The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [46]
Another sigh, another glance away—for a moment she perched so uneasily on the edge of the bench that he feared she’d get up and bolt; then she settled back.
“I made up this other then, this other when, you see, another world, really, though it was much like Deverry. And in it, this world—” She paused for a moment.
Salamander gave her an encouraging smile.
“Well, I used to pretend that I was a mighty sorcerer. I traveled all over the kingdom, and to Bardek, and to marvelous islands far far away. I could call down a strange blue fire to light my way, and once, when I was trapped in a burning building, I commanded the wind to save me.”
“Sounds splendid, indeed.”
“In one tale, I could even turn myself into a bird and fly.”
“And this bird, it was a falcon, wasn’t it?”
Branna slewed around on the bench and stared at him while the color drained from her face. “How do you know that?” she was whispering. “Or are sorcer ous powers a common delusion among lonely females?”
“Not at all. Most lonely lasses dream about meeting a prince who loves them madly.”
She laughed with a toss of her head, and in that gesture he could see the hard common sense that once had been hers, in that other when, that other where. “True enough,” she said. “But how did you know about my falcon?”
“My mysterious bardic powers, of course. Ah, I see you don’t believe me.”
“You’re not a bard. If you were, maybe I’d believe you, but you’re a gerthddyn. How did you know?”
“Ah, therein lies an enigma, most recondite, obscure, and elusive.” Salamander paused. He could hear voices coming toward them. “And it’s one you absolutely must solve for yourself.” He stood up with a wave in the direction of the voices. “Here comes our good tieryn and his son, so, alas, I must leave you.”
Branna jumped up and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands. “Tell me, you chattering elf!” She let him go and stepped back, blushing furiously. “A thousand apologies! I don’t know what made me do that. I mean, you’re not even an elf. It was wretchedly rude of me. Please forgive me!”
“You’re forgiven, and here’s one last bit of advice. Be careful around Gerran. He might carry the falcon mark, but I doubt me if he’ll ever turn into a bird and fly.”
“I figured that out on my own, good sir.”
“Good sir, is it?” Salamander grinned at her, and in a moment she smiled in return.
Arguing in quiet voices, Cadryc and Mirryn rounded the corner and bore down upon them. When Salamander jumped back out of the way, the two lords finally realized that they had an audience.
“Apologies,” Cadryc snapped. “Branna, my dear, I didn’t see you.”
“No harm done, Uncle.” Branna rose and curtsied. “I’ll just be going inside.”
The three men paused and watched her trot off, holding her skirts up to keep them free of the dirty ground.
“I’d best be going, too,” Salamander said. “My lords?”
They nodded their permission. Salamander hurried away, but he ducked behind the cook’s little gardening shed to eavesdrop.
“I’ll not argue one word more,” Cadryc was saying. “We’re leaving on the morrow, and you’re not, and that’s that.”
“But—”
“I said not one word more!”
In a few moments Mirryn stormed past Salamander without seeing him. Cadryc followed more slowly, shaking his head. Salamander stepped out and bowed to him.
“Your Grace?” Salamander said. “Forgive me if I presume, but one day your son is going to have to try his wings.”
Cadryc tossed his head like a startled horse and glowered at him. Salamander bowed again, then smiled in what he hoped was an ingratiating manner.
“Ah, well,” Cadryc said at last. “You’re right enough, gerthddyn. It’s just—” He paused, chewing on the corners of his mustache. “It’s just—well, you’re a gerthddyn. You must hear plenty of strange tales, eh?”
“More than a few, truly, my lord.”
“Imph.” Cadryc hesitated for a few moments more, then shrugged. “Well, there was a prophecy, you see. I’ve never told Mirryn or my wife about it, because