Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [136]
“Here,” Rhodry said, “are you all right?”
“I am, my apologies. Just thinking.”
“That's a good idea in times like these. But let's go steal Tek-Tek's treasure before you forget again.”
“She'll not like that. I'd best find a trinket to give her in return.”
“I've got a coin or two. I'll trade her.”
With the talisman safe in his coin pouch, Rhodry left Arzosah sleeping in the sun on the ruins of the temple and went down to the lakeshore. Since he'd been raised in Aberwyn, boats held no mysteries for him, and he paddled across fast to the welter of houses on their pilings and crannogs. By asking people here and there for directions, he found his way to the town commons and Daralanteriel's camp. The prince's guard were sitting out in the grass near their horses and squabbling over dice games, while the prince himself paced up and down by the lakeshore. At his throat the gold chain of Ranadar's Eye glinted in the sun, but he'd tucked the actual pendant inside his tunic. There was no sign of Carra and the baby, but Rhodry noticed that the tent-flap hung closed.
“Ah, there you are,” Daralanteriel said in Elvish. “Is everything going well up on Citadel?”
“As well as it can be,” Rhodry said. “The townsfolk seem to have taken the dragon in their stride. Dalla and the local priestess have shut themselves up for a talk.”
“What about Raena?”
“She's not back yet. She may not have been heading for Cerr Cawnen when we saw her. What if she's bolted? If she's off among the Meradan, we'll never be able to fetch her back.”
“True, but if she has to live among them for the rest of her life I'll count her well punished. It creeped my flesh, seeing Dalla talking with that wretched Mera woman.”
“Well, here, now!” Rhodry made his voice sound as quietly reasonable as he could. “You remember Meer, don't you? He was a man like any other. It behooves us to treat his mother—”
“I never trusted that hairy bastard. How do you know he wasn't sending messages to the Meradan sieging Cengarn?”
“Why would they have killed him if he was their spy?”
“Well, maybe they didn't trust him either. By the Dark Sun! How can you expect me to tolerate these people? Don't you remember that they wanted to kill my Carra and the baby both?”
“Well, that's true, isn't it? But those were Horsekin, not Gel da'Thae.”
“I don't care about fine distinctions.”
“Only the Horsekin worship Alshandra. She's the one who wanted Carra dead. Well, in truth it was the baby she wanted slain. I doubt if Carra mattered to her one way or the other.”
“I don't find that particularly comforting.”
“Well, try! The Gel da'Thae wish no harm to you or yours.”
Dar set his mouth in a tight line and looked away, glaring at the lake. At his temple one vein throbbed, and he laid a hand on his tunic, rubbing the pendant through the cloth. He was, Rhodry supposed, thinking about the deaths of his royal ancestors.
“Ah well,” Rhodry said at last. “Promise me one thing? Don't do anything rash.”
“Anything murderous, you mean?”
“Just that.”
For a moment Dar scowled down at the grass, then he shrugged and looked up.
“Very well,” Dar said. “You have my word on it.”
“That's good enough for me.”
And yet Rhodry felt trouble gathering. Dar had, after all, been raised for a revenge that had seemed impossible to gain, out on the grasslands. Now here the ancient enemies were, close at hand.
It was late in the day when Raena finally did return, though not in any way that Verrarc might have expected. The councilman had gone down to the walls to discuss with Sergeant Gart the matter of raising and arming a larger militia. Together they climbed a wooden ladder to the catwalks that ran just below the top of the stonework. On folded arms Verrarc leaned onto the stone and looked west across farmland, pale green with new-sprouted grain.
“One good thing about this town,” Gart said. “We'll never lack for water no matter how long they besiege us.”
“True spoken. With enough food stored up, I think me we could