Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [118]
“Done, then,” she said. “I’ll need to get sealed letters from the gwerbret and suchlike for you to carry. Dalla, when’s the best time for this little ride?”
“Broad daylight,” Dalla said in Deverrian, then switched to Elvish. “Before sunset, on the full astral tide of Fire.”
“Then we’d best hurry. I’ve got to find Carra another guard, too, though this time, I think I’ll rotate the duty among a whole squad.” Jill returned to Deverrian and Yraen. “Get your gear together and a horse. You’d best wear your mail and a helm, too. Meet us—” She glanced at Dalla. “Where?”
“Now that’s a good question. Are there ten feet together in this wretched dun or town where we won’t be seen leaving?” Dallandra frowned for a long moment, then grinned. “Well, why even leave the stables? There’s a long aisle twixt wall and stalls, isn’t there?”
“So there is,” Yraen said. “And no doubt the grooms will run like mice when they see a sorcerer coming.”
Yraen would have preferred to have left the dun without saying farewell to Carra, or failing that, to have had a private word with her, but as it was, they said the worst of all possible good-byes. With the womenfolk round her, she came down into the great hall and stood some ten feet away, watched without saying a word as Gwerbret Cadmar handed over the silver message tubes, and personally thanked Yraen for attempting this risky delivery. When Yraen rose from his kneel, he allowed himself a glance at Carra and found her on the edge of tears. With Jill muttering at him to hurry, he bowed in the princess’s direction, then started to follow the dweomermaster out of the great hall.
“Yraen!” Carra came running after him. “Yraen! Wait!”
He hesitated, glancing at Jill, who pointedly looked away. He stopped, turning just as the princess caught up to them, her golden hair wisping round her face.
“Be careful.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Do be careful, Yraen.”
It was a fatuous thing, but what else could she say? Already the other women were bustling up, Labanna glowering at her royal charge’s improprieties, that Carra would speak to, much less touch, a silver dagger in the middle of the great hall.
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “And you do the same.”
“I will.”
A squad of old women, as determined as warriors, surrounded her and marched her away. Yraen turned on his heel and strode out of the great hall.
Dallandra was waiting for him in the stables, where he’d left his saddled horse, and sure enough, there wasn’t a servant to be seen. Yraen settled the messages inside his shirt and against his belt, then led the snorting gray out.
“You’ll be glad of a bit of a run, won’t you, old lad?” He patted the horse’s neck. “So will I.”
Jill and Dallandra were speaking together in some language that he didn’t know. He waited, wondering if he’d ever see Carra again. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to or not. At last, the two dweomermasters stopped talking. While Jill went to the doorway and took up guard, the elven woman took the horse’s bridle.
“Mount up, Yraen, but let me lead you along. We’re going to be walking into a mist of sorts—do you remember that?”
“I doubt if I’ll ever forget it, my lady.”
“Good. At some point, I’m going to let the bridle go and yell at you to ride. When you hear that, gallop like all the hells were opening under you, because you know, they just might be.” She smiled briefly. “When you find yourself in country you recognize, you should be safe enough—unless you see Horsekin, of course.”
“Of course.” Yraen turned and waved at Jill. “Farewell.”
“And may you fare well, Yraen, for all our sakes.”
Dallandra clucked to his horse and began leading it forward in the narrow dark curve along the line of stalls. They had about thirty feet to walk before the wall, but they’d gone only a few strides when the mist formed, an opalescent billow, all silvery white shot with lavender and the palest blues. The horse tossed his head and snorted, but Dallandra soothed him with a few meaningless sounds. Another