Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [123]
“I know,” Alastyr said. “I was scrying you out.”
“If you’d thought to scry her out earlier—”
There it was, a flash of his all-too-familiar arrogance, but Alastyr let it pass, because they were in too much danger to risk fighting among themselves. Although he and Sarcyn were both good swordsmen, there were nineteen angry bandits standing around them, and Alastyr could never ensorcell them all. The newly elected leader of the pack strode over, his arms tightly crossed over his chest.
“You never told us that the lass could fight like a fiend from hell!”
“I warned you she was battle skilled.”
The bandit snarled alarmingly. Alastyr pulled out the pouch he had ready for them.
“I said that you’d be well paid, and I meant it. Here.”
When the bandit spilled the pouch into the palm of one hairy hand, his face brightened with a wide, gap-toothed smile at the sight of twenty pieces of silver, and a square-cut ruby as big as his thumbnail.
“No hard feelings, then,” he said, turning round. “Well and good, lads. We’ve got a jewel here that we can sell in Marcmwr, and we’ll live like kings for months.”
As the bandits cheered, Alastyr and Sarcyn mounted their horses and rode away, with old Gan leading Camdel behind them. Although the bandits might try later to ambush men they now thought rich, Alastyr could use his dweomer to hide them from such an unpleasant occurrence. Since he could trust Sarcyn to lead the way, he allowed himself to slip into the lightest possible trance. Someone was watching them. The knowledge came to him as a stab of pain at the base of his skull. Hurriedly he opened his eyes and rooted his consciousness back in the physical.
“Sarco!” he called out. “Our watcher is back.”
The apprentice slowed his horse and allowed Alastyr to ride up beside him.
“It must be the Master of the Aethyr,” Sarcyn said.
“It’s not. I’ve studied these things too long not to recognize such as him. It must be the Hawks. No one else it could be.”
As they rode on, Alastyr felt like cursing in frustration. Time was running short. If the Hawks were following them, they had to get out of Deverry. It would have been prudent, in fact, to turn round and head for the nearest harbor town as fast as they could travel. For a moment Alastyr hesitated on the verge of a decision—then he remembered the Old One, remarking that Sarcyn hated him. An apprentice who lost his respect for the dark dweomer was a dangerous man. And besides, what if the Old One had sent the Hawks to keep an eye not on the master but on the apprentice? That would be like the old man, working in secret.
Besides, they’d come so close to getting the lass, too close to give up now. Alastyr was sure that if he could take Jill alive, he would be able to trade her to Nevyn for a promise of safe passage out of Deverry—with the stone.
Although Jill wanted to wait at the patrol station for Rhodry, no silver dagger could refuse a direct order from a gwerbret’s captain to take an important message to the gwerbret himself, not without getting flogged, at any rate. Since Sunrise was too weary to risk riding, the groom gave her a sturdy black to start her journey. The captain had already given her an official token; as long as she was riding on his grace’s business, any of Blaen’s vassals would give her a fresh horse and a meal to speed the message on its way.
“Now, listen,” Jill said to the groom. “Sunrise had cursed well better be here when Rhodry arrives.”
“And what do you think we are, horse thieves?”
“There’s many a great lord who’s ‘traded’ for a horse whose owner had no mind for a trade.”
“True spoken, but your nag’s safe enough. I’ll tell you somewhat, silver dagger. We men of Cwm Pecl hate horse thieves the worst of all the thieves in the world. A horse thief doesn’t just get his hands cut off. He gets fifteen lashes and a public hanging.”
“Splendid. Then I’ll be on my way with a peaceful heart.”
Jill left the patrol station at a fast pace, alternately walking and trotting until she came free of the mountains. On the easier