Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [101]
“Ah, ye gods,” Lovyan whispered aloud. “I never thought he hated Rhodry as much as all this.”
She dropped her face into her hands and let the blessed tears come.
• • •
Much to Jill’s delight, it took Dregydd some days to finish trading with the Westfolk. One at a time, either a man or a woman would lead a horse over and sit down in the grass to haggle leisurely with the merchant. When that deal was done, an hour or two would pass before the next horse made its appearance. Since most of the Westfolk knew no Deverrian, the man named Jennantar stayed with Dregydd to translate. In her self-appointed role as Dregydd’s assistant, Jill came to know him fairly well. The second afternoon, during a break in the trading Cullyn came over and insisted that Jill take a walk with him down by the river.
“I wish to every god and his wife that you wouldn’t spend so much time hanging around old Dregydd. I know cursed well it’s the stinking Westfolk you want to talk with.”
“Da, I just don’t see what you have against them. They’re not animals. Look at their clothes and their jewelry, and then they built that bridge over the river. Somewhere they must have farms and cities and suchlike.”
“Indeed? And I suppose you’d like to ride off with that Jennantar and take a look at them.”
“What? Da, you’re daft! He’s got a wife and a baby, and he’s never said one wrong word to me.”
“Oh, horseshit! There’s more than one man in the world who’s had a wife and didn’t mind having a pretty lass, too.”
“Da, I don’t even know what to say to you when your temper takes you this way.”
Cullyn stopped walking, turning a little to look out over the endless green of the grasslands, and his mouth went slack and weary. Jill laid a hand on his arm.
“Da, please, what’s so wrong?”
“Oh, may the gods blast me if I even know, my sweet. It aches my heart, being out here. For years I thought it was the edge of nowhere, and now I find out there’s this dismal strange folk riding round out here, and they’ve been here all along, and,” he shrugged in inarticulate frustration, “and, well, you’re going to think me daft, curse it, but they stink of dweomer and witchcraft. So does that Aderyn fellow.”
Jill couldn’t have been more shocked if a performing bear in the marketplace had suddenly started declaiming a bard song. Her stolid warrior of a father—talking of dweomer?
“Well,” Cullyn snapped. “I said it sounds daft!”
“It doesn’t, truly. I think you’re right.”
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded, as if he’d been waiting for her judgment upon the matter. Jill felt a cold streak down her back. As if to mock her, the gray gnome popped into manifestation nearby, grinned at her, then vanished again.
“Da? I’d never leave you. If you thought I would, then truly, you were daft.”
Cullyn relaxed, smiling at her softly.
“Well and good, then, my sweet,” he said. “My apologies. You can watch our merchant haggle if you want to. We’ll be getting out of here soon enough.”
Jill took him up on his offer and went back to the trading. When she sat down beside Jennantar, he raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Doesn’t your father think I’m fit company for you?”
Jill merely shrugged. He started to say more, then suddenly jumped to his feet with an oath for trouble brewing. Two of the Westfolk were arguing with a frightened Dregydd, who was clasping the last remaining sword of Lughcorn steel. As Jill followed Jennantar over, she heard them arguing about buying it.
“Now, here!” Dregydd snapped. “I never promised it to either of you.”
The two men looked only at each other in an anger the more frightening because it played over such beautiful faces.
“Jill!” Jennantar hissed. “Go fetch Aderyn. Quick!”
Without thinking, Jill ran to the Westfolk’s camp. At the edge, she stopped, suddenly bewildered by the profusion of bright colors, the gaggle of children and dogs, the unfamiliar language that swirled around her. A few at a time, Westfolk strolled over and surrounded her. When a dog growled, she stepped back sharply.
“Aderyn,” Jill said. “Jennantar told me