Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [100]
“An honor,” Yvaedd squeaked. “Quite an honor. Ah, that is—ah—” He turned and dashed for the broch.
The king's men hesitated, glanced at the dragon, then raced after their lord. Rhodry began to laugh; he leaned back against the dragon's foreleg and howled until the tears came. She let out her breath in a long and meat-scented sigh.
“I'd forgotten about humans,” Arzosah said. “You're the only brave one I've ever met, Rori Dragonfriend. And maybe that's why I came back to you.”
“I don't think there's any reason for us to stay much longer,” Dallandra said. “Prince Dar tells me that Lord Yvaedd's gone suddenly tractable.”
“Tractable?” Rhodry said.
“He believes everything he's told and has his scribe write it down most carefully.”
They shared a smile, and the dragon rumbled under her breath. They were all sitting on the new grass atop the market hill, where Arzosah could stretch out comfortably and take the sun. Since the townsfolk knew her well from the summer past, they mostly ignored her, although a pair of big tan hounds had taken up a watch at a distance and barked now and again. Arzosah eyed them and licked her lips.
“I suppose those belong to someone,” she said.
“No doubt,” Rhodry said. “Leave them be.”
“Very well.” Arzosah yawned and curled a paw to consider her claws. “Now about our journey. No doubt the hatchling wants to get home—young Jahdo. By the by, he polished my scales with a cloth this morning. A very sweet child, he is.”
“He is, truly,” Dallandra said. “We've got a lot of things to work out yet. You and Rhodry will be able to travel a great deal faster than the rest of us. It's a long way to Cerr Cawnen, judging from what Jahdo's been telling me. We'll need provisions and suchlike.”
“But can't Evandar open one of his roads?” Rhodry asked. “They seem to save a good bit of effort, though I can't say the same about the time involved. That always seems to get a bit twisted.”
“He told me he'd open a gate for us when I saw him some while ago. I've not seen him since then. I've been trying to call him again, but he's not shown up. I hope he's in no danger.”
At that Arzosah hissed, just quietly to herself.
“I know you don't care for him,” Dallandra said to her.
“Don't care for him?” Arzosah hissed again, more loudly. “I'd eat him if I could. If there was anything really there to eat, anyway. Nasty bastard, tricking me the way he did. Humph!”
“Not so nice of him, but I can't help but be grateful,” Dallandra said. “Without you, we would have lost the war, and the Horsekin would have impaled us all or staked us down to die.”
“He might have just asked me for my help.”
“Would you have given it?” Rhodry said.
“No, but he might have asked anyway. Then when he ensorceled me it would have been only fair.”
“There's a certain logic in that, truly.” Dallandra rose, dusting off the seat of her leather trousers. “I need to get back to the dun. I'll talk with Jahdo.”
As she walked off, Dallandra glanced back to see Rhodry leaning back comfortably against the dragon's scaly side. Arzosah had curled herself into a semicircle with her head on her paws near him. The man and the dragon made an oddly apt pair, she thought—both of them as cold and hard as winter steel despite their good humor toward those they counted friends.
Evandar turned up that night, finally, near sunset. They met outside the dun and town, down in the meadow to the west where a stream splashed and gurgled, running full of snowmelt. In the last golden light of afternoon they strolled beside trees touched with the green of new leaves.
“Jill died in this spot,” Evandar said abruptly.
“I know,” Dallandra said. “I rather wondered why you chose it.”
He shrugged and walked on, his head bent as if he studied the grass.
“I was worried about you, my love,” Dallandra said.
“My apologies. I was off arranging things.”
“Things? What do you mean, things?”
“Rhodry's brother, of course,