The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [185]
“Wynni!” Mic said with a groan. “Be honest, now! Books don’t will people to do things.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Laz’s mood changed to the utterly serious. “I’ve had that experience myself, with things that had dweomer upon them.”
Berwynna felt a thin sliver of hope that she’d not disgraced herself. “Be that true?” she said.
“Very true.” Laz held up his hands with their stumps of fingers. “This is the result of listening to a pair of wretched dweomer crystals. The book might well have influenced you. I know that the wretched thing could move itself.”
“It what?” Mic’s voice turned feeble. “That’s impossible.”
“But, Laz,” Berwynna said. “There be no dweomer in my soul.”
“Very true. That’s what makes you so vulnerable to it. Mic, that book is crawling with guardian spirits. I’ve no doubt they could move the thing and bend Wynni to their will. The only question is why they wanted to.” Laz frowned, thinking. “Well, here, let me scry for it.”
Laz turned a little away. Berwynna could see the change in his face: a slackness, a loss of focus about the eyes. After a moment he shrugged. “I suspect it’s still in the saddlebags. All I see is a vague impression of darkness. How were you carrying it? Did you have those oiled wrappings around it?”
“That, and one of my dresses.” Berwynna felt like weeping in frustration. “I did wish no harm to befall it.”
“Alas, unless someone finds it and opens the bundle, I’m blind to it.”
“What about the mule? Could it be that you can scry for it?”
“I never saw your mule, so I cannot. But don’t be too harsh on yourself, Wynni. For one thing, we don’t truly know what was in the wretched book. For another, its spirits were in charge, not you.”
“My thanks. Yet my heart does ache with shame—”
“Tell your heart to hold its tongue.” Laz flashed his knife-edge grin, but she saw no humor in his eyes. “Mic’s right about one thing. You’ve got to get this pitiful excuse for a caravan moving again.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “As for me and my fellow outcasts, we’ll be leaving you.”
“What?” Mic said. “Why? Are you daft? Those Horsekin outnumber you.”
“It’s the dragon,” Laz said. “He hates me, you see. I don’t know why, but he does, and he’ll kill me. My one chance is to try to slip away. I’ve told my men that if he comes after me, they’re to run like the hells are opening up under them. There’s no reason for them to perish miserably with me.”
Berwynna spun around and looked for her father. A good distance away, Rori was sitting on his haunches like a giant cat, his tail curled around his forelegs. He was looking off to the east, most likely watching for their enemies.
“But the Horsekin!” Mic repeated.
“We’ll have to take our chances with them,” Laz said. “I don’t suppose any of us will be much of a loss should they catch us, after all, since we—”
“You saved our lives,” Berwynna interrupted. “Let me go talk with him.”
Berwynna took off at a trot before Mic or Laz could stop her. She ran to the edge of the barrow, scrambled down the side, and hurried over to the dragon. He lay down with his front legs stretched out in front of him and lowered his head to speak with her.
“Is somewhat wrong?” Rori said. “You look troubled.”
“I be so,” Berwynna said. “Da, you do know that we did nearly die, all of us, when the Horsekin did attack the caravan.”
“I do, truly. And?”
“Know you why I didn’t die?”
“I don’t, though I was wondering about that.”
“Some Horsekin, they nearly did capture me. I did fight and nearly get free, but in the end, they would have taken me. There were three of them, and I were cut off from our men. But just then, rescuers did ride up, men we’d not seen before, men who be outlaws among the Gel da’Thae because they worship not the demon Alshandra. They did ride and fight and save us, but two of them, they were slain, Da. They did give their lives to save mine and Uncle Mic’s and the rest of the men, just like my Dougie did die fighting to save us.”
The dragon opened his massive jaws in surprise. “By every god,” he said at last, “then those men are