The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [42]
“Dalla, ye gods!” Rhodry spoke in Elvish. “Are you ill?”
“No. Just exhausted. I did a working of sorts.”
Rhodry caught her arm and steadied her. Yelling for a servant lass, he steered her across the great hall and over to a table near the honor hearth, where he made her sit with her back to the roaring fire. When Carra and Labanna started to join them, he hurried over to warn them off. Dallandra propped her elbows on the table and supported her head with her hands whilst she watched him, speaking urgently.
“My lady?”
The voice made Dallandra yelp, but it was only a servant girl with a basket of bread in one hand and a tankard in the other. When Dallandra took the tankard, the yeasty scent of watered ale cleared her head.
“My thanks,” Dallandra said. “My apologies if I startled you.”
The girl gave her a wan little smile and ran for the other side of the hall. Being a sorcerer in Deverry must be a lonely sort of life, Dalla thought. She tore a chunk of bread off the loaf and bit off a mouthful. The taste made her realize that she was ravenous. Rhodry came back and sat next to her, watching while she stuffed in the bread like a beggar child.
“You’d best wash that down with a bit of ale,” he remarked after a while. “Or you’ll choke.”
She nodded and had a long swallow.
“That’s better,” Rhodry said, in Elvish this time. “Now, what by the Dark Sun happened to you?”
“I was overwhelmed by a vision.” Dallandra paused for another long swallow of ale. “No, that’s not the right word, but I’m too tired to think of what you’d call a lot of voices, all speaking omens.”
“Can I ask what they were telling you?”
“I couldn’t understand them, actually.” She set the tankard down and considered him—if anyone in the dun could keep a secret, it would be Rhodry. “It didn’t matter. I also heard a raven caw, and that was the heart of the omen. It had to be your old friend, Raena. She means to harm Carra somehow, or more probably the child.”
Rhodry swore in a mix of several languages. Dallandra winced.
“Sorry,” he said. “Raena takes me that way. Why would she want to hurt them? Her wretched false goddess is dead.”
“Does she believe that?”
“Well, I was assuming she would.”
“Why?” Dallandra paused for another swallow of ale. “She carried out Alshandra’s orders to raise an army. If it weren’t for Arzosah, that army might have won, too, with Raena at their head. She’s had glory and excitement both, a thousand times more than any other woman, probably. What makes you think she’ll just meekly go back to her needlework now?”
“True enough.” Rhodry hesitated, thinking. “Well, if she tries to harm either of them, she’ll have to go through me first.”
“Oh, I’m sure she knows that. Why do you think I keep renewing the wards over you?”
“Now there’s a thought. In my vanity I was thinking she hated me for myself, but if she knows I’ve sworn to guard the lass—”
“You did swear a vow like that? Right out loud, I mean.”
“Yes, when Yraen and I met Carra on the road. I saw her, and I knew I was bound to her in some strange way. So I hired myself out to her for a guard.”
“Oh! You mean you swore to guard Carra, not the baby.”
“Well, I suppose I meant the baby as well. I was stinking drunk at the time, and I don’t remember the details.”
“No doubt.” Dallandra yawned, stifled it, then gave up and yawned again. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired.”
“You’d best get some sleep. You still look