The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [175]
“I want to go hunt,” Arzosah said. “I spotted some deer not far away.”
“You certainly may,” Salamander said, “but if you make a kill, bring it back here before you eat it. I don’t want you falling asleep while you’re off somewhere.”
“How very clever of you to think of that! Oh, very well. I’ll nest here after I eat. When do we leave again?”
“After the dawn.”
“At least it should be warm and sunny tomorrow. I should be thankful for small boons, I suppose.”
With a long rustle of her wings, the dragon dashed forward and took to the air. Salamander watched her fly for a moment. He was remembering scrying out his brother and seeing him in dragon form, stooping to kill a deer. The huge silvery mouth had closed around the fleeing doe’s neck with a spurt of red, an omen of the raw feast to come. With a shake of his head Salamander banished the memory. He strode off, heading for the Westfolk camp, where Valandario stood waiting for him.
“All’s well so far,” Salamander called out.
“Splendid!” Valandario said. “Come have dinner. You’re just in time.”
“Good, good.” Salamander realized that his stomach had a very different opinion than his mind about eating right away. “I’ll just contact Dallandra first, I think. She might be worried.”
“She probably is. So are we all, worried that is. Ebañy, I had an awful thought. You told me about that raven mazrak. Why can’t he just fly off to Zakh Gral and warn them?”
“What would he tell them? That he found out we were attacking by using forbidden dweomer? And then flew all the way there in mazrak form? They’d kill him on the spot.”
“Oh.” Valandario allowed herself a soft, warm smile. “It’s lovely when your enemy throws his best weapon away, isn’t it? Well, you contact Dalla, and I’ll finish getting dinner ready.”
In the middle of the noise and bustle of a camping army, Dallandra was kneeling by a small fire, feeding it twigs to keep it burning. Even as she reached for a larger stick of wood, she kept her gaze firmly on the flames, her body as taut and poised as a strung bow. Now and then her lips would move as if they were forming words. Neb watched, awestruck. She was speaking to someone through the fire. He was so certain that he knew what she was doing that when she finally broke her concentration, he knelt beside her.
“Did Salamander find the messengers?” Neb said.
“He did, and they’ve joined up with Valandario as well,” Dallandra said, then sat back on her heels with a laugh. “You took me by surprise there. When did you remember?”
“Just now, watching you.”
“That’s truly interesting.” Dalla cocked her head to one side and considered him for a moment. “You may remember a great deal more than we thought at first. You don’t have the words for your memories, but you recognize dweomer when you actually see it worked.”
“So I do!”
“That pleases you, doesn’t it?”
“It does.” Neb gave her a sheepish grin. “I’ve been so jealous of Branna, you see, with her wonderful dreams, and I felt lower than a snake for envying her, too.”
“Well, it’s perfectly understandable, the jealousy, I mean. Don’t berate yourself for it.”
“My thanks, I shan’t, then. Do you think I could try scrying in the fire? I’ve been wondering how Branna is—”
“Nah nah nah! Slowly, now! I know it must be horribly tempting, the idea of just plunging ahead, seeing what you remember and what you can do with those skills, but it could also be very dangerous.”
“Dangerous? How?”
“In a number of ways. First, it comes down to the old adage about learning how to mount a horse before you can ride. Or, wait, here’s a better example. When you learned to write, did your father just show you a page from a book and tell you to copy it?”
“He didn’t. First he made me analyze each letter, how many strokes made it