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By Root 708 0

much longer, and the only painkilller the leech could offer him was a goblet of strong mead. It was some hours before Perryn could leave the leech’s shop and stagger back to his inn on the outskirts of Leryn. He flopped down on the bed in his chamber and stared miserably at the ceiling while his mind circled endlessly round and round like a donkey tied to a mill wheel: what was he going to do? The thought of returning to Cerrgonney to face his uncle’s scorn made him feel physically sick to his stomach. And there was Jill. It seemed as the days went by that he loved her more than ever, that he’d never appreciated what he had until he’d lost it. Thinking that most men were no different about those they loved was no consolation. If only he could talk to her, beg her to let him explain, tell her how much he loved her—he was sure she would listen, if only he could get her alone, if only he could get her away from that fellow with the terrifying stare and the even more terrifying dweomer. If only. He didn’t even know which way they’d gone.

Or could he find her? In his muddled state, half mad with pain and the aftermath of the leech’s mead, he found himself thinking of her as his heart’s true home, and with the thought came the pull, the sharp tug at his mind that had always shown him the way to other homes. Slowly, minding his aching jaw, he sat up on the bed and went very still. Truly, he could feel it: south. She’d gone south. He wept, but this time in rising hope, that he could track her down, follow her along until he had a chance alone with her, and somehow—oh, by great Kerun himself—steal her back again.

“Now this is passing strange,” Salamander announced. “Rhodry’s still heading south, but by the ears of Epona’s steed, why is he taking every rotten cow path and village lane instead of riding on the king’s good roads?”

Jill turned to look at him. They were sitting on the bow of a river barge, and Salamander was using the foaming, sun-flecked waters as a focus for scrying. Since she still was seeing with power, the water seemed like solid, carved silver, but she could remind herself now that what she was seeing was only illusionary. She refused to believe that she was seeing a hidden reality no matter how often Salamander insisted on it.

“Does he seem to be looking for a hire?”

“Not in the least, and I’ve been watching him for two days now. It seems that he knows where he’s going, but he’s being cursed careful on the way.” With an irritable toss of his head, he looked away from the river. “Well, I’ll spy out the esteemed brother again later. How are you feeling this morn?”

“A lot better. At least things are holding still most of the time.”

“Good. Then my unpracticed cure is actually working.”

“You have my heartfelt thanks, truly.”

For a while she idly watched the southern horizon, where Lughcarn’s smoke hung like a tiny cloud. She wished that she could simply forget about Perryn, that Salamander had some magic that would wipe her mind clean of his memory, but she knew that the shame she felt would nag at her for years. She felt as unclean as a priestess who’d broken her vows and was somehow to blame, too, for her abduction. If she’d only told Rhodry, or called to Nevyn earlier, or—the “If only’s” ran on and on.

“From the hiraedd in your eyes,” Salamander said abruptly, “I think me you’re brooding again.”

“Oh, how can I not brood? It’s all well and good to chase after Rhodry, but I imagine he’ll only curse me to my face when we find him.”

“Why? You were no more at fault than one of the horses Perryn stole.”

She merely shook her head to keep tears away.

“Now, here, Jill, my turtledove. Your mind’s back, you can think again. Let me tell you somewhat. I’ve been thinking about our horse-stealing lord, and I’ve talked with Nevyn, too. There’s somewhat cursed peculiar about that lad. He has what you might call a wound of the soul, the way he pours out his life at will.”

“But I’m the one who fell right into his wretched arms. Ah ye gods, I never dreamt that I was as weak-willed as some slut of a tavern lass.”

Salamander