Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [159]
Everyone nodded or called out their agreement. The Gel da'Thae men turned to look at Zatcheka. When she waved a hand, they left, bowing to Dallandra as they silently left the gathering. The men of the Westfolk began talking among themselves; someone suggested a song, others went to the tent to bring out food for a meal. Niffa and Carra stood off to one side, talking together while Lightning lay at his mistress's feet. Dallandra hurried over and joined them.
“Where's Elessi?” she said.
“Dar has her.” Carra pointed. “I told him I'd carried her all day, and it was his turn, prince or no.”
They shared a laugh.
“Lady Zatcheka did invite us to her tent,” Niffa said. “I were wondering, be it a right thing for us to go? She does but wish to properly introduce us to her daughter.”
“By all means, do go,” Dallandra said. “What a courteous gesture, truly!”
Dallandra would have walked over to the Gel da'Thae camp with them, but Rhodry came out of the tent. She sent Niffa and Carra on in her place and stopped to speak with him.
“Where's Evandar?”
“Gone.” Rhodry shrugged open-handed. “I never know where he goes to.”
“Back to his own lands, I suppose. He doesn't deign to tell me, either. What are you going to do now?”
“Go over to the island and see if Arzosah's returned.”
“Won't you stay here and eat with us?”
Rhodry considered this for a moment.
“I will,” he said at last. “I've no idea when she'll get back.”
“I'd guess that Raena waited for her to go off hunting before she left Verrarc's house.”
“No doubt. The stupid meddling bitch!”
“Oh here, she's been thoroughly misled and deceived by her false goddess. You can't lay all the evil at Raena's door.”
“I can and I will. I'm half-tempted to drag her into a law court myself.”
“For what?”
Rhodry started to answer, then hesitated, thinking.
“I don't know,” he said at last. “I just know that I've hated her for a cursed long time now, and I'm as sure as I can be without proof that she's the cause of Yraen's death.”
“Well, in a way I suppose she was. And we know she's a traitor to Cerr Cawnen.”
“Better yet, everyone in Cerr Cawnen knows it.” Rhodry paused for one of his terrifying smiles. “And no doubt they'd like to get their hands on her, too.”
“Just so. Most likely that's why she's left the city.”
“She what?”
“Didn't you see her? No, of course not—you were in the tent by then. She wouldn't listen to what I was trying to say, and she ran out of the gates. Kral and his hairy pack were waiting for her.”
“Indeed? And what will Verrarc think of that? Poor bastard! Ensnared by a bitch like that!”
Together they turned and looked up at the western sky. By then the sunset was gilding Citadel, rising dark from the encircling mists of the lake. And what was the Council of Five thinking of all this commotion, with fake goddesses in the sky and suchlike? Dallandra wondered, but most of all, she wondered about Verrarc.
When the apparitions first appeared in the sky, Verrarc was talking with Cronin and Emla, the weavers who supplied him with most of his trade goods. Although he'd stopped by only for a brief word, Emla had insisted on his coming into their reception chamber, a pleasant room with chairs and a big hearth. They were still in mourning for their second son, Demet, Niffa's late husband; Cronin said little, in fact, merely sat slumped in his wooden chair and stared at the wall while his wife talked with the councilman.
“This be one sorrow too many for my man,” Emla said at length. “First the losing of our son, and now the Horsekin. I know not what to think, Verro, except for one thing. I'll not be dropping my shard in that rakzan creature's urn.”
“I think me that be wise. Kral did talk about taking over our pasturelands for horses, bain't? There would be precious little left for sheep then.”
“Just so. I—” Emla paused at the banging of an outside door. “What be all this?”
Shouting for her mother, young Cotzi came running down the