The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [119]
“Oh.” Color ebbed back into Gwin’s face. “But he could have sent—by the Clawed Ones, he would have sent someone else to spy for him. He’s above scut-work like this.”
“Since when is scrying on the etheric scut-work?” Salamander said. “Well, I suppose a Hawk might see it that way.”
“For the love of every god,” Rhodry snarled. “Would you two tell me what’s going on?”
“My apologies, younger brother of mine. Jill and I looked up to see a more or less human figure riding on the back of a wolf whilst a profusion of Wildfolk tried to tip him off. Needless to say, we found the sight alarming, didn’t we, my turtledove—oh ye gods! Jill!”
Rhodry spun round to find her standing some five feet away. Perfectly still, perfectly rigid, one hand out in front of her as if to ward a blow, she was staring down at a wolf crouched in front of her, its lips back in a soundless snarl as it stared up, seemingly into her eyes. For a moment he thought it was real; then he realized that he could see right through it. By the light of Salamander’s dweomer-lantern Rhodry could also see the silver cord that ran from its navel back to hers and the peculiar waves of force that rippled like water back and forth between them. When he lunged forward, Salamander grabbed him and hauled him back.
“She’s got to finish this herself. Jill! Listen to me! You’ve got to reclaim it. Bend your will to the cord! Suck the thing lifeless through that cord!”
She nodded, the barest movement of her head to show she’d heard him, and kept staring the wolf down. Although she never moved, it suddenly leapt up onto all fours and laid its ears down, its mouth opening in a silent howl. When it jerked itself toward her, Jill flung up a hand palm-outward and stopped it cold. For a moment they glared at each other, the wolf all fangs and lowered head, poised for the attack, she grim concentration and hard eyes. All at once its tail began to wag, just timidly, and it whined, lifting one paw, staring up, pleading with her, then flopping down to roll on its back, whining like a puppy. Rhodry saw energy flowing up the silver cord in her direction, leaching the creature’s life away as it begged and fawned desperately at her feet, growing fainter, then smaller, then fading away to the sound of a whine, hanging on the air.
Jill dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. This time, when Rhodry started toward her, Salamander let him go. He caught her in his arms and pulled her close, let her keen between sobs in honest grief, but he’d never been so bewildered since the day when he’d woken in the hold of the ship to find Baruma gloating over him. All at once Jill pulled back and looked at him, her face wet and puffy with tears.
“I loved it,” she whispered. “It was part of me.”
Then she fainted, so suddenly that if he hadn’t been holding her she would have dropped where she stood. As he knelt and laid her down, he heard his brother cursing. Salamander knelt down next to him and laid his long fingers on Jill’s face.
“Ah, by every stinking demon in every stinking hell, she’s cold as ice! Gwin, fetch me a blanket! My apologies, Rhoddo, but she had to kill it herself. There wasn’t one cursed thing I could do to help.”
“You better be telling the truth, or I’ll have your hide for a saddlebag.”
“I was afraid you’d take it that way. My thanks, Gwin. Go away, will you, younger brother, and leave her to me and the fresh night air?”
Fuming with reluctance Rhodry got up and stepped back as Salamander began wrapping the blanket round his patient. A crowd of anxious Wildfolk hovered, clustering round Jill, climbing all over Salamander, darting round Rhodry’s head. Two sprites even perched briefly on his shoulders, but when Gwin came up behind him, the sprites disappeared with a hiss.
“He’ll set her right,” Gwin said. “I’ve never seen anyone with dweomer like your brother’s, or like your woman’s, for that matter.”
Only then did Rhodry realize that he’d just witnessed a magical working,