Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [86]
A couple of gray gnomes sat in the lap of the guest occupying the chair, and she was far from ordinary as well. Not only was Dallandra a member of the race that men call Westfolk, or elves, but she was the only dweomermaster in Deverry whose power matched Jill’s. With her ash-blond hair and steel gray eyes, she was a beautiful woman, too, if one could overlook her eyes, slit vertically with dark irises like a cat’s, and her ears, long and furled. For the sake of privacy, they spoke in Elvish, which no one else in the dun could understand.
“What are we going to do about Meer?” Dallandra was saying. “I cannot convince him that I’m not a goddess. He keeps throwing himself onto the ground every time I come near him, and one of these days he’s going to hurt himself. I mean, he is blind.”
“Tell him that he’s so favored by the gods he need only kneel in your presence.”
“Jill, this is no time for jests!”
“I’m not jesting. I truly don’t think you have any chance of convincing him that you’re mortal. You might as well put your divine status to good use.”
Dallandra scowled, then laughed. “Perhaps so. Besides, I know what convinced him, and I have to admit, it was fairly spectacular. It was when Rhodry first captured our bard, and he and young Jahdo were penned up in that awful dungeon here. I felt so bad for them, and Evandar wouldn’t do a thing for them, of course. So I appeared in their cell and told them that things would be better soon.”
It was Jill’s turn for the laugh. “Just like a goddess in an old hymn, comforting prisoners. Dalla, you’ve brought it on yourself.”
“Maybe so. But I’ve managed to change Jahdo’s mind, you know. Once he got a chance to talk with me, he could tell that I’m not some divinity.”
“Jahdo’s got a lot of common sense for a child, but our Meer sees gods everywhere. His people do, after all. That’s what Alshandra took advantage of.”
“And so did Evandar. He deliberately set himself up as a god, too, you know. He’s the one who manifested back in Meer’s home city and sent the bard on his quest in the first place.”
“Here!” Jill snapped. “I never knew that.”
“He told me about it at the time, but I had no idea what he was up to. He loves to speak in riddles. But I’ve pieced the meaning out now. Evandar appeared right in a temple, as bold as brass, and told the priestess to send Meer off on some errand. He’s the one who guided Meer and Jahdo into Deverry and had them take the route that would lead them to Rhodry and his men. Evandar’s up to something, Jill. I don’t know what it is, but he’s got some sort of horribly elaborate strategy in mind to reach some mysterious goal. And he doesn’t care what he does to whom, just so long as he gets what he wants.”
“And you love this man?”
Dallandra rose, pacing back and forth in the wedge-chamber. The displaced gnomes sat down on the floor and pouted.
“I do,” she said at last. “I know it’s daft, but I do. At heart he’s good and warm, but he has no idea of consequences. How could he, Jill? He’s never lived incarnate. He knows nothing of suffering, or frustration, or illness—none of those things have a feather’s weight of meaning for him.”
“Any more than they do for Alshandra.”
“Exactly.”
Jill shuddered and turned on the narrow ledge to better catch the afternoon sun. From her perch, she could see out over the dun to the distant east wall of the city. Beyond that she could just catch a glimpse of white tents and red banners on a little rise, a group that seemed to be the encampment of the Horsekin leaders. She idly wondered if they worshipped their false goddess somewhere among them, or if Alshandra could approach so much iron.
“Dalla, a question