The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [120]
By the time they’d finished, the wagons of the baggage train were creaking to a stop at the foot of the hill. Some of the men hurried off to fetch shovels. The prince watched them go, then turned to Gerran.
“I’d say that everyone’s been dead about three days,” Voran said.
“I agree, Your Highness,” Gerran said. “We’re going to find more carnage along the road to the north of here, I expect. I wonder how many more raiders there are?”
“I wonder where they are, too. What about Honelg’s old dun? The gwerbret left a fortguard there.”
“So he did, Your Highness. Let’s hope they’re standing a siege.”
“Or standing at all?” Voran’s voice turned grim. “Let’s hope, indeed. ”
“Here comes Caenvyr. Looks like he’s found somewhat.”
The prince’s captain came hurrying up, then bowed to the prince. He handed Gerran a bit of wood that had been cut and smoothed with an ax from the look of the marks left behind by the blade. It also carried two crude symbols carved with a dagger point: a drawing of a piggish creature and then a letter.
“I don’t know letters,” Gerran said. “Do you?”
“Just enough to know that’s an A,” Caenvyr said. “As in apred, perhaps?”
“Truly, that drawing looks like a boar to me, too,” Gerran said. “What does this mean?”
“I have no idea, my lord.” Caenvyr held out both hands palm upward. “I was hoping that you or his highness knew. I found it nailed up on the temple wall, so it must mean somewhat.”
Murmuring apologies, bowing to the prince, Nicedd joined Gerran. “I heard the captain mention Boars, my lord.” He looked at the scratched marks on the wood. “It’s them, all right!” Nicedd turned away and spat on the ground. “I might have known, my lord! They’re just the sort to murder a lot of helpless priests.”
“Here, what’s this?” Voran said. “Now look, silver dagger, Clan Apred was wiped out during the Cerrgonney Wars, or so I was told.”
“If Your Highness says so, then.” Nicedd ducked his head in an excuse for a bow.
“None of that!” Voran snapped. “If you know differently, tell me.”
“Well and good then, Your Highness. I come from up north in Cerrgonney. Those bastards of Boars live just over the border, between us and Dwarveholt. They’ve got a couple of duns up there, and they raided us whenever they could.”
Voran’s jaw dropped in surprise. He recovered himself with a quick nod. “Some of them must have escaped my ancestor’s justice, then,” Voran said. “And so you recognize their mark?”
“I do, Your Highness. I’ve always been told that they worship that Horsekin goddess, Al-what’s-it.”
“Alshandra,” Gerran said softly. “Well now, this is all starting to make sense.”
“True spoken, my lord,” Nicedd continued. “She’s their excuse for raiding. The lord I used to ride for caught one once and got some information out of him before he hanged him.”
“Why haven’t I heard about this?” Voran said.
“Well, um, Your Highness.” Nicedd began studying the ground. “I couldn’t say for certain, but Cerrgonney lords like to keep their troubles to themselves, if you take my meaning.”
“I’m afraid I do, but as justiciar, I’ll have to look into this further. ” He waved the wooden plaque in Gerran’s general direction. “Why would the raiders go out of their way to tell us who they are? It seems foolhardy.”
“Good question, Your Highness.” Gerran had been wondering the same thing. “They may have been leaving that bit of wood for the Horsekin, not for us, to show they’d done their part of a bargain. Or maybe they had a prisoner who wanted someone to know where she’d gone. I’m assuming it was a woman.”
“It might have been a castrated lad. If it was a woman, why would they have brought her along on a raid? She couldn’t have been taken captive here. The priests of Bel don’t allow