The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [146]
Some hours after noon, Prince Voran, with all his men and his retinue, joined the alar down in the meadow. Salamander escorted the prince to Dar’s tent.
“We’ll be leaving on the morrow,” Voran told Dar. “I can’t say that I’m eager to get back to Cerrgonney, but duty is duty. I decided that we’d eaten enough of Ridvar’s provisions. He’ll need to bring his warband up to full strength, and his vassals will need to do the same, with the Horsekin raiding along the border.”
“Just so,” Dar said. “I wonder how many raiding parties they sent out? Huh, those men that broke through our lines—they’ll have an interesting tale to tell their officers if they manage to rejoin the main force. I hope hearing it makes them shit into their boots.”
Voran laughed and nodded. “Me, too. Now, if Lady Grallezar can get more information out of that Horsekin prisoner, I’d very much appreciate your sharing it with me.”
“Of course. You’ll be in—”
“Gwingedd. It’s the westernmost town in Cerrgonney, but still a long ride from your border. Well, I’ll be returning to Cengarn in late summer. If the news isn’t urgent, it can wait till then.”
News, however, arrived that very evening. Just as the sun was touching the western horizon, the silver wyrm flew in. Downriver from the camp and its nervous horses, the dragon met with the princes, Voran’s captain Caenvyr, and Calonderiel for a council of war. Salamander tagged along on the pretense of acting as a scribe, since Neb was staying in the dun to tend Gerran’s wound.
The dragon lay in the soft grass with his hind legs tucked under him and his forepaws neatly folded at his chest. In the silky twilight he seemed to glimmer, like a full moon, perhaps, shining among the green. The men stood around his enormous head, though Voran kept well back, more than glad, apparently, to let Daralanteriel speak for both of them.
“Rori, it’s a good thing we agreed to meet here,” Dar said. “We won’t be returning to the Red Wolf dun.”
“Very well,” Rori said. “Where will you be heading next?”
“West to Twenty Streams Rock, and then perhaps north up to the edge of the tablelands, depending on the grazing. Then maybe west again, assuming it’s safe to do so.”
“With luck it will be. I saw an army, all right. They’re Horsekin, not Gel da’Thae, so they must have come down from the far north.”
“I take it they’re heading south.”
“They are. I followed them for some days, keeping out of their sight. Here’s the interesting thing. They had about five hundred horsemen, some spearmen, some archers—a sizable amount of men, truly—but the baggage train was far larger than they’d need for themselves. Riding with it were a lot of important-looking men who weren’t armed, and then straggling behind were a troop of chained slaves.”
Voran came closer with an acknowledging nod the dragon’s way. “What I don’t understand is what they hope to gain. Aren’t the Northlands mostly wilderness, except for the Gel da’Thae towns and the like?”
“For now they are,” Rori said. “Wilderness can be turned into farmland quick enough. We destroyed Zakh Gral, so now they’ll have to start all over, if they want a fortress near the Westlands. No doubt they thought we’d never know if they built one out there.”
“Of course!” Voran said. “The slaves—they’re there to do the heavy work of building walls.”
Dar cursed under his breath.
“This lot may not be building the fortress itself,” Rori continued. “It doesn’t seem like they have enough men for that, truly.”
“They could be setting up a base camp for a push farther south,” Voran said. “If they’re going to build a new fortress, they’ll have to move a lot of men and materials south to the site.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Then those raiders we just thwarted were most likely sent as a feint, a move to keep us watching the border and not farther north.”
“An excellent point, Your Highness.” The dragon inclined his massive head in Voran’s direction. “Now, I intend to find out what they