The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [32]
“Why would it? If it was a magical curse or suchlike—”
“But it wasn’t any such thing. When it happened, I wasn’t thinking clearly, so I didn’t see the obvious. About a month later, when I was watching the men in my alar butcher a sheep, I realized the dagger had punctured a lung. There’s a tremendous lot of blood vessels there, and most of the blood was draining into his chest cavity. He was drowning, actually, in his own blood.”
For a moment Salamander nearly lost the vision in a wave of compassionate disgust. He steadied his mind and went on. “Then if it wasn’t a dweomer wound, what I saw must be a fresh injury. Perhaps something he was trying to eat fought back.”
“Very likely, yes. Well, there’s naught I can do about it, unfortunately, unless he seeks me out, and so far, he hasn’t. Do you have any other news?”
“Oh, a few small tidbits.” Salamander paused for drama’s sake. “I also ran across Nevyn, Jill, and Cullyn as well—or at least, I think it’s Cullyn. I only saw him once or twice, and that was years ago.”
“You what? Ye gods! They’ve all been reborn?”
“Yes, all reborn and here together, and Neb’s growling like a dog with a stolen joint of mutton at anyone who casts an unseemly glance at little Branna. I wonder if Gerran’s noticed the lass yet? Things could turn most unpleasant, you know, should he take a fancy to her. They’re all still quite young. I’d say that Gerran’s the oldest of the lot, and he seems to be about twenty. I really wish that Deverry men kept better track of things like someone’s age.”
“They don’t have much reason to, I suppose. So Gerran is the man you think is Cullyn reborn?”
“Yes. Sorry, I wasn’t being clear. The other names—”
“I could guess them, yes. Tell me about them. How did you find them?”
“It was more like they found me.”
Dallandra listened intently to his tale, breaking her concentration only to feed a few sticks of wood into her little fire.
“Do Neb and Branna remember who they are?” Dalla said when he’d finished. “Or were, I should say.”
“No. They do both see the Wildfolk.”
“Odd. I would have thought that Neb, at least, would have memories of working dweomer.”
“So would I. Of course, he may have them but be keeping them to himself.”
“That’s quite true.” Dallandra paused briefly. “What about Neb’s little brother?”
“I don’t recognize him at all.”
“That’s interesting in itself. If you need me, I can gather an escort and ride your way.”
“My thanks. I just might take you up on that. There’s another thing, oh mighty mistress of magicks. The Horsekin. They’ve been raiding in the Melyn River valley.”
“Again?”
“Again. It’s most peculiar, too. They sent a sizable warband of heavy cavalry to burn two villages. For their trouble they got maybe thirty slave women and girls and two small boys. They didn’t even bother harvesting the wheat in the fields. Does that make sense to you?”
“No, it certainly doesn’t.”
“I’ve been talking with the tieryn and his captain—Gerran, that is—about the raids. Their history is peculiar as well. Imagine in your mind the western flank of Deverry. Now imagine a line running from Cengarn down straight south to the sea. The Horsekin only attack settlements to the west of that line.”
“I suppose the settlements farther east are too well guarded.”
“Not on your life, oh, princess of powers perilous. I suspect—and as of now it’s a mere suspicion only—that the Horsekin are trying to stop human settlement from spreading.”
“To protect their borders?”
“Their borders are too far north for that. No, I wonder if there’s something they want to hide out to the west of here.”
“Hide? Such as what?”
“Such as a permanent camp set up to outflank the men of the Rhiddaer. It’s the only thing I can think of, anyway.”
Salamander could feel her shock as if it rode on a wave of mist, breaking over him. When her thoughts reached him, he could feel their venom as well.
“That would be just like them, wouldn’t it?” Dallandra thought-spoke.