Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [165]
“From the tip of his wing, then.” She threw back her head and snarled. “It drew me like a lure.”
“And is that why they wanted the thing so badly?” Evandar put in. “I’ll wager it was. Alshandra knew I’d drawn the dragon into this, and she wanted the whistle to use against her.”
“If she weren’t dead already, I’d kill her,” Arzosah growled.
“But she is, she is.”
“And Jill with her.” Rhodry heard his voice hang small and still in the night air.
For a long moment, Evandar considered, his head cocked to one side, the smile gone.
“Oh, stop it!” Rhodry spun on his heel and looked away, out over the silent camp.
“My heart aches for you,” Evandar said. “My apologies.”
Rhodry let out his breath in a long sigh.
“I’ll have vengeance on the morrow.”
“So we all will,” Evandar said. “Here. Do you want to know who killed Yraen?”
“With all my heart and soul.”
“Very well, then. That I can do for you.”
Rhodry turned back to find Evandar staring at the sky, still dark with the unnatural clouds.
“Ah, I see it,” Evandar whispered. “The man that killed Yraen is the man that has the longbow. He’s a blond fellow, tall and rather slender, with a face as sharp as a knife.”
“Oh, is he now?” Rhodry felt a smile growing beyond his power to stop it. “Then maybe I’ll see if I can blunt it for him on the morrow. If I can find him, if the gods are willing.”
“Then I’ll wish you the best of luck.” Evandar shivered like a man who feels a cold draft down his neck. “The iron is starting to ache my bones. Fare thee well, Rori, till tomorrow.”
With a shimmer like moonlight on water, Evandar disappeared.
For the rest of that night, they laid Jill’s body out on an improvised bier in the great hall. Though there were no flowers to be had, a weeping Lady Labanna put candles all round to light her way to the Otherlands. Jahdo sat crouched in the curve of the wall and watched while Dallandra, her wounded arm bound, chanted an elven prayer over her friend’s corpse. Carra was sobbing so hard that she couldn’t stand, while the other women cried silently nearby. A few at a time, the men came through to pay their respects and to drink a toast in her honor. Gwerbret Cadmar himself came last and stopped to say a word to the boy.
“There, there, Jahdo, the siege will be over on the morrow. We’ll find a place for you here in the dun, the stables or suchlike.”
“My thanks, Your Grace. You do truly be kind, to think of me now.”
The gwerbret laid a comforting hand on Jahdo’s head, then hobbled off, leaning on his stick. I’ll never see my Mam and Da again now, Jahdo thought, and thinking that, he began to weep himself. Dallandra finished her prayer and came over, holding out her hand.
“Come say farewell, Jahdo, and then we’ll all go upstairs. You can sleep in my chamber tonight. We’ll put a mattress on the floor.”
“My thanks, my lady.” He scrambled to his feet and felt his head sway. “I’m so tired.”
He had to summon courage to look at the body, but when he did, he was glad he’d done it. This wasn’t Jill, not this frail old woman, this broken thing of bones and skin. He turned away and buried his face against Dallandra, who put her arm round his shoulders and led him away.
“Truly, she’s gone, isn’t she?” Dalla said. “She’s gone back to the Light, Jahdo, where we’ll all go in the end, every one of us, to dwell in the Otherlands with the Light.”
Although he didn’t understand what she meant, the tone of her voice soothed him like music. That night, he slept as if all battles were done, but before dawn, the sound of silver horns woke him.
With no one to banish them, the unnatural clouds lingered, lowering over dun and camp. In light as gray as steel, Rhodry unrolled Arzosah’s harness, then considered her as she crouched, waiting. All round them, the camp was coming awake, as the men gobbled down a hasty meal and began to arm.
“I wonder,” Rhodry said. “When the riders from the dun sally, you’re going to terrify their horses. They’ve never even got a good look at you.”
“A good smell of me, you mean.” Arzosah yawned.
“Doesn’t