Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [51]
“Now,” Jill said. “Meer, I know that you’re a prisoner of wan For me to question you about your homeland goes contrary to all the laws of honor, but I’m desperate enough to try.”
Meer merely grunted and fanged a rasher.
“Consider the evil that your own people will suffer,” Jill went on. “This false goddess will lead them into great harm.”
“My own people realize that very thing, mazrak,” Meer said with his mouth full. “With the exception of my ill-begotten foal of a brother, she has no followers there.”
Jill hesitated, cocking her head to one side, honestly puzzled.
“It’s the wild tribes,” Jahdo said. “The ones in the north, not Meer’s people in the west. That’s where all the prophets do come from.”
“The what?” Jill turned to him with her icicle stare, stabbing into his very soul. “Where is this?”
Jahdo felt suddenly sick. Deep in his mind a memory tried to rise, another pair of ice-blue eyes, another stare that had pinned him down. He whimpered and broke away, flinging up a hand as if to ward a blow. Meer turned toward him with a questioning sort of growl.
“Here, lad!” Jill’s voice softened, and her eyes were normal again. “I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry if I frightened you. I never knew there was such a thing as wild tribes, you see, till this very moment, and it took me by surprise, like.”
“All right.” He was surprised to find his voice steady. “Meer, may I tell her about the tribes? Or would that be dishonorable? I be worried about what’s going to happen to my own people if they get attacked and stuff. My father says we should always be scared of them, you know.”
The bard considered, wiping his mouth on the back of one hairy hand, while Jill merely sat and waited for his decision. In the strong sunlight she seemed more frail than ever, as if her skin and flesh were translucent. Jahdo found himself thinking of bayberry candle wax.
“I will speak for us both,” Meer said at last. “The tribes may be Horsekin, but they’re no allies of the Gel da’Thae. If they’ve gone over to the false goddess, then they be enemies indeed.”
“My thanks, good bard.” Jill sounded profoundly relieved. “Is there a difference between Horsekin and Gel da’Thae?”
“Of a sort. We were all the same people, though a people made up of warring tribes, in a past very long gone indeed. But now my people live in the ruined cities of the Children of the Gods, while the wild tribes still roam the untamed plains of the north with their horse herds. Ah, the plains! The treasure that we Gel da’Thae have lost! And cursed poor custodians the wild tribes have proved for it, too. Huh, they dare to wage war without any of the proper rituals and procedures. In war it behooves a man to be ruthless, but they’ve stooped to using any and every weapon at their disposal, including the four evil magicks and the seven cowards’ tricks. You wouldn’t be alone there, mazrak.”
Jahdo flinched, hoping that Jill wasn’t about to blast Meer with lightning or suchlike, but she merely smiled.
“I see,” she said. “And it’s those tribes who worship Alshandra?”
“They do, indeed.”
“Ah, things are beginning to fall into place. Now, when you say the wild tribes are to the north, do you mean due north or north and west?”
“North and west. Not so far west for my folk, though far, far west from here.”
“One last thing, Meer. What do you mean when you say ruined cities of the Children of the Gods?”
“That I will not tell you.”
“Very well. Let me guess. Long, long ago the Horsekin conquered seven rich cities, filled with marvels, and in their rage and ignorance destroyed them utterly. Jo this day the people known as Gel da’Thae eke out their lives near the remains of the beauty they destroyed.”
Meer tossed back his head and howled, a thin keen of rage and mourning mingled. She be dweomer indeed! Jahdo thought, to ken such things and them as old as old. Jill smiled, sitting calm and easy, until Meer at last fell silent. For a moment he turned his head this way and that, focused at last on the sound of her breathing,