The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [153]
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Dallandra smiled at him, then stood up. “Ebañy, come with me, will you? We need to put a seal over the camp.”
Before Calonderiel could object, she hurried off in the opposite direction from the one Gerran had taken. Salamander scrambled up and hurried after, catching up with her at the edge of the ford. Starlight danced on the surface of the placidly flowing river, mirroring the vast River of Stars above.
“This is the worst possible place to do an astral working,” Salamander said. “And since I’m quite confident that you know it, I can but repeat the banadar’s remark. You’ve got something in mind, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Dallandra said. “I’d already set the seals when we first came down from Cengarn. But I didn’t want to make this suggestion where any of the men could hear because I’m not sure it’ll work. I’m thinking of the dragons.”
“Aha! They could just fly above Honelg’s murderous gates and his archers both.”
“If that will do any good.” Dallandra turned and looked back to Cengarn’s high walls, black and looming against the starry sky. “Rhodry told me once that it was impossible to fight from dragonback because you can’t aim at anything.”
“Well, that’s discouraging.”
“I thought I’d ask Arzosah herself. She’s the one who’d know.”
“Is she nearby, then?”
“I have no idea, but I can summon her. I know her true name.” Dalla sighed sharply. “I only wish it were so easy to reach Rhodry.”
“So do I. I’ve been scrying for him now and then, by the way. I can find him easily enough, but he must be off in the wilderness somewhere. I haven’t seen one landmark I can recognize, just trees, rocks, meadows, so on and so forth.”
“I couldn’t recognize them either when I scryed for him. Well, if we summon Arzosah, maybe she can fetch him. Let’s get this working underway, shall we?”
“I stand ready to assist, O Mighty Mistress of Magicks.”
“I don’t want you to risk it. It’s still too soon after your long flight. I do want you to stand between me and the camp and think up a good lie if anyone hears me and tries to join us.”
“Anyone?” Salamander grinned at her. “You mean Cal.”
“Him, too.” Dalla returned the smile. “But Prince Dar has a touch of the ancient royal Sight, and for all I know, he has other dweomer talents as well and might feel drawn to come out here. I don’t want to be interrupted.”
“Very well. I shall be your faithful watchdog.”
Salamander walked back to the midway point ’twixt camp and river and took up his post. The little fires between the tents and in front of the pavilion glowed red, burning down to coals. A light wind rustled the trees, and he could hear the river’s murmur. In a moment Dalla’s voice joined their music, calling out Arzosah’s name. It was no ordinary shout, but an eerie vibration drawn from her very soul, or so it sounded, oddly metallic yet as resonant as a harp string as well. She repeated it three times, sending the name like an arrow flying across the etheric plane as well as through the physical air: Arzosah Sothy Lore-ez-o-haz.
As the last call died away, Salamander glanced back and saw her sink to her knees. He ran to the ford and flung himself down to kneel beside her. When he put his arm around her shoulder, she felt cold to the touch.
“I’m not ill or suchlike,” Dallandra said. “I just need a bit of a rest.”
“No doubt! You loosed those names with the power of a storm behind them.”
“Well, I have no idea how far away she’s lairing.”
As they knelt beside the star-flecked water, Salamander found himself thinking of Rocca. The image of Zakh Gral built up before him, and he could see the altar of the Outer Shrine, glowing silver with dweomer light. Rocca knelt before the stone, her arms uplifted in prayer.
“Stop it!” Dallandra’s voice cut into his vision.
Rocca and the stone vanished. Salamander felt as dazed as a drunken man abruptly revived by a bucket of cold water.
“Ye gods,” he mumbled. “I hope I didn’t put us in danger.”
“No, but you put