The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [73]
Although all of them laughed, desperately trying to lighten the dark things they discussed, Jill felt oddly cold and weary at the jest. Of course we belong together, she told herself. I’ll never leave my Rhodry again, never! And yet, deep in her heart, she wondered where the dweomer road would take her, wondered now, when it was far too late to turn back.
For some time, while the evening grew darker and the room filled with shadow, they talked, trying to piece together what had happened back in Deverry, just a few months ago for all that it seemed another century now. Talking grew harder and harder, because they were always coming up against horrible things, pain and torture and the dark dweomer itself—the worst perversion of all, truly, that someone would twist the workings of the Light into darkness and death. Finally they all fell silent, staring idly across the room, looking, it seemed, at anything rather than each other. Jill got up, started a taper burning at the charcoal brazier, then lit the oil lamps to give herself something to do, but she was close to tears, feeling that Rhodry had never been farther away from her. Yet after some moments of this queasy silence Salamander showed a tact that Jill had never suspected he possessed. He stood up, stretching in a lazy way, and announced that he was going to the tavern downstairs.
“And I think me I’m going to visit more than one tavern tonight. I don’t like all these dark and dour warnings of evil dweomer all around us, but I don’t dare scry, either. We shall see what eyes and ears can do, unaided by mighty magicks, to pick up news, rumors, and hints of peculiar people and sinister doings.”
“Is that safe?” Rhodry said.
“It is, because I’m well-known, remember, and popular to boot, the famous and amusing wizard who’s entertained the town on many a happy eve. Do you think these good folk would stand by and see me murdered or abducted? I shall gather a crowd about me wherever I go, and that will be a better shield than one any weaponer could make.”
“You’re right, truly,” Jill said. “How long will you be gone?”
“Hours. If I’m not back at dawn, then come after me, but don’t worry until then. We barbarian witch-sorcerers have been known to carouse all night.”
Salamander grabbed the red cloak, lined with gold-colored satin, that matched his brocaded robes, and left with a courtly bow to them both. Jill shut the door behind him, then turned round to see Rhodry back at the window, his hands clutching the sill as he stared blindly out. For a moment she watched him in utter misery, as if he were an invalid, sick so badly and for so long that she could no longer tell if he’d recover or not. Finally he sighed and turned to face her. The silence flowed around them like water, deep and threatening.
“I don’t know what to say,” Jill burst out at last.
“No more do I. Ah by the hells, I’ve listened to enough stinking words for one evening anyway.”
When he caught her by the shoulders and kissed her, she felt the distance between them close. No matter what had happened to his mind, his body remembered her, and hers recognized him, too, whether or not her mind considered him changed. As long as she was wrapped in his arms, she could pretend that nothing had ever gone wrong, and from the desperate way he made love to her, she knew that he was pretending, too.
In the morning they woke to the sound of Salamander bustling round and throwing things into saddlebags and mule packs. Although he was singing under his breath as he worked, the tune was off-key and nervous to boot. When they came out of their chamber, he greeted them with an imperious waggle of his hand.
“We’ll eat on the road,” he announced. “I want to get out of this town now, before our lovely Alaena changes her mind, or our enemies decide to cause trouble of some sort.”
“Will we be safe on the road?” Jill said.
“Of course we won’t, but then, we won’t be safe here, either, so we might as well travel and see more of the glorious islands. Don’t throw that lamp at me,