Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [152]
“Chief Speaker,” Zatcheka said, “be it lawful for me to address your people?”
“It is.” Admi made her a bow and stepped back.
“I do have but one thing to say.” Zatcheka turned to face the crowd. “There be no need upon you to choose between the alliance my town does offer you and the prince's offer. We would count ourselves honored to join an alliance twixt your people and his.”
In the crowd a fair number of people clapped in appreciation. Others nodded, and the talk began, murmuring among the women first, then spreading to the men. Admi raised his hands, got ignored, and called out that the meeting was over in a voice as loud as booming brass. The talk grew loud and anxious as the women stood, collecting children, looking around for their menfolk. In a long slow milling about the crowd began to disperse.
“I'd best join the others,” Verrarc said.
Dallandra nearly yelped, she'd forgotten all about the councilman.
“Indeed,” she said. “This is quite a turn of events.”
Verrarc tried to smile but succeeded only in looking terrified. And with good reason, Dallandra thought. With all the reason in the world.
“The gall!” Raena grabbed a pottery cup from the table and threw it at the wall. “I do hate him! How dare he!”
The cup shattered with a fine spray of dust. Verrarc grabbed her wrist when she reached for another.
“It be needful for you to spare my crockery,” he said. “Hush, Rae! Eat your dinner and calm your soul.”
With a snarling sound she pulled her hand away, but she let the dinnerware be. They were sitting in the little alcove near the kitchen in Verrarc's house, and before them on the table sat a steaming pot of venison stew, a loaf of bread, and a pitcher of beer. Verrarc ladled the stew onto the trencher they shared while she cut hunks of bread.
“The Prince of the Westfolk be a well-spoken man,” Verrarc said. “There be no surprise in my heart that the Horsekin did listen.”
“He lied to them! Children of the gods—my arse! They be men like any other, for all their ugly ears.”
“So it would seem. Why does Kral think otherwise?”
“It be a legend among the Horsekin, that their ancestors did overthrow the children of the gods long long ago, and because of this sin the gods did send upon them a terrible plague that did slay them by the thousands. If any man, either Gel da'Thae or Horsekin, should ever harm another child of the gods, then the plague will return. Or so they say. They call it Ranadar's curse.”
“No wonder then that they did grovel. That jewel, Rae—never did I see such a wondrous thing, the way it burned without true fire.”
“Had I been allowed to be there, I might have doused it.”
“Had the black dragon eaten you, you'd have doused naught ever again.”
She scowled at him, then laid the loaf back in its basket. Verrarc took a chunk and bit into it while she daintily sliced hers thin.
“So, the prince of the Westfolk be here,” Raena said at length. “Tell me somewhat, my love. His wife, a pretty blonde lass—be she here with him?”
“She is, truly, and with her their child.”
“Ah, truly, the babe would have been born by now.” For a long moment she stared at the wall with the bread knife still in her hand.
“What be so wrong?” Verrarc said at last. “Be you well?”
“My apologies, my love.” Raena smiled at him and laid the knife down. “I did but remember a thing Nag-arshad did tell me once, about a vow to our goddess that would tame the Horsekin's hearts. There be a need on me to speak with Kral. I swear to you, Verro, if they make this vow to the Great One, that never will they enslave your fellows, they would die rather than break it. Curse that meddling wyrm! Mayhap she'll hunt tonight, and I may leave the house then.”
“If you do go to see the rakzan,” Verrarc said, “I come with you.”
“You'll not! This be my goddess's affair and none of yours!”
“Oh, bain't? You did promise me—”
“I did promise to tell you what I do know and naught more than that!”
“I'll not have you trotting off to the Horsekin camp alone!”
Raena shoved back her chair and stood up, crossing her arms