The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [156]
“True spoken.” Branna felt as if a cold wind had swept down the dark corridor. She shuddered and cast the feeling off. “But no one lives up in the Northlands, do they? I always heard that it was wilderness and little more.”
“So did I, but if naught else, there’s Dwarveholt, and various merchants from various towns do go to trade with Lin Serr.” Salamander heaved a deep sigh and contemplated the message tube. “Anyway, since your husband’s become Gerran’s personal chirurgeon, I’ve been pressed into Dar’s service as scribe and messenger both.” He made her a bow. “And so, as much as it pains me to do honest work for my living, I must take my leave of you and go find Ridvar.”
After Grallezar finished questioning Sharak, she asked Sidro to take him to Dallandra. While they stood beside Grallezar’s tent to talk, the exhausted boy knelt between them on the ground. In the flickering light from a campfire, his eyes were unreadable pools of shadow.
“He told me that young Neb rewrapped his wrist and fingers,” Grallezar said in their own language. “I don’t know anything about the healer’s craft, so I’d like her to make sure he did it correctly. I need to go consult with the prince.”
“Very well, I’ll be glad to take him,” Sidro said. “Sharak, come with me.”
He stood up, but he kept his gaze fixed on the ground.
“You look familiar,” Sidro said. “Do I know you?”
“I’m from Taenbalapan.” He spoke so softly that she could barely hear him. “I saw you in the temple there, Holy One.”
“I do remember. Your mother was very poor and came to us for charity. Is that why you enlisted so young? So she could draw your salary?”
He nodded. “I’m the second son. It was the First Son’s duty to stay with Mother and my sisters.”
“Well, she’ll have your death boon now,” Grallezar said. “No one’s going to know you’re still alive.”
His mouth twitched in the beginning of a smile, but he continued studying the ground at his feet. Would his mother mourn him, the expendable extra son? Sidro wondered. No doubt the coin would ease any grief she felt.
“You’re not really a slave, you know,” Sidro said. “You can look at me. No one keeps slaves among the Ancients.”
He did look up then, his eyes wide with surprise.
“You could even go back, if you wanted,” Sidro went on.
“I don’t want to.” He clenched his good hand into a fist. “They’ve betrayed our goddess, killing women like that.”
“Your goddess!” Grallezar snapped. “She never was mine. But that doesn’t matter now. Go along with Sidro, boy. I want to make sure that broken wrist’s going to heal.”
When Sidro walked off, Sharak followed her obediently, some three steps behind. It was going to take him a while to understand that he truly was a free man still. Later she’d make it plain to him that she no longer served Alshandra, Sidro decided. At the moment he appeared too dazed from all that had happened to him to understand subtleties.
They found Dallandra, who immediately agreed to look over Sharak’s injuries.
“Come over to this fire here,” Dalla said to the boy. “So I can see better.”
He stared bewildered until Sidro translated, then smiled. He turned to Sidro and bent one knee as a sign of his lower status. “Thank you, Holy One,” he said softly. “It’s so good of you to help such as me.”
“You’re very welcome,” Sidro said. “I’ll wait here in case the healer needs to tell you something.”
He knelt before her, then leaned forward and kissed the toe of her boot. With a bob of his head, he rose and followed Dallandra to the fire.
Sidro felt her eyes fill with tears, just a few and briefly. The boy