The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [135]
“So!” The Hawkmaster’s voice boomed through the blue light. “Has he opened war upon me?”
“No, master, no. He said to tell you the truth, about Rhodry Maelwaedd, about everything, about the Master of the Aethyr, too.”
The Hawkmaster’s image hung as still and brittle as a piece of fine porcelain.
“The Master of the Aethyr?”
“That was the plan, to lure him here and kill him. He’s here now, so the plan is working. I’m to tell you everything now, master, everything. Don’t torture me! Oh please don’t hurt me!”
“I won’t, little piglet. Come back with me, and we’ll talk, long and hard.”
Thanks to the help of the Kings of Air, the Guaranteed Profit reached Indila in an amazingly short time, much to the relief of the horses as well as Perryn. As Nevyn supervised unloading the stock onto the stone pier, he noticed his volunteer servingman surreptitiously kneeling down to kiss the solid footing and pat the stone like a beloved dog. As it did at odd moments, the question of Perryn’s true nature rose to vex him, simply because he’d never seen anyone with such an instinctive antipathy to the element of water, but he put the wondering firmly aside. Such luxuries as the pursuit of knowledge would have to wait till his return to Deverry.
“That’s the last of the poor beasts off,” Elaeno said, strolling over. “We’ll have to buy a horse for me down in the public market.”
“Actually, I was thinking that you’d best stay here.”
“What? And miss the fighting?”
“Naught of the sort—maybe. Listen, once I get Jill and the rest of them out of whatever trouble they’re in, I intend to retreat as fast as I can. We’ve got to get Rhodry home first and worry about stamping out our nasty little enemies later. I’ve no desire to come rushing back here only to find your ship burned or destroyed some other way, and every captain in port mysteriously unwilling to give us passage home.”
“I see what you mean.” Elaeno laid an enormous hand on the hilt of his sword. “Me and my lads have fought off pirates before. We’ll be ready to do it again if we have to.”
“Good. You might. And keep up your astral seals, too. If naught else, it’ll give our enemies somewhat to stew about.”
Since they’d arrived soon after dawn, Nevyn decided to lead his small warband out that very day. Although they did go down to the marketplace and buy supplies, he skipped a formal and time-consuming visit to the archon of Indila, and they rode out the north gate just about noon. By then Perryn had revived enough to be absolutely certain that Jill was still in the same place, more north than east from Indila.
“This road will take us right to Pastedion, but it does run along the river,” Nevyn said. “Will traveling so close to flowing water keep you from finding her?”
“It won’t, my lord. Er, um, why would it?”
“Water troubles some dweomer-workings.”
“Oh, but I don’t have dweomer.”
“You know, I’m beginning to think you’re exactly right: you don’t. Just what you do have is the greatest puzzle I’ve faced in years.”
For a reply Perryn merely looked miserable, as if blaming himself for his peculiar mental structure—a legacy of self-loathing from his Uncle Benoic, Nevyn assumed, and he let the painful subject drop.
When the Old One judged that the Hawkmaster had contemplated his bitter truths long enough, he made contact with Baruma rather than go to meet his enemy on the etheric plane, where an ambush of sorts might be possible. He found his former student’s mind so clouded that it was easy to take him over, even through the scrying mirror, and look out of his eyes. As far as he could tell from body-empathy, Baruma was kneeling on a pile of saddle blankets while he fed twigs into a small fire. Nearby two men—Hawks, the Old One assumed—were playing knucklebones for splinters, while a third man, the Hawkmaster that the Old One had hired the year before, was sitting cross-legged with his back to the others and staring blankly out at the rain-washed hillside beyond the rough stone shelter. He was meditating, perhaps, or performing some sort of