Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [163]
“I did.” Verrarc hesitated for a long moment. “That thing in the sky—the one she did think was her Alshandra? That were the fox-spirit, bain't?”
“It was. I take it you've seen Lord Havoc before?”
“I have.” He paused again, staring at the closed gates on the other side of the commons. “I do wonder if it behooves me to go out to the Horsekin camp.”
“To fetch Raena back?”
“She'll not come back.” Verrarc's voice suddenly thickened with tears. “That I do know deep in my heart. But to speak with her, like, for a last time.”
“I think me that it would be very unwise, Councilman, if not dangerous. What if they took you hostage?”
“I'd not thought of that. Think you they might?”
“I'd not put anything past the Horsekin. At the least, they could disrupt the Deciding that way.”
The candlelight danced so wildly that she reached out and took the lantern from him. He seemed not to notice, even when she raised it to look him in the face. Tears glistened in long trails.
“My heart aches for your grief,” Dallandra said. “But truly, her staying would only have brought you a greater one.”
“I did deem as much. Ah ye gods! I do hope only that the town may forgive me.”
“Well, come now! When you took her in, you couldn't have known the truth of all of this.”
“Oh, no doubt. But—later did I err, and grievously.”
“What? Here, what have you done?”
For a long moment he merely stood, staring down at the water's edge, then raised one arm and wiped the tears from his face. Dallandra waited, fighting the urge to probe.
“It were a thing I did for Raena's sake.” Verrarc spoke at last. “When Zatcheka came, asking for alliance, Raena did beg me to put off the Deciding. And I did what she did ask. Ah gods! Had I not, the town would have had its alliance, and I could have spurned the Horsekin at our gates.”
“I see.”
“But that be the least of it. I did take her in, I did shelter her, I did listen to her lies. This Lord Havoc—I envied her the magicks he did give her. I should have—”
“Should have what?” Dallandra made her voice gentle. “What could you have done about it?”
Startled, Verrarc looked up, blinking in the lantern light.
“Here you were, alone and unmindful,” Dallandra went on. “Did she tell you about the war on Cengarn?”
“She didn't. I heard not a word of that till Zatcheka came.”
“As for Lord Havoc, how were you to know who he might be?”
“Well, his brother did warn me once.”
“Once.”
He managed a faint shadow of a smile.
“It's not all lost yet, you know,” Dallandra said. “I think me that if your people choose the alliances Dar and Zatcheka offer them, the Horsekin will think more than twice about taking your lands. You can't blame yourself for everything.”
“But there be Rae, working more harm, for all I know, and that cursed mazrak too—she did bring him here.”
He was quite right, Dallandra realized. She had no idea of what dweomer Raena and her strange priest might be working, off among the Horsekin. Casually she turned a bit away and glanced down at the water's edge, as if she were merely thinking, but in truth she opened her dweomer sight and called up Raena's image. In the dappled light upon the water the scrying came easily, and she saw Raena quite plainly. Inside a tent dimly lit with silver dweomer light Raena lay on a pile of blankets with the mazrak on top of her, both of them naked. Her head was thrown back and her face, beaded with sweat. Even in vision Dallandra could see the streaks of dirt on his back and hairy haunches.
“Oh curse her!” Verrarc snarled. “The lying slut!”
Too late Dallandra realized that he'd been able to follow her mind's lead and see the vision. With a shake of her head she closed down the sight and turned to see Verrarc trembling, his fists clenched at his sides.
“I'll kill her,” Verrarc whispered. “May the gods of my people rise up and help me kill her!”
“Leave her to me,” Dallandra said. “Leave her to me and the laws of your town!”
“Why? How may I count myself a man if—”
“Hold your tongue!” Dallandra put a snap into her voice. “If you kill a sworn