A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [88]
Evandar tossed his head back and laughed.
“Cadwallon was a splendid man, if a bit dour at times. I knew him well, my lady. Now, if only you’d come take the hospitality of my hall, there’s many a tale I could tell you.”
When Jill wavered, Dallandra intervened, shooting a scowl in his direction.
“Don’t listen to him, Jill. You’ve not got years and years of idle time to waste over a goblet of mead.”
“You are a harsh one, my love.” But Evandar was laughing. “Unfortunately, you speak true, and it would be too unscrupulous even for me to tempt our guest further. Look, see where the sun’s breaking through? I think me that it shines on the island you’re looking for.”
The mist ahead opened like a door and let through sunlight in a solid shaft. As they came close Jill felt the steamy heat of a tropical day streaming out to meet them.
“A thousand thanks, Evandar. Dalla, will I see you again?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I was thinking of coming with you, just for a little while.” She glanced at her glowering lover. “To you it’ll be but moments.”
“So it will, and go with my blessing, as long as you come back.”
“Oh, that I will.” Dallandra flashed a wicked smile. “This time.”
Before he could protest further she dropped his hand and strode forward into the shaft of sun. When Jill hurried after, the light was so strong that it burned her eyes and made them blink and water. Blind and stumbling, she stepped forward and fell to her knees in soft sand.
“Ych, this is awful,” Dallandra remarked from nearby. “I feel like I’m made of lead, and I’ve tripped over some driftwood or somewhat.”
Finally, after a lot of swearing and muttering, Jill got her sight back and realized that they were kneeling on a beach under a blazing sun that lay halfway between the zenith and the horizon—whether it was setting or rising, Jill couldn’t know. Off to her left the ocean stretched glittering; to her right, cliffs of pale sandstone rose up high; ahead the white sand ran on and on. Wildfolk swarmed round, climbing into their laps, patting their arms with nervous paws. Dallandra rose to her knees and shaded her eyes with one hand to frown up at the clifftops. Her figurine was gone, and when Jill automatically laid a hand at her own throat, she found that hers had vanished as well. She also realized that she could feel her pack on her back again; it had seemed to weigh nothing at all in the misty lands of the Guardians. For a moment Dallandra stood, looking this way and that, chewing on her lower lip in hard thought.
“Wait! I can just see … a long ways down the coast there. Look at those black dots wheeling round in the sky.”
“I can’t make them out at all.”
“My apologies; I forget you’re not elven. But I can just see what looks like birds, wheeling round and diving and suchlike. I’ll wager there’s a river mouth, and where there’s a river mouth there might be a harbor.”
“True spoken. There’ll be fresh water at least, and fish and suchlike.”
“You’ll need food, truly. Are you sure you should do this?”
“I don’t have much choice, do I? Don’t worry, Dalla. I’ve spent many a long year alone in wild places, and I have the elementals, too, to help me if need be.”
“Well and good, then. And I’ll be listening for you. If you call me, I’ll come. It may take me a while, but I will.”
“You have my thanks, and so does Evandar.”
Dallandra smiled, then turned and began walking toward the sea, heading for a place where it seemed the sun laid a road of gold across the water. She waded out into the gentle waves, seemed to step onto the golden road, and disappeared like mist vanishing in the glare of sun. She apparently knew the trick, as Evandar had called it, of traveling to the home of the three mothers of all roads.
Jill allowed herself the luxury of a brief moment of envying her, then made herself concentrate on the job at hand. The Wildfolk were still clustering round, undines thronging all silver in the breaking waves, sylphs and sprites hovering overhead, crystal glimpses in the strong sun. At the head of a pack of warty green and purple