The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [228]
“Now that’s a great relief. No one’s going to cause us trouble with a dragon on guard.”
“Indeed, which is why I asked her to go with you. Don’t worry about having to feed her. She prefers to hunt fresh game for herself.”
“That’s good! Does she know more about Rori?”
“She does, but you’d best not ask her. Besides, she doubtless won’t tell you even if you do. It’s a very sore subject with her. I don’t mean to put you off either.” Dallandra looked away. “If it weren’t for this wretched war, I’d have time to explain things properly.”
And yet her words left Branna with the feeling that putting her off was exactly what Dallandra had wanted to do.
Dallandra finally got her audience with Lord Oth only to find that the princes Daralanteriel and Voran had done her work for her. Oth listened to her plea for mercy upon those accused of Alshandra worship, then interrupted with a smile.
“Indeed,” Oth said, “I’ve had much time to think the matter over, and I’ve talked with the two princes as well. I agree with all of you, Lady Dallandra. I shall counsel his grace toward mercy, I assure you. He does understand the reasons why that course would be best.”
“That gladdens my heart, Councillor,” Dallandra said. “But what exactly will he do to them?”
“I can promise nothing. The decision will have to be his grace’s, but they owe a debt to the true gods that they cannot repay in coin, and so the laws do allow for them to be declared bondfolk and branded.”
Dallandra winced.
“It’s better than being drawn and hanged, I assure you,” Oth said hastily. “I once saw a murderer punished that way, and truly, it’s not a sight I long to see again.”
“Well, true-spoken, I’m sure.”
“Besides, Lord Gerran will need men to tend his new lands.” Oth laid a finger alongside his nose and looked positively sly. “Most of the prisoners come from that village, not that I shall remind his grace of that. Debt-bound and branded they may be, but they’ll return to their families.”
“My lord, I’m sure the true gods will shower favor and fortune upon you for this! Someone mentioned that there was a child taken prisoner here in Cengarn. Surely he won’t be subjected to a hot iron?”
“A kitchen lad, and truly, he’s not very old. You know, some while ago Lady Branna begged me to release him. I think I may ask her if the Red Wolf will take him with them when they leave.”
“That would be so splendid of you.” Dallandra favored him with her best smile. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” For good measure, she allowed Oth to kiss her hand as she was leaving.
As Dallandra walked across the ward toward the gates, she saw Gerran, a candle lantern in his hand, heading for the gwerbret’s squat stone gaol. She hailed him, and he strolled over to greet her.
“Lord Oth spoke to me,” Gerran said. “I’m on my way to get that kitchen lad out of gaol.”
“That gladdens my heart,” Dallandra said. “Oth kept his word, then.”
“He generally does.”
“Good. Do you know where Salamander is?”
“He went down to your encampment some while ago to fetch his horse and gear.”
“I’ll see him there, then. May you have a good journey home.”
“My thanks, and the same to you, though we’ll see you again at the muster.”
Down in the meadow below Cengarn, the Westfolk had set up the bare bones of a camp. Dallandra’s was the only tent they’d bothered to raise. Since the night was clear and warm, the men, even the prince, would sleep outside. Everyone wanted to pack up and leave as fast as possible on the morrow morning.
Dallandra found Salamander sitting at the campfire with Calonderiel and some of the archers. When he saw her, he got up and quirked an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Dallandra said, “I do need to talk with you. Let’s go down to the river.”
The river was running low now that the summer was well advanced. The ford where Jill had died lay shallow, marked out with white stones that seemed to shimmer in the faint light of a quarter moon.