Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [103]
“Meer did promise us,” Jahdo said to the mule. “And he were killed by that demon-get archer. Then did Jill say the same, and she died. I do wonder, truly, if we be some sort of curse.”
Gidro snorted in a blow of water drops, as if to tell him to stop talking nonsense.
Sure enough, some hours before the sun hit its zenith the travellers assembled in the ward or above it, in the case of Rhodry and Arzosah, who stood ready to fly on the roof of the main broch. The dun turned out in force to see them off. Gwerbret Cadmar and his lady stood in the doorway; the servants and the warband clustered round out in the ward. Prince Dalanteriel on a splendid black horse headed the line of march. Beside him, riding Gwerlas, her dun gelding, Princess Carra held the baby in a leather sling across her chest. Behind them came an escort of ten mounted archers leading pack mules with supplies for the journey, Dallandra mounted on a grey palfrey, and Jahdo himself, riding his mule and leading a laden Bahkti—all in all they made an impressive expedition, as Dallandra remarked.
“I'm so glad we're leaving,” she told Jahdo. “I hope I never spend another winter in a stone tent.”
“And so do I hope, my lady,” Jahdo said. “And I'll pray we don't go meeting any Horsekin on the road, too.”
“We'll have the best scout in the world to protect us.”
Dallandra pointed at the dragon and her rider. As if in answer, Arzosah spread her wings, leapt, and flew, circling the dun once and heading off to the west.
“They'll keep circling round us,” Dallandra went on. “And then they'll join us for the evening camps. Any stray Horsekin will be sorry they rode our way if Arzosah gets hold of them.”
Up at the head of the line, Prince Daralanteriel raised his silver horn and blew one long note. The horses tossed their heads and danced in anticipation.
“Farewell to Cengarn!” he called out. “Men, ready and march!”
In a flood of laughter and farewells, the travellers set out, walking their horses sedately through the dun's great iron-bound gates and down the twisty streets of the city beyond. Jahdo felt as if they were creeping like snails, but they reached the towering walls and the open gates at last. With one final round of waves and farewells, they rode out into the green countryside. Jahdo laughed aloud in sheer relief.
“So far so good,” he said to Dallandra.
The western road ran across the flat grassy meadows at the foot of Dun Cengarn's cliffs. They rode past the mass graves from last summer's fighting, long low mounds like welts from a flogging on the grassy skin of the earth. Jahdo was glad to leave them behind, but one more grim memory awaited him. When they splashed across the ford of the stream where Jill had died, he had to swallow hard to choke back tears.
“We all miss her.” Dallandra had noticed. “It's no wrong thing to weep, you know.”
“I do know. But truly, I've had so much to weep over this year past that I be sick to my gullet of tears.”
“No doubt! Well, let's hope that better times are coming for you.”
“I do hope so every day. Tell me, my lady, if it be no burden upon you, will Evandar come and make our journey shorter?”
“He will, but not till tomorrow. We want to be well clear of settled country first.”
They did indeed travel through farmland for most of that day. Out in the fields the farmers were planting the seed corn from the king's own stock, and Jahdo noticed how carefully they went about it. No broadcasting by the hand-fuls here—men and women stooped to trickle a line of the precious seeds into plowed furrows while the children followed along, covering the grains with earth and driving off the circling birds.
By twilight they'd left the farms behind. Dar called for a halt in a last stretch of meadow near the forest edge, where a stream ran clean for water. The men were unloading the packhorses when Arzosah returned, gliding down to settle some distance away. Jahdo saw Rhodry slide gracefully from