The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [184]
“Ych!” Arzosah rolled her eyes in disgust. “I did see some small ugly things scuttling into the temple itself, but I just got a glimpse of them. They might have been dogs. I detest dogs. Too much noise and bone, too little meat.”
“It’s a puzzle, then,” Dallandra said.
“An enigma, amazement, conundrum, and riddle indeed,” Salamander said. “But I doubt me if we can linger here to solve it.”
“True-spoken, alas,” Dallandra said. “I’m more determined than ever to investigate that temple.”
“What?” Salamander said. “If Govvin’s marked you for his enemy, that’s going to be dangerous.”
“It may be, it may not. If Govvin’s the only person with dweomer knowledge up there, it won’t be.”
“And if there’s someone else, his teacher, perhaps?”
“Then it will be, but it needs doing anyway.”
“Well, you can’t do it right now. We’ve got to get back to the army, or they’ll leave without us.”
“I know that,” Dallandra snapped. “Arzosah, if you’ll just fly ahead? I wouldn’t put it past Honelg to lay an ambuscade. He’s most likely desperate enough to try.”
“Now that is a good thought,” Arzosah said. “He might also have sent a second batch of messengers, for all we know, in case the first lot ran into difficulties. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“A thousand thanks!” Dallandra said. “But tonight, when we camp, it would gladden my heart if you’d tell what’s happened to the silver dragon.”
“Would it?” Arzosah looked away. “I doubt that.”
“Here, is he still alive?” Dallandra’s voice was sharp with alarm.
“He is that,” the dragon said. “I’ll tell you more later. Perhaps.”
“But—”
Arzosah began to turn around, moving with her usual slow waddle, but Salamander still had to jump back to avoid her tail as it swung after her. She put on a bit of speed, reached the open field, then spread her wings, bunched her muscles, and sprang into the air. No one spoke until she’d flown away out of sight, heading north in the direction of Honelg’s dun.
“May her scales turn greasy and itch,” Salamander muttered. “Dalla, the way she keeps putting you off—it’s truly worrisome.”
“It is, indeed.” Dallandra said. “But she’ll tell us what she wants to tell us and when she wants to, not a moment before.”
Around noon Gwerbret Ridvar’s army rode up to Honelg’s village. Gerran wasn’t in the least surprised to find it deserted except for a handful of old women and young children. Dressed mostly in faded black, the women stood around the village well, with the children clinging to their skirts, and watched the army file in. No one either cheered or jeered, they neither scowled nor smiled, merely watched with wary eyes. They had, no doubt, seen plenty of trouble in their lives and seemed utterly unsurprised to see more.
The army stopped in a swirl of dust and confusion out in the road, but Gwerbret Ridvar rode on toward the women. Prince Voran urged his horse forward and blocked his way.
“This could be some sort of trap,” the prince said.
“It could, truly, Your Highness.” Ridvar paused, looking the women over. “But I doubt it.”
Ridvar stopped his horse a few feet from the crowd at the well. He leaned over his horse’s neck to speak.
“None of you nor your homes will be harmed,” he said. “Where are the others? Up in the dun for the siege?”
The women exchanged glances and kept silence.
“We’ll find out soon enough. Did they leave you any food?”
A stoop-backed woman with gray hair and only a few teeth shuffled forward to answer. “They did, Your Grace, enough for the children.”
“But not for the rest of you?” Ridvar turned in his saddle and beckoned to his captain. “When we make camp, send back supplies.”
“Done, Your Grace.” The captain raised a hand in salute.
The women sighed, moved a few steps here and there, and turned to look at one another, in a rustle of clothing like wind in dry branches.
“What about the younger women?” Prince Voran called out. “I swear to you that no man here will harm them. If any do, they