Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [180]
FUTURE
The Westlands, 1117
CAUDA DRACONIS
In most of the lands of our map, this figure mingles evil with good, and good with evil, so that it does mitigate both the joys and the sorrows of our lives. If it fall into the Land of Silver, that is to say, the land of kin and clan, then does it bring a fortunate end to such affairs, though the caster must always bear in mind that no matter of blood ties will remain unvexed for long.
—The Omenbook of Gwarn,
Loremaster
A LATE MORNING SUN laid pale light over grass that grew brown under naked trees. When Rhodry went to the stream to drink, he found the water cold enough to sting. Swearing, he washed his face, tossing his head in a scatter of drops. Samaen had been and gone, he supposed, not that he could know for sure without a priest to tell the days. In his heart, though, he felt winter. Calonderiel strolled over to join him.
“Autumn’s here, sure enough,” the warleader said. “I’m glad the gwerbret’s called an end to this chase.”
“So am I. Will you be heading south today?”
“I will. Gwerbret Cadmar’s heading back to Cengarn, of course, and his allies with him. What about you? Are you riding home? Your father’s going to be waiting at the winter camps.”
“Will he? I’d like to see him again, truly. No doubt Arzosah would be glad of it, if I gave her leave to go.”
“No doubt. I’m sick of hearing that wyrm grumble and whine, I tell you. You can have one of my horses for the ride home, of course.”
Rhodry sighed, running damp hands through his hair to shove it clear of his face. He’d never told Calonderiel about Angmar and Haen Marn, nor did he want to now. Cal would only voice his own doubts. The island might never return; he might never see Angmar again; he might waste the rest of his life, haunting the Northlands, waiting in vain, when he could return to his people and live in honor and comfort, out in the peace of the grasslands.
“Well, there’s Jahdo,” Rhodry said. “I took the lad into my charge, you know, and made him a promise.”
“True. You could bring him west with you. We’ll take him home in the spring.”
“I suppose.”
“Ye gods, you’re bound and determined to stay in Cengarn, aren’t you?” All at once Calonderiel grinned. “Wait a moment! Am I right in thinking Dallandra has somewhat to do with this?”
“You’re not.”
“Hah! When Dar brings his lady back to us, ride with him, will you? Bring Dalla home, too.”
Rhodry looked away. Across the stream lay a long meadow, and beyond it the hills rose, brown and sere. A blue mist hung in the chilly air, while far away he could see the high mountains rise, their peaks gleaming white.
“I don’t know, Cal, I just don’t know. Who knows what a man’s Wyrd will bring him? Spring’s a long way away yet.”
“So it is. Well, then, I’ll hope I see you again and leave it at that.”
Rhodry had one more farewell to make. He and Garin sat together to share a meager breakfast of stale flatbread and moldy cheese. Neither spoke until they were done eating.
“Well, Rori,” the envoy said, “looks like neither of us will be going down to the Halls of the Dead just yet.”
“So it does. But one of these days, I’ll be coming back to Lin Serr, on my way to Haen Marn if naught else.”
“Good. I’ll hold you to that.”
They shook hands on it.
Round noon, the army split up. Cadmar’s forces, including one silver dagger and a dragon, and the dwarven axmen headed out east by different roads to return to their respective cities, while Calonderiel led his men south.
The gwerbret and his men had a long ride of it. The rain came day after day, washing them with an aching cold, sickening the men and horses both, turning the roads to mud. Although rain was the usual fare in the Northlands this time of year, Rhodry couldn’t help wondering if the raven woman lay behind the storms. He’d seen dweomerworkers call the weather before, and taking a petty revenge would be like her.
The weather, though, was the least of their troubles. By then, the provisions they’d brought with them were mostly exhausted. The Horsekin had already