Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [88]
In a while, when Rhodry left the table to fetch them more ale, her curiosity bit hard enough to force her to give in.
“Salamander,” she said, “did you know I spent a lot of time once out in the west.”
“Nevyn mentioned somewhat like that. Why?”
“Is the name of your father Devaberiel by any chance?”
“It is, at that. Fancy your knowing that!”
“Well, I just guessed.” She found a convenient lie. “A man named Jennantar once mentioned in passing that a bard he knew had a son who was a gerthddyn, here in Deverry I mean. Well, think I, it’s not likely there’d be two men like you, half-an-elf and all.”
“By the gods, you have sharp eyes! Well, I have to confess, now that you’ve ferreted out my parentage so neatly, that I am indeed the son of that esteemed bard, for all that it seems to vex him deeply at times. I know Jennantar well, by the way. I hope he’s well. I haven’t been in the elven lands for—oh, two years now.”
“He was well the last time I saw him, last summer.”
So, she thought, I’ll wager he doesn’t know Rhodry’s his brother. She felt sad, knowing that she could never tell them the truth, but she held her tongue. It was truly best that Rhodry thought himself a Maelwaedd, for his sake as well as Eldidd’s.
Later that night, when they were going out to the hayloft to sleep, Salamander went with them, for a word in private, or so he said. When she heard what he wanted to know, Jill was very glad that he had the sense to keep quiet about it in the tavernroom.
“Opium smugglers?” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re stupid enough to use that stuff.”
“Not on your life,” Salamander said. “Nevyn asked me to help track them down, and so I thought Dun Mannannan would be a logical place to start.”
“Oh, the lads here would never touch that kind of cargo. The smuggler lords have a certain amount of honor, you see.”
“So much for that, then. It’s lucky I met up with you, because truly, for all that my tongue is glib and golden, I was having a hard time thinking up the right sort of questions to ask.”
“And the wrong sort would have gotten your throat slit.”
“The thought had occurred to me. Now, here, Jill, from what Nevyn tells me, you’ve traveled all over this kingdom and been in many a strange place, too. Do you have any idea who buys the vile distillation of peculiar poppies?”
“Brothel keepers, mostly. They use it to keep their lasses in line.”
Salamander whistled under his breath. Rhodry was listening as if he couldn’t believe she’d said it.
“I never knew that,” Rhodry said. “How do you?”
“Da told me, of course. He was always warning me about men who lure lasses into brothels. It’s most common in Cerrmor, he said, but it happens all over.”
“Oh, by the black hairy ass of the Lord of Hell!” Salamander said. “Here it’s been under our noses the whole time! When I see Nevyn next, I must tell him that silver daggers know many a thing worth learning.”
Floating above the fire, Nevyn’s image looked as startled as if someone had just dumped cold water all over him.
“I never would have thought of that in a thousand years,” the old man’s thoughts came in a wave of bemusement. “And a vile and impious thing it is! Well, I’m almost to Eldidd. I think I’ll have a long talk with our Cullyn.”
“It seems a sensible thing to do,” Salamander thought back. “And I’ll return to Cerrmor if you like.”
“Splendid, but don’t make a move or say one thing until I tell you to. There are thugs mixed up in this trade as well as the dark dweomer, and we’re going to have to move carefully and lay clever snares.”
“Just so. You know, some brothels are secretly owned by men with considerable influence.”
Nevyn’s thought came like the growl of a wolf.
“No doubt! Well, we’ll see what we can do. My thanks, lad. This is a very interesting bit of news.”
After they broke the contact, Salamander put out the fire in the charcoal brazier with a wave