Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [113]
“He says that everything’s happened,” Garin translated. “You’ll have to explain this to me later, Rori.”
“And so I will, but please, tell him that I’ve never received higher praise, not once in my life.”
When Garin translated this last, Varn nodded, well-pleased. As usual, when they spoke, Garin translated back and forth between them.
“You’ve proved somewhat to me here,” Varn began. “I think you might be warrior enough to understand what I have to say. We, too, have tales of heroes fighting from dragonback, but I see now that they’re naught but a tale-singer’s fine words, all empty air. Perhaps with enough time we could find weapons to match your mount, but there is no time, Rori Dragonmaster. You had best consider yourself a scout for this battle and naught more.”
“Never! How could I ever hold my head up again if I rode to war only to hang back? It’s the honor of the thing! Here, I can just ride the dragon to battle, then take a horse and fight like other men.”
“You disappoint me after all.”
Rhodry felt it like the slice of a knife. He took a few steps away, the wooden sword dangling from one hand. Through the maze of stone, he could see the cold burn and seethe of the silver river. When Varn spoke, the authority in his voice called him back even before Garin translated.
“What did you just show me, here at the bottom of the stairs?” Varn said. “I thought you understood the thing you need to understand, if we’re to win this war.”
Rhodry considered, then forced himself to voice the bitter truth.
“There are times when doing naught is all a man can do.”
“Just so! Very good, lad. There’s hope for you after all, eh? When you and the dragon first came here, Garin told me about this strange creature Evandar and his meddling. If he can truly read the future, and everyone seems to think he can, then he must have some use for this wyrm.”
“Not that he ever told me or any dweomermaster, either. He saw an omen, he said. He didn’t know himself what it meant.”
“Even so, an omen is a powerful thing. If you leave her behind in order to satisfy your vanity, you might well be leaving the victory stabled with her.”
“Vanity?” For a moment Rhodry was too enraged to speak.
Varn snapped a few sentences out. Garin winced and gave what Rhodry could guess was an edited translation.
“He says to tell you that you blasted well know exactly what he means.”
“So I do, and truly, he’s right. But you can’t know how deep this cuts. I want blood and vengeance. I’m no dweomerworker, to sit about idly wondering how to fulfill some wretched omen or other! It gripes my soul.”
Garin translated again.
“No doubt,” Varn answered. “If it hadn’t griped your soul, I would have been disappointed in you. But do it anyway.”
The old man turned and walked off, disappearing among the towering stones into shadow. Rhodry didn’t need Garin to tell him that the audience was over.
“Well, might as well start the climb back up,” Garin said.
“Just so. Huh. Last time I came to Lin Serr, I was taken blind down to the women’s quarters, and this time I get to find my own way here in the dark. If I come back again, will you have any other secrets to show me?”
“Oh, not truly. The Halls of the Dead, maybe.”
Rhodry felt a touch of ice run down his spine, just from the way Garin’s words seemed to hang in the damp air.
“Will you do me a favor?” Rhodry said at last. “If I should die near here someday, and if it’s at all possible, will you see that I’m buried in Lin Serr?”
“Providing I’m still alive myself, like. I’ll promise you that if you’ll do the same for me.”
“Done, then.”
They shook hands on it with the silver river for a witness.
On the morrow, late in the afternoon, Brel Avro and the burial party finally returned. One look at their hard-set and grim faces told Rhodry all he needed to know. They’d seen what he’d seen, up at the farms, and like him, they were ready for war.
Through the silver world of Elemental Air, Evandar’s army rode in utter silence. Their horses’ hooves made