The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [151]
“I was worried,” Dallandra said. “This whole thing is utterly ghastly.”
Branna ushered them inside. Two chairs stood in the curve of the wall; she moved them near Galla. She herself sat on the broad stone windowsill. With Dallandra there, Branna’s worst fears lifted, leaving her feeling like a nearly-lost child who at last sees her mother hurrying toward her in the crowded marketplace. Although she had no conscious memories of Dalla’s dweomer, she knew that she was in the presence of a woman of great power.
“The men are having their council of war,” Solla said. “My brother’s taken all of his lords up to the chamber of justice, and most of the women have gone off to the women’s hall with Drwmigga. I decided I didn’t feel like sitting there. It’s such a hot day, so airless.”
“It is that,” Galla said. “But it must be hard for you, too, being turned out of the hall that was yours until a few days ago.”
“There’s somewhat of that in it,” Solla said with a rueful little smile. “Most of my things are packed, by the way, so I can leave with you when the time comes. Drwmigga has graciously offered me the loan of a horse cart to take them.”
“Very gracious, indeed.” Branna put venom into her voice. “No doubt she wants to be the only cow in the pasture. You can practically hear her moo in triumph.”
“Branna! How awful of you!” But Solla smiled with a wicked light in her eyes. “Your Neb is sitting in at the council of war. He told me to tell you that he’ll give us a report as soon as he can.”
“Excellent,” Galla said. “But I know what our menfolk are like. It’s going to be a long evening, once they start. Branna, dear, I brought a set of wooden wisdom. Perhaps someone would like to have a game or two.”
“I certainly would,” Solla said, “and I’ll send a page for some Bardek wine. We can have our dinner up here, too, if you’d like that.”
As Branna got up to fetch the game box, she glanced Dallandra’s way. The elven woman was smiling pleasantly, but her eyes seemed to be looking at some view a thousand miles away. All at once Branna felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She’s scrying for danger, Branna thought. There’s someone out there who wishes us harm. Although she couldn’t say how or why, she knew it as surely as she knew that fish have scales.
“Thethingis,” Salamander said, “Honelg’s dun is going to be wretchedly hard to take. A handful of archers on the walls could hold off an army.”
“Assuming they have enough arrows,” Calonderiel said.
“He’s a fearful man, Honelg, and for good reason. I suspect he has arrows by the bushel stowed here and there about the dun.”
Calonderiel swore under his breath in a mix of Deverrian and Elvish. They were walking downhill through Cengarn. All around them the town lay asleep and dark except for the occasional line of candlelight from a shuttered window. Overhead, the drift of stars supplied just enough of a glow for their elven eyesight to find the way. Now and then a dog would bark as they passed. Otherwise silence wrapped the town.
When they reached the city wall, they found the main gates closed, but a yawning guard greeted them and held his lantern high to peer at their faces.
“You must be part of the Westfolk warband,” he said.
“We are indeed,” Calonderiel said. “Can you let us out?”
“I can. The gwerbret sent orders down to open the side gate for you whenever you wanted. Come round here.”
Holding the lantern high, he took them past the little guard house to an oak plank door in the wall. It was bolted twice and barred as well. This side gate proved to be a mere slit between the stones.
“We’re the last,” Salamander said. “So you won’t be bothered again.”
“Ah, good.” The guard nodded in satisfaction. “The prince and his escort came down a while ago. The lady with him—is that the princess?”
“She’s not,” Calonderiel said with something of a snarl in his voice. “She’s my wife.”
“Then you’re a lucky man.” The guard stepped back into the doorway, as if he feared a blow. “Good night, all of you.”
“Wife?” Salamander said once they were out of earshot.
“It’s