Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [10]
“This thing be as important as that?” Lael broke in.
Meer turned slightly in the direction of Councilman Verrarc, just a brief involuntary gesture. Fortunately Verrarc was whispering to one of the militiamen and, at least, seemed to notice nothing.
“It is to me. To no one else, mayhap. My mother laid a geas upon me concerning my brother, and I have reason to believe he’s gone east.”
To Jahdo the bard’s voice sounded entirely too smooth, too glib, making him wonder if Meer was lying, but he supposed that he might have felt that way because he too had something to hide from the councilman. As he thought of Verrarc, he felt words bursting from his mouth.
“Mam, I want to go.”
The moment he spoke he was horrified, but there was no taking the words back. Dera threw her hands into the air and keened aloud, just one brief sob of sound, quickly stifled. Lael turned to him, his mouth working.
“If we do owe this thing under treaty,” Lael said at last. “And if you want to go, well, then, there be naught much your mother and I can say about it. But be you sure, lad? At your age and all, how can you know your own mind?”
Jahdo felt his entire body trembling, trying to squeeze out the words his traitor mouth refused to speak; no, no, I didn’t mean it, I don’t want to go, I don’t. His heart pounded the words like a drum, but he could not speak.
“He smells great things on the move, my good man,” Meer said. “Even a child may sense destiny.”
“Destiny?” Dera spat out the word. “Hogwash and turnip wine!”
“My good woman, please. With luck we’ll never even cross the Slavers’ border.”
“Hah! That sort of luck does have a way of running short. I’m not letting my lad—”
All at once Dera stopped speaking. Meer caught him-self as he was about to speak, as well, and turned, moving his huge head from side to side as if he were straining to hear some small sound. Jahdo realized that he himself was— that they all were—turning to Niffa, staring at Niffa, even though she’d said not a word. Her face had gone dead-pale, and in the broken torchlight her eyes seemed huge pools of shadow, as empty as those of the bard himself. Demet grabbed her arm to steady her.
“Let him go, Mam.” Her voice was a hollow whisper. “He’ll be safer there than here.”
Involuntarily Jahdo glanced at Verrarc, standing just behind her, and saw the strangest smile on the councilman’s face. It reminded him of a playmate caught cheating in a game. Dera considered for a long moment, taking her daughter’s strange pronouncement seriously, as indeed she always did whenever Niffa came out with one. For a moment she seemed about to speak; then she burst into tears and rushed off, dodging her way through the remnant of crowd. Swearing under his breath, Kiel followed her.
“Well, then, that’s settled.” Rubbing his hands together, Verrarc stepped forward. “Lael, since your son’s fulfilling an obligation for the entire town, the council will of course provide him with a pony and such supplies as he’ll be needing for this journey. Meer, the chief speaker and I did think that we could spare you some armed guards as well, a squad of militia, say, and some packhorses.”
“You can’t spare them, Councilman,” Meer said. “That’s the point of my journey here, wasn’t it now? Besides, the child and I will be safer on our own. I know a trick or two about smelling my way to safety when I have to. If need be, the lad and I can always hide in wild places, but hiding a whole pack of armed men in the forest is beyond me.”
“Hiding?” Lael stepped forward. “From what? Now wait just a moment, good bard. I had no idea—”
“Da!” Niffa snapped. “It’s needful that you let him go.”
“Come now, my good sir,” Meer said. “The lore teaches that one of the fifty-two fixed things is this: when women lay down the law, men must do as we’re told.”
Lael turned to him, utterly baffled by this statement, a gesture, of course, lost on the bard.
“He does agree,” Niffa broke in. “Jahdo, come home