The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [171]
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Dallandra said. “I know it’s a horrible imposition, but he’s the only one who can scry for them. We could search the grasslands for days otherwise.”
“And when we find them, what then? Do I get to eat them?”
“No, not the men.” Dallandra put steel into her voice. “Absolutely not! No live horses, either, unless one’s injured too badly to heal. However, once we take Lord Honelg’s dun, I’m sure we’ll find some cattle for you.”
“Cattle? Ah, cattle!” Arzosah licked her lips. “I should consider myself well thanked, in that case. A hog would be nice as well.”
“Two hogs, then, if we can find some. I’ve worked out a plan,” Salamander said. “During today’s ride, I’ve been in contact with another dweomermaster. Now that you’re here, we can discuss things in some detail.”
“And we’d better do just that before you leave,” Dallandra put in. “Because it’s very complicated.” She shot Salamander a black glance. “Most likely too much so.”
“I really wish that I’d never let Evandar find out my true name,” Arzosah said. “It was stupid of me, stupid stupid stupid!”
“Be that as it may, you’re stuck with us now.” Salamander grinned at her. “The army’s making camp. Dalla, why don’t you tell this most marvelous, beauteous, and sagacious wyrm what we have in mind. I’ll go over to the supply carts and get some rope. I’m not going to stay on her back without it, I think me.”
Arzosah raised her head toward the sky and whined like a kicked dog. “Ropes! Fit only for a smelly old mule! What happened to my harness? I once had a fine leather harness with jewels upon it, not as many as I deserve, of course, but jewels nonetheless.”
“It’s in a chest somewhere in Dun Cengarn, I suppose,” Dallandra said. “But there’s no time to go back and fetch it now. Please, listen carefully to what we need to do. Oh, and one more thing, by your true name, Arzosah Sothy Lorezohaz, I enjoin you to obey Salamander as if he were me.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?” Arzosah muttered something else, but in Dragonish. Judging from her tone of voice, Dallandra was just as glad she didn’t understand the words. “Oh, very well.” Arzosah returned to Elvish. “I can but obey.”
During the day’s march north, Neb had been riding near the end of the column with the other servitors and the servants who were in charge of the baggage train. For them, the rain was a blessing—better to ride wet than to choke on the dust stirred up from a dry road by the warbands ahead of them. When the dragon appeared overhead, the gentle old palfrey Gerran had given him made a weak attempt to rear and buck like the other horses, then quieted down and merely trembled.
When the orders came back to dismount and prepare the night’s camp, Neb followed them gladly. Although he was by no means a terrible rider, he certainly wasn’t a good one either, and the dragon’s proximity was keeping all the horses nervous. The baggage train turned into an orderly if confusing mob as the experienced servants hurried to their work, tending horses, unloading tents from wagons, and going through the provisions to ensure that any wet food got eaten that very night. Neb stood off to one side and watched, wondering what he was supposed to do. Fortunately, Salamander came jogging up to him.
“Give that horse to one of the servants to tend,” the gerthddyn said. “Never forget that you’re a highly educated scribe and thus too valuable for sweated labor. Besides, Dalla wants to talk to you.”
“Very well,” Neb said. “I take it she summoned that creature?”
“She did, but the creature’s actually quite intelligent. You’ve got to treat her as if she were a great lady.” Salamander paused, thinking. “Actually, you know, she is a great lady, merely of the scaly variety. I’ll introduce you in a bit, but now I’ve got to find rather a lot of rope. Could you help me carry it over?”
“Gladly. I have to admit, this is all a cursed lot more interesting than sitting around the Red Wolf dun.”
With a coil of rope each slung over their shoulders, Neb and Salamander left the camp. With distractions