Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [162]
Dera tried to smile, then turned away sharply, fumbling with the hem of her apron. Jahdo knew that she was crying, but since she'd gone to the trouble of trying to hide it from him, he said nothing. In a moment she went back to trimming the mould off the turnips.
“Dera?”
Jahdo nearly screamed. Verrarc had opened the door and stepped in, so quietly, so suddenly that he'd never noticed the councilman there.
“Well, come you in, Verro,” Dera said. “But how you did startle us!”
“My apologies.”
Carrying a candle lantern, Verrarc came in very slowly, very carefully, looking round him at each step. In the grey light he seemed grey, himself, his blond hair as dead and matted as the fur of a sick animal, his eyes deep pools of shadow in his pallid face. He sat down on the wooden bench by the table to watch Dera work.
“Be you ill?” she said, and sharply.
“Not truly. I've not slept much, these past nights.”
“Have any of us? But you do look like weasel bait.”
Something of a smile formed on his mouth, then vanished.
“Mayhap I do,” he said. “It weighs on me worse than most, this threat from the Horsekin.”
“There be a charge on you to turn it aside, of course.”
He winced and began to tremble. Dera put down the knife and shoved a wisp of hair back from her face with her little finger.
“What be so wrong?” she said, softening her voice. “I meant not but that the council's got the responsibility of looking after the town. The charge lies on the whole council, not only you.”
“I know.” His voice cracked and broke. “Forgive me? Please, Dera. Forgive me?”
He got up, took his lantern, and rushed out. As he turned in the doorway to squeeze his way out of the alley, Jahdo got a glimpse of his face, dead-white and streaming tears. Dera stared after him a long, long time.
“Now what does lie behind that?” she said. “The poor lad! He did start life wounded, and he be as weak as a split stick. May his father's spirit walk in pain forever!”
“Mam!” Jahdo slung the furious Ambo over one shoulder and scrambled to his feet. “You don't think a madness lies on Verrarc, do you?”
“What? Of course not! Mind your silly tongue!”
But the crack and quaver in her voice told him that she lied.
“Be it a fit thing for me to ask questions?” Niffa blurted.
“It is,” Dallandra said, smiling, “and I'll wager you've got a lot of them.”
They were standing together at the edge of the elven camp. A pale greenish twilight was gathering in the sky, and mists drifted out on the water as the night cooled. Behind them in the camp firelight suddenly bloomed. They walked only a few yards away in order to stay within reach of the firelight. Dallandra realized that no one was going to follow them to eavesdrop, anyway. No doubt the men had seen too much strange dweomer already to wish to hear of more.
“Now then,” Dalla said. “Where do you want me to start?”
“Well,” Niffa said, “you did say somewhat about other parts of the universe. I do know this part, where we stand and see and suchlike. What be the others?”
“Ye gods! You don't want to begin with an easy question, do you?”
“My apologies. I be grateful for any lore you do choose to tell me, so there be no need on you to start there if—”
Abruptly Niffa stopped talking. When Dallandra turned, wondering what had silenced her apprentice, she saw Verrarc, walking along the lakeshore and heading for them. He carried a candle lantern as if it were a heavy burden. Something, at least, was making him stagger like an old man.
“I think me,” Dallandra said, “that the workings of the universe will have to wait for a bit. Niffa, go back to camp.”
Niffa obeyed her without a murmur. Dallandra hurried to meet Verrarc. They stood at the edge of the lake, where the water lapped onto the sand with a noise like drops falling. The speckled light from his lantern danced around them from the shaking of his hand.
“Are you looking for Raena?” Dallandra said.
“I am,” Verrarc said. “Though I think me she did go off to the Horsekin camp.”
“I saw her run that way, truly, after her false goddess disappeared.