Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [103]
By sunset of the third day, Dregydd had twelve Western hunters in his herd, including the golden stud that he particularly wanted, and it was a good thing, too, because Jennantar abruptly announced that no one else wanted to trade with him. Dregydd made no attempt to argue with the news, merely walked away to tell the men that they would be riding out on the morrow.
“I’ll be going with you,” Jennantar remarked to Jill. “Aderyn’s taking three of us along for guards.”
“I don’t blame him. I met this Loddlaen, and I wouldn’t trust him with a copper, much less my life. Well, if you lay your complaint with the tieryn, she’ll haul him into her malover for you.”
“Her what? I’ve never heard that word.”
“Malover. It’s when someone feels wronged and asks a tieryn or a gwerbret to judge the matter. The priests of Bel come, too, because they know all the laws.”
“Oh. Well and good, then. No doubt Aderyn knows all the right things to say.”
At dawn of the next day, the caravan prepared for the long march back to Eldidd. In the cool gray morning, the mules brayed in protest as the yawning men loaded up the last of the trade goods and the provisions Dregydd had obtained from the Westfolk. Jill was helping rope the riderless horses together when Aderyn rode up with his guards, Jennantar and then two men he introduced as Calonderiel and Albaral. Jennantar led a horse that was dragging a loaded travois.
“Come ride at the head of the line with me and Jill,” Dregydd said to the old man. “I’ll put your men in the rear with Cullyn, on guard, like, if you don’t mind.”
“You’re the caravan master,” Aderyn said, smiling. “We ride at your orders.”
Since they were heading for Cannobaen, the caravan took a different route back. For the first day, Dregydd led them straight south through the long grasslands. Once, they saw at a great distance the tiny figures of mounted riders and riderless horses heading west, like a ship seen across a green ocean, but if that clan of Westfolk saw the caravan, they gave no sign. Jill found herself wondering what it would be like to ride endlessly from nowhere to nowhere, always free like the falcon in the skies. She had such a life herself, but she knew with a bitter certainty that someday her wandering would end. At times she dropped back to ride beside Cullyn, and she would notice the gray sprinkling his hair and the web of fine lines around his eyes. The day was coming when some younger man would bring his Wyrd to him in battle. The thought brought such panic that at times it was hard to breathe.
On the second day, the caravan turned east. Here and there they came to magnificent stands of forest, but Dreggyd knew his route well and led them from wild meadow to wild meadow. Once the track passed through straggly young beeches and alders that had to be second-growth forest, and on the other side was land that had once been plowed. Packed flint walls still stood, marking out long-gone fields. In pastures Jill saw tumbledown stone sheds and white cattle, gone wild and as suspicious as deer. Since she was riding next to Aderyn, she asked him if the Westfolk had once farmed there.
“Not the Westfolk, but Eldidd men,” Aderyn said. “A long, long time ago it was, but some of the younger sons of Eldidd lords tried to colonize out here. It was too far west, and they couldn’t keep their holdings.”
“And was there trouble with the Westfolk over it?”
“Trouble and twice trouble. The Westfolk used to roam much farther east than they do now, and they felt they’d given up enough land.”
“Here, I never heard any tales about that.”
“It was a very long time ago, and Eldidd men have forgotten. They’ve worked at forgetting, truly. But haven’t you ever wondered about the names of the rivers—the El, the Delonderiel? Those aren’t Deverry words, child.”
“Of course! Delonderiel’s like Calonderiel.”
“Just so, and Eldidd was called Eltidiña, a long time ago when Deverry men first sailed here.” Aderyn thought for a moment. “That was eight hundred or so years ago, if I remember rightly. It’s been