Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [42]
“Excuse me.”
The prince turned to see Daryth, looking amazingly healthy, standing behind him. The Calishite cleared his throat. “May I have the pleasure of the next dance?”
Robyn glanced at his arm, which hung freely, and quickly said, “Certainly.” She spun away from the prince to settle into Daryth’s long arms.
For a second, Tristan watched them whirl away, realizing that his moment had passed. Disgusted with himself, he turned back to the table and sat, pouring another mug of ale. For a moment he almost regretted that Daryth had recovered so completely under the cleric’s ministrations.
“Hello, my prince.”
Tristan turned to see a somber-looking Pawldo, accompanied by the halfling maiden he had been with at the fair – was her name Allian? Her doll-like face was marred by deep circles under her eyes, and she darted looks about the hall as if she was frightened of something.
“How are you?” asked the prince. “Is something wrong?”
“Trouble in Lowhill,” admitted the halfling, as Allian looked away. “Some creature tore into a burrow a couple of nights ago – under the full moon. Killed a whole family.”
Keren, sitting nearby, turned at the halfling’s words. “The full moon, you say? What kind of creature?”
“Nobody saw it, but it must have been terrifying. It dug the dirt from around the door – left massive claw marks – and tore the burrow apart.” Allian covered her face and turned away from Pawldo’s description. He lowered his voice, while Daryth and Robyn walked up to listen. The two halflings and humans settled around a small table. Tristan signaled a scullery maid for a fresh pitcher of ale, while Pawldo continued.
“It didn’t eat the bodies – just ripped ’em up, and spread the blood around. The warriors followed its tracks to Corlyth Creek, but then lost it. No one had ever seen prints like those before – dog-like, but huge.”
“The trouble is perhaps worse than we imagined,” mused the bard. “First, the Firbolgs, and now this. The power of the goddess seems to be waning rapidly.”
“But what does it mean?” cried Robyn, agitated. “What can we do about it?”
“More than you can imagine,” replied Keren. “Tell me, what did you do to cause the trees to entangle that Firbolg?”
Robyn looked both embarrassed and puzzled. “Nothing, really. It was going to… to kill Tristan, and I screamed – I guess I said ‘No!’ or something. And it just happened.”
“Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“No, never. I mean, I’ve always felt a kind of empathy with plants – with all wild things. Sometimes it seems as if I can share their joy and sorrow – if plants can know such things.”
“Tell me about your parents,” persisted the bard.
“I never knew them. My father was an honored captain in the king’s regiment, but he died in the last war with the northmen, before I was born.” For a moment, Robyn looked hesitant, but then she continued.
“I don’t know who my mother was. The king told me that she died when I was born. I’ve asked him about her, but he won’t tell me more. I, well, I’ve always gotten the impression that there was some kind of scandal or something – the king gets really angry if I press him, so I’ve never forced the issue. And no one else around here will tell me anything either!” She scowled as she remembered her frustrations over the years – everyone she asked telling her they didn’t know, lying to her! Or else saying it was better she didn’t know.
Daryth looked curiously at Tristan while Robyn spoke. “Do you know more?” he said quietly.
“No. She has been here since I was a small boy. For a long time I thought