The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [221]
Daralanteriel snorted loudly and went on sorting.
It was not long before everyone learned just whom the gwerbret would choose for the dun’s new lord. Salamander changed his bloodstained shirt for one that was merely dirty, then wandered uphill to the Red Wolf camp. Servants had set up an iron spit over the central fire, braced by two green branches cut to their clefts. A young hog, his wyrd come upon him, was already roasting. The smell of food cooking made Salamander’s stomach growl. For a moment he felt thoroughly disgusted with himself, that he’d be hungry after the things he’d just seen.
“Looking for Neb, are you, sir?” a servant said to him.
“I am, truly, and the captain as well.”
“They’re both down by the tieryn’s tent. That big gray one over there.”
“Have they buried Warryc yet?”
“They have, sir, but they gave him a grave of his own. I’m glad of it, because he was a decent man for a rider.”
“I didn’t care to think of him being dumped into a ditch with the rebels, truly.”
“Did you hear the news about Raldd?” The servant glanced around, and then dropped his voice to a murmur. “They’re going to draw him like a chicken and hang his corpse, trailing guts and all, out by the main gates for the ravens.”
“Indeed? Well, he’s dead and beyond caring.”
Salamander walked on and found Neb sitting with Gerran on the ground in front of Tieryn Cadryc’s tent. Gerran greeted him with a weary smile and a briefly raised hand. Salamander hunkered down to join them.
“His grace is inside with his grandson and the pages,” Neb said. “Matyc’s telling everyone about how his father tried to kill him.”
“Again?” Gerran said.
“He’s going to need to tell it over and over, and probably for a good long while.”
“You’re doubtless right, Neb,” Salamander said. “How’s your young brother taking all of this? The dead men and suchlike, I mean. I was impressed with the way he identified Raldd. I’ll admit to being surprised when he didn’t even weep.”
“I was, too.” Neb paused for a wry smile. “But don’t forget, we lived through a plague back in Trev Hael. Death isn’t a stranger to me and mine, alas.”
“I had forgotten. My apologies.”
“Well, a lot’s happened since Clae and I came staggering out of the forest, hasn’t it?” Neb shook his head in amazement. “It’s hard to believe sometimes, when I think of it all.”
“So it is,” Salamander said. “This summer’s been a true turning point in your life.”
“In all our lives,” Gerran said. “That fight this morning, it made me realize somewhat about the Westfolk and your longbows. Battle’s never going to be the same. Now you can kill a man from a distance easier than you can kill him face-to-face.” He turned his head and spat into the dirt. “Ye gods!”
“What?” Neb said. “I don’t understand why it troubles your heart so much.”
“Well, by the black hairy arse of the Lord of Hell! You stand on a wall, you loose an arrow, and your enemy dies before he has the least chance to fight back. Where’s the glory in that?” Gerran paused to catch his breath. “Haven’t men always praised me for my skill with a blade? Well, does it matter anymore how good a swordsman I am? Or anyone else either. Not if the enemy has archers.”
“That’s a good point, truly. I’d not thought—” Salamander broke off abruptly. “Look, here comes Prince Voran! On your knees, lads.”
They all scrambled to kneel properly as, not merely the prince but Gwerbret Ridvar as well strode up, accompanied by their captains. Salamander was assuming that they wanted to speak with Tieryn Cadryc.
“There you are, Gerran,” Prince Voran said instead. “I want to commend you on your part in the fighting today.”
“Me, Your Highness?” Gerran blushed scarlet. “Truly, I was only doing my duty to my sworn lord.”
At that Cadryc himself stuck his head out the tent flap, saw who his visitors were, and came out to bow to them.
“It’s a good thing you’re here, tieryn,” Prince Voran said. “What I have to say to your captain concerns you, too.”
“It does?” Cadryc said. “What’s this, Gerro? Did they catch you looting Honelg’s vast stores of gold and silver?”
Everyone