The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [29]
“Where is Brindemo?”
“Very ill, my lord. I am his son. I will serve you in his stead.”
“Ill? Is there a fever in your compound?”
“Not at all, not at all.” He paused to run his tongue over his lips. “It was strange. Spoiled food, mayhap.”
While Salamander considered him, the boy squirmed, his eyes looking everywhere but at the gerthddyn.
“Well,” Salamander said at last. “Tender my humble apologies to your esteemed father, but I insist on seeing him. I know many a strange thing, you see. Perhaps I could recommend a remedy.” He paused for effect. “I am the Great Krysello, Barbarian Wizard of the North.”
The young man moaned and squirmed the more, but he threw the door wide open and let them into the grassy yard, where a couple of young women sat together near the well in a dull-eyed slump of despair. When Jill realized that she was seeing human merchandise, her stomach clenched, and she looked away.
“I must see if my father is awake.”
“We’ll come with you while you do,” Salamander said.
With a groan of honest terror the boy led him round the longhouse to a side door which, it turned out, opened directly into his parents’ bedchamber. Lying amidst a heap of striped cushions on a low divan, Brindemo raised his head drunkenly and stared at them with rheumy eyes, his dark skin ashy-gray from fear and fever. Her hands clasped over her mouth, his stout wife stood frozen in the corner. Brindemo looked at her and barked out one word; she ran from the room. Salamander stalked over to the bedside.
“Look at my pale hair. You know I’m from Deverry. You had a barbarian man here for sale, didn’t you?”
“I did, truly.” The fat trader’s voice was a harsh whisper from a poison-burned throat. “I told your men already. I sold him. A spice merchant, Zandar of Danmara.” He paused to cough horribly. “Have you come to kill me now?”
“Naught of the sort. I can smell the poison in your sweat, and I know what it is. Swallow spoonfuls of honey mixed with butter or some kind of fat. It will soothe the pains and sop the dregs up. Since the ben-marono plant kills quickly, and you aren’t dead already, we may conclude that they gave you a less than fatal dose.”
“My thanks. Ai! Baruma is one of your northern demons, I swear it.”
“The son of one, at least.”
With great effort Brindemo raised his head to stare into Salamander’s eyes.
“You!” he hissed. “You’re not one of them, are you?”
“One of whom?”
He fell back, panting from his exertion, and looked away. Salamander smiled gently.
“I won’t force any truths out of you, my friend. If you mean what I suspect you mean, they’d kill you for certain. But in return, I shan’t tell you one word about myself, so they won’t be able to pry it out of you.”
“A fair bargain.” For a moment Brindemo lay still, gathering his strength to speak further. “Ease a sick man’s curiosity, good sir, if you can. The barbarian lad, the one they called Taliaesyn, who was he truly?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“He didn’t know. His memory was gone, completely gone.”
Jill muttered a foul and involuntary oath.
“I see.” Salamander turned grim. “Well, my friend, you had the honor of feeding a very important man. He was Rhodry Maelwaedd, Gwerbret Aberwyn, kidnapped and sold by his enemies.”
Brindemo made a deep gurgling sound, choked, and coughed in spasms of sweating.
“Calm yourself,” Salamander said. “You didn’t know the truth, so no doubt no further harm will befall you. I take it you know where Aberwyn is.”
“I don’t.” Brindemo could barely choke out the words. “Doesn’t matter. Know what a gwerbret is. Ai ai ai.”
At that his son stepped into the chamber, a big kitchen knife clutched in one hand and his face set in hard determination. When Brindemo muttered a few Bardekian words, he blushed in embarrassment and set the knife