to take them up again?”
“Never.”
The last thing she’d expected was candor. He went so wide-eyed and tense that she knew he’d shocked himself, too, but though she waited, he refused to back down, merely