The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [124]
“There,” Salamander pronounced. “Well and good, Gwin. See what happens now.”
The moment Jill let go his hand and stepped back, the wards disappeared from her sight, and the Wildfolk all scattered in disappointment. Gwin picked up the reins of the horses, led them toward the gate, took one deep breath, and walked on through. Brother Merrano allowed himself a small cheer. For a moment Gwin nearly did weep, but he wiped his eyes vigorously on the back of his hand instead.
“My thanks,” he said to Salamander. “I’ll be your man for life.”
“I’d rather you were your own man, actually, but you’re welcome for the favor. Brother Merrano, now that we’re all here, perhaps we’d best shut these gates. I have a most peculiar, exotic, eerie, and generally bizarre tale to tell to your superior.”
“Your tales generally run along those lines, yes,” Merrano said, grinning. “That’s why we’re all so glad to see you again.”
As soon as he walked into the temple compound, Rhodry felt his black mood lift as palpably as if someone had stripped a wet cloak from his shoulders. Even when he glanced back to see Jill holding Salamander’s hand and talking privately with Gwin, he thought nothing more than that they were trying to decide what to do with the twenty-odd extra horses that his brother had insisted on keeping with them—and which were turning out to be a nuisance that he, for one, could have well done without. When the circle broke up, he called to Salamander.
“We’ve got them all tethered and tied. It should do for now.”
Salamander waved to him and, talking with Gwin, came strolling back inside with Jill following. Rhodry was alarmed at how tired she looked, with dark circles under her eyes and a stagger to her walk. A young priest who introduced himself as Brother Kwintanno had noticed her condition as well.
“The woman with you? Is she ill?”
“Just very tired. We’ve had a terrible long ride of it, getting here through the mountains.”
“Let’s get her to the guesthouse where you’ll all be staying, then, so she can get some sleep. Evan can talk enough for everybody, and he probably will.”
It took Rhodry a moment to realize that by Evan he meant Salamander. He also thought, and with some irritation, that he really should have remembered his brother’s actual name before this.
Although Jill tried to claim that she was perfectly well and not in the least tired, she kept her protests short and let Rhodry put his arm round her for support as they followed the priest through the maze of buildings and huts in the enormous compound. The guesthouse turned out to be a pleasant wooden building, whitewashed inside and out, with three rooms and a number of cots, chairs, and low tables scattered through them. In the central room there was even a shelf with some ten scrolls and a lectern nearby for reading them.
“You’ll have the place to yourself, this time of year,” Kwintanno said. “During the summer we have many guests, here on legal matters, mostly.” He went to a chest and began burrowing through its contents. “Yes, there are plenty of clean blankets. Take what you want. Later you can all visit our bathhouse if you so wish.”
“I do wish, and with all my heart,” Rhodry said. “Jill, you’d better sleep first.”
“Am I arguing with you, my love?” She sat down on the edge of a cot and yawned, rubbing her face with both hands. “One blanket will be plenty, my thanks.”
Kwintanno led Rhodry to one of the big longhouses he’d seen from the street and into a typical Bardekian reception room, its walls painted with scenes of godlike beings founding cities and handing over scrolls of laws to groveling humans. Up on the red-and-blue tiled dais, Salamander and Gwin were sitting cross-legged and talking—or rather, Salamander was talking—to an elderly man dressed in a long red robe. He was very old, his dark face lined and pouched, his curly hair pure white, but he sat straight and his black eyes were full of power.
“His Holiness, Takiton,” Kwintanno whispered. “Bow when you approach.”
Rhodry