Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [174]
All around them, the fields of white lilies nodded in a spectral breeze. Under the violet sky the river ran, more mist than water, it seemed. On its farther bank they could see trees, the dark green twists of young cypress.
“Where are we?” Shaetano whined. “Let me go! What are we doing here?”
“Waiting,” Evandar said. “Once before I brought souls here, and they were claimed by those they belonged to.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You'll see.”
Through the mists they heard voices that were more howl than words. Silver horns rang out, and a babble of yells and the baying of hounds.
“Horses!” Shaetano wrenched one arm free and pointed. “I beg you, let me go!”
Evandar laughed and gripped him tighter. Out of the mist galloped the Wild Hunt, mounted on silver horses and riding to silver hounds. The death-pale flowers bobbed and swayed as hooves and paws passed noisily above them. Cloaks glimmering with peacock colors wrapped the riders, and glittering hoods hid their faces. At their head, one rider wore her hood pushed back to free her pale gold hair, adorned with feathers and shells tied into a thicket of narrow braids. Her face shone like the moon, all silver, and her huge blue eyes glared under moon-arch brows. She called out a welcome, then turned her horse and rode straight for them with the Hunt flowing after. Shaetano screamed.
“My Lady of the Beasts!” Evandar cried out. “Take him!” He gathered his strength, swept Shaetano off his feet, and hurled him at her horse. With a peal of laughter she bent down and with one arm scooped him up.
“My thanks!” she called out. “Life he shall have, as the wild things know life, till he earns a true soul a-new!”
In the curl of her arm a fox quivered and yelped. With another long laugh she turned her horse and charged off across the river. In a peal of horns and the baying of hounds, the Hunt followed, plunging into the mists, echoing faintly, and then gone.
“That was well-done.” The voice sounded directly behind him. “Clever, in fact.”
Evandar spun around to find the dark-skinned old man, still carrying his knife and his apple.
“My thanks.” Evandar bowed to him. “Though I begin to wonder, good sir, if you've been following me around.”
“I've not, at that. It's just that every now and then a thought comes to me, like, saying I might want to go look you up and see what you're about.”
“Indeed? And do you come down to the world of men and Time to see what goes on there, too?”
“I don't. I can't.” He laughed, but softly. “I'm dead, you see.”
“Oh.” Evandar stared for a long moment. “I wonder why that never occurred to me. So you must be, good sir.”
“Someday I'll be born again, but until then, the physical world's as closed to me as this world is to most living men.”
“Well, that makes a twisted kind of sense. Farewell to you, good ghost.” Evandar bowed again. “I'm off to settle some other business of mine.”
Since it was too hot for a fire, servants filled the hearth with candle lanterns and hung others from the walls. In this flickering light the Council of Five gathered inside the
Council House to count the colored markers. The witnesses, Kral, Zatcheka, and Prince Dar, sat in chairs near the door. The town criers sat on the floor nearby. His morning's service earned Rhodry a place among them. He leaned back against the cool stone wall and watched as one at a time, Verrarc emptied the urns upon a table. Old Hennis sat nearby with a sheet of parchment and ink to record the tally marks. A scatter of red stones, a slightly larger scatter of white—but black stones poured from the urns and mounded on the table. Zatcheka watched with a studied indifference, but Dar was frankly grinning. He turned Rhodry's way, winked, and said in Elvish, “Looks like we've won.”
For the honor of the thing, however, the councilmen set about counting the markers. They did indeed tally by twelves, Rhodry noticed, just as Carra had predicted. With practiced hands each councilman would whisk a dozen stones onto the floor, then hold up one finger. Hennis would make