Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [6]
“Here, lad!” Lael grabbed him. “This be a bit dangerous for someone your size. Hang on, and I’ll lift you up.”
“Da! I didn’t even see you.”
“Ah, but I did see you, and I was heading your way.”
Riding secure on his father’s shoulders Jahdo at last discovered the cause of the commotion, A pair of merchants on horseback, a pack of ordinary guards, and a string of heavily laden mules had all marched by when, at the very end of the line, a manlike figure strode in, leading an enormous white horse laden with sacks and bundles. It was one of the Gel da’Thae, swinging a stout staff back and forth and side to side in front of him as he walked, as if he were clearing something out of his path.
He stood perhaps seven feet tall, roughly man-shaped with two shortish but sturdy legs, a long torso, two long arms, and a face with recognizable manlike features—but he was no man nor dwarf, either. His skin was as pale as milk in the places where it appeared between the lacings of his tight leather shirt and trousers, but his black hair was as coarse and bristling straight as a boar’s. At the bridge of his enormous nose his eyebrows grew together in a sharp V and merged into his hairline. His hair itself plumed up, then swept back and down over his long skull to cascade to his waist — Here and there in this mane hung tiny braids, tied off with thongs and little charms and amulets. The backs of his enormous hands were furred with stubby black hair, too. His cheeks, however, were hairless, merely tattooed all over in a complex blue and purple pattern of lines and circles.
As he walked, he turned his head this way and that, to listen rather than look, because where eyes should have gleamed under his furred brows were only empty sockets, pale and knotted with scars,
“Oh!” Jahdo spoke without thinking, in his piping boy’s voice that cut through the noise of the crowd, “He be blind.”
With a toss of his maned head the Gel da’Thae stopped walking in front of Lael and swung toward the sound of Jahdo’s voice. He bared strong white teeth, with more than a hint of fang about the incisors,
“Do you mock me, lad?” Although he spoke in the language of the Rhiddaer, his voice growled out and rumbled, echoing back and forth like the waves of a storm slapping off a pier,
“Never, never,” Jahdo stammered, “I be truly sorry. I were just so surprised,”
“No doubt. But you’re an ill-mannered little cub nonetheless.”
“I am, sir, truly, and I’ll try to learn better.”
“Ill-mannered and cowardly to boot.” The Gel da’ Thae paused, sniffing the air. “Huh. I sense a man carrying you. Are you the lad’s father?”
“I am,” Lael said, and his voice was steady and cold. “And I’ll speak for him. He be no coward, sir. He be shamed that he might have wounded your feelings.”
The Gel da’Thae grunted, tucked his staff under one arm, and reached out an enormous hand to pat the side of Lael’s face. He reached higher, found Jahdo’s arm and patted that, then took his hand away and smelt his own palm.
“Huh, sure enough, I sense no fear on the lad, but by all the gods and demons, as well, the pair of you stink of ferrets!”
“So we do, no doubt. You’ve got a keen nose.”
“Hah! I may be blind, but a man would have to be dead to miss that scent.” He seemed to be smiling, pulling thin lips back from his fangs. “Well, a good day to you both and your weasel friends as well.”
With a whistle to the huge horse, the Gel da’ Thae walked off, tapping his way with the staff as he followed the jingling of the caravan along the curve of the lake, where a grassy stretch of shore was set aside for traveling merchants. Lael swung Jahdo down with a grunt.
“You’d best mind your mouth after this, lad. You always did have a cursed big one.”
“I know, Da, and I truly, truly be sorry.”
“No doubt. But the last thing we do want is to give insult to one of the Horsekin. That’s all they need, one word for a thin excuse, and they cry war. I hate to see one of them here for just that reason. If that bard goes taking offense, we’ll have his clan riding