The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [24]
“Here, what about this?” Lord Samyc said. “I’ll give you what supplies I’ve got left from the winter. Then my farm folk can go harvest the milk-ripe crops to feed my dun when I get back to it.”
Cadryc glanced at Gerran. Over the years, whether as father and stepson or tieryn and captain, they’d come to know each other so well that they could exchange messages with a look and a gesture. Gerran, being common-born, had no honor to lose by suggesting caution, and since he was the best swordsman in the province, no one would have dared call him a coward. The other two lords were also waiting for him to speak, he realized, though no doubt they would have denied it had anyone pointed it out.
“Well, my lord,” Gerran said, “Didn’t Lord Samyc’s man tell us that thirty Horsekin rode to the dun?”
“He did,” Cadryc said.
“So I’ll wager their warband numbers more than that.
Someone must have been guarding the prisoners from the first village while the raiders rode to the second one. We’ve got thirty men ourselves, and Lord Samyc can give us only a few more.”
“Ah!” Samyc held up one hand to interrupt. “But some of my villagers have been training with the longbow.”
“Splendid, my lord!” Gerran said. “How many?”
“Well, um, two.”
“Oh.”
“We’re badly outnumbered.” Pedrys leaned forward. “Is that it, Captain?”
“It is, my lord, though it gripes my soul to admit it. We’ve all faced the Horsekin before. They know how to swing a sword when they need to. If we had more than two archers to call upon, the situation would be different.”
The three lords nodded agreement.
“So, I don’t think it would be wise to follow them, your grace,” Gerran said. “What if they have reinforcements waiting farther west?”
Cadryc stabbed a chunk of bread with his table dagger and leaned back in his chair to eat it.
“It gripes my soul,” Pedrys snarled, “to let them just ride away with our people.”
“It gripes mine, too,” Cadryc said, swallowing. “But what good will it do them if we ride into a trap? We’ve got to think of the rest of the rhan, lads. If we’re wiped out, who will stand between it and the Horsekin?”
“That’s true,” Samyc said. “Alas.”
Cadryc pointed the chunk of bread at the two lords in turn. “We need more men, that’s the hard truth of it. I know I’ve said it before, but it’s the blasted truth.”
“Just so, Your Grace,” Gerran said. “It’s too bad we don’t have wings like that dragon.”
“Indeed.” Cadryc glanced at Samyc. “Do you know you’ve got a dragon in your demesne?”
“It’s not mine, exactly,” Samyc said with a twisted grin. “It comes and goes as it pleases.”
“When did you first see it, my lord?” Gerran said. “If I may ask.”
“Well, it was a bit over a year ago, just when the snow was starting to melt. It came flying over the dun here, bold as brass. I’d heard of dragons before, of course, but seeing a real one—ye gods!”
“Truly,” Cadryc said. “I don’t mind admitting that the sight was a bit much excitement at the start of a day.”
“Let’s hope it likes the taste of Horsekin,” Gerran said.
Cadryc laughed with a toss of his head. “I’ve got a scribe now,” he said with a nod at the two lords. “So I’ll send a letter to the gwerbret and see what kind of answer he has for us. Get the warbands ready to ride, Gerro, will you? We’re going home.”
“I will, Your Grace,” Gerran said. “One thing, though, that last man from Neb’s old village.” He looked Samyc’s way. “Did he take shelter with you, my lord?”
“Not that I know of. Did someone escape, you mean?”
“Just that. I’d like to hear what he has to say. Any information we can get about the raid is all to the good.” Gerran stood up. “I’ll ask around out in the ward.”
Unfortunately, no one, not farmer nor member of the warband, had seen any escapee arrive at the dun, nor had the woodcutting expedition turned him up