Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [94]
“Dregydd?” Jill said. “Did the Westfolk build this bridge?”
“They must’ve, lass. No one else out here to build it.”
Then, Jill supposed, the Westfolk had to be able to see the little creatures she could see. It might explain why the Wildfolk here were so bold. That night, when they camped in another clearing, the Wildfolk wandered in for a close look at these interlopers. They strolled round, peering at the muleteers, touching anything shiny with long pointed fingers, occasionally pinching one of the horses just to make it stamp. Although only Jill could see them, most of the men could feel that something peculiar was going on. They turned sullen, sitting close together and concentrating on dice games, snapping at each other, too, over every roll. Eventually Cullyn would step in, speaking to every man personally and judging the games. Jill began to see why Dregydd wanted her father along.
Fortunately, at about noon on the morrow the caravan broke free of the forest. As the land rose, the trees began to thin, until finally they left the last of them behind and came to a wide, flat plateau. Ahead, wind-ruffled grasslands stretched like a green sea out to the horizon. Although Jill was glad to be out of the forest, the plain had its own eerieness, too, simply because she had never seen any view so empty.
“Are there any towns or suchlike out there?” Jill said.
“Naught that I know of. But then, I’ve never been much farther than this. Just a few miles along now, there’s a place where I always camp and wait for the Westfolk to find me. They always know when I’m here. It’s an eerie thing.”
The Wildfolk told them, Jill assumed, but of course she wasn’t going to tell Dregydd any such thing. When they came to the campsite beside a pleasant stream, hundreds of Wildfolk flocked round, considered the caravan for a few minutes, then abruptly disappeared.
That night, Jill had trouble sleeping. She kept waking to lie on her back and look at the stars and the great drift of the Snowy Road, which seemed to hang closer to earth out there. For all her restlessness, she never heard anything moving near the camp, but when dawn broke, two men of the Westfolk were there. Jill woke for the last time to see them standing quietly a few yards away, waiting for the sleeping camp to rouse. They were tall, but slender, with deep-set eyes and moonbeam pale hair like Loddlaen’s. Their faces would have been handsome if it weren’t for their ears, which rose to a delicate point like the curled tip of a seashell. Even though Dregydd had warned her that the Westfolk cropped their children’s ears as babies, Jill still found the sight unnerving. They were dressed in leather boots and trousers, and cloth tunics, heavily embroidered in a free pattern of flowers and vines that splashed across one shoulder and trailed down the front.
Since she slept mostly dressed, Jill got up and walked over barefoot to greet them. When she was close enough to notice their eyes, she was in for another shock. Their irises were enormous, with barely any white showing around them, and their pupils were a vertical slit like a cat’s. They don’t do that when their children are babies, Jill thought, I wonder how Dregydd explains that away. Her feeling of being faced with something totally alien was so strong that she nearly yelped aloud when one spoke to her in perfect Deverrian.
“Good morrow, fair maid,” he said. “Have you and your menfolk come to trade?”
“We have. Our leader’s name is Dregydd.”
“I know him, truly.” He cocked his head to one side and studied her with a faint smile. “I’ve never seen one of your womenfolk before. Are they all as lovely as you?”
When Jill stood there tongue-tied, he laughed and made her a bow.
“Tell Dregydd we’ll bring the others.”
They walked away, glided away, really, without the slightest sound, as if the grass were parting to let them go through. At some distance they’d left their golden horses. Jill stared