Kings of the North - Elizabeth Moon [130]
“Should I call alarm?” Aliam asked.
Kieri extended his taig-sense. There—the garden wall. The house? He could not be sure. But the garden wall and … the back wall of the stable.
“Do not say the name loudly, Sir King,” Arian said quietly. She was watching the garden wall. “It must not know we know.”
“Quietly, then,” Kieri said to Aliam and Cal. “Do not go into the stable yourself, Cal, but have your grooms bring the horses out—to—to show me their paces in the field, especially any in the south aisle stalls.”
“We haven’t been able to keep horses in there since late winter,” Aliam said. “They fret, but we couldn’t find anything wrong. What about the house?”
“Move everyone from the garden side, just in case.”
“Outside,” Arian murmured. “A picnic?”
“It’s a clear day,” Kieri said. “Let’s make a party in the meadow, watching the horses. Tell Estil.” Into Aliam’s ear he murmured, “Daskdraudigs.” Aliam startled, then nodded.
Aliam went back inside; Kieri watched the garden wall. Were the seams between the stones moving? He couldn’t tell, for the cover of vines and the branches of trees espaliered there. He remembered Paks had said only daskin arrows could kill one. Arian stood near him, saying nothing; Kieri had bade the other Squires help bring out the picnic.
People streamed from the house. One of Aliam’s daughters-in-law shepherded a string of giggling children, all carrying bundles, out the gate. Grooms led horses from the stable, held them back while another gaggle of children scampered past with pillows on their heads.
Would the daskdraudigs know alarm had been given? Would it wait to strike? And how did it do what it did? Kieri stood still, trying to feel the extent of the danger without alerting it, as more people, more animals, passed behind him and out of the main courtyard to what he hoped was safety. Aliam’s older grandsons and some of his soldiers lugged the big camp tents and their poles … Estil herself, bow slung on her back, had one end of a pole on which two steaming kettles hung; another daughter-in-law held the other end. Back and forth, back and forth. Kieri watched another flake or two fall off the wall, sparkling in the slanting light, until the garden enclosure had lost the sun for the day.
Thundering hooves caught his attention; he did not look away, but heard one of his Squires greet the newcomers. In moments, two rangers were beside him. “Sir King?” one said.
“Arian says it’s a daskdraudigs,” Kieri said softly. “I think it’s taken the south stable wall and most of the wall around the kitchen garden. Bless your speed in coming.”
“We knew you were here,” one ranger said. “We came to see and met Aliam’s granddaughter on the way. We sent her on to our camp, to fetch the others. A daskdraudigs? They almost never invade set stone.”
“It is, though,” the other said. “And something drew it, some lure.” He unslung his bow and looked through his quiver.
“Sir King, you must withdraw,” Arian said. “You have no weapon to deal with a daskdraudigs, and I have but the one daskin arrow.”
Kieri obeyed, joining Aliam and his family across the field from the compound. “It’s definitely a daskdraudigs,” he said then. “And they think it was lured here.”
“Something Achrya left?” Estil asked.
“No doubt,” Aliam said. “Thank all the gods you came to visit, Kieri.”
“Indeed,” Kieri said, watching across the field. The rangers reappeared, one on the roof of the house and one on the forecourt’s wall. He saw them draw their bows, the streaking flight of arrows. Then the monster moved. The ranger on the house roof staggered and fell as the south wall of the house heaved up and sideways, breaking roof-beams like twigs and sending slates down in a rattling cascade.
Estil and the other women gathered the children into a knot, closing them in and comforting those who began to cry. Aliam’s soldiers looked to him, but he held them back. “Can’t fight that with swords,” he said. “They know what they’re doing, the rangers. But be ready to move back if we need to.”
The monster’s other end, the south stable wall, rose and came