The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [190]
Laz nodded in agreement.
“But, Da,” Berwynna joined in. “Be it that you want not the book? What you say does make me wonder if you do or not.”
Rori made a sound that fell halfway between a growl and his rumbling laugh. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “I truly don’t know if I want it or not.” He lowered his head in order to look at her face-to -face. “And that’s the only answer I can give you today.”
“Well and good, then, but I—”
Berwynna broke off speaking when Rori stood up, clumsy on his short, bowed legs. His tail slashed through the grass behind him. “I’m going to hunt,” he announced. “Leave me!”
Berwynna found herself glad to do just that. She followed Laz as he ran back to the caravan with no pretense of courage. Already the men had lit campfires against the gathering night. When she reached the edge of the warm glow she stopped, out of breath, and turned to look back. The dragon was just launching himself into the air in a blur and thunder of wings. She watched as he circled, gaining height, then flew westward to disappear into the last glow of the sunset sky.
Berwynna’s mule had nearly reached the river when it smelled a herd close by. It stopped walking and threw up its head to sniff the wind—a herd, most assuredly. When it brayed, it heard a distant answer. As it trotted toward the sound, it kept testing the wind. The scent of two-legged things came with the scent of other mules and of horses, a different scent than the two-legged things it was accustomed to. When at last it saw the herd, turned out to pasture for the night, it saw the two-legged things as well. These had manes of black hair—very different than the other ones, who had short light manes, but the mules and horses looked and smelled like its old herd.
It was a huge herd, too, covering a long stretch of grass. No wolves could threaten any herd this large. Cautiously, with one eye out for a stallion, the mule took a position out on the edge. Another mule nickered in friendly greeting. No one challenged it. With a sense of overwhelming relief, it lowered its head and began to graze.
"Dalla?” Sidro said. "Laz, he be coming this way.”
"What?” Dalla said. "You’re sure?”
"Truly. I did dream of him last night, and when I woke, I did know the dream were true. There be somewhat wrong with his hands. They be scarred, and some of his fingers, they be gone.”
“Are you surprised? From the way you described what happened when he touched those crystals together, it’s amazing that he’s not dead or at least blind.”
Sidro sat down in the grass near Dallandra, who was perched on a fallen log, nursing little Dari. Every now and then Dari let go of the nipple to whine and squirm in her mother’s arms.
“Her bottom be sore,” Sidro said.
“I know. I put some oil on it. It’s those beastly rags we were using at the Red Wolf dun. Out here I’ve been filling her carry sack with grass. The rash already looks better.”
“That be a splendid idea, the grass. Then when it be soiled, you just pour it out and pull more. I do wish I’d known that, back when I had my own little one.”
A good many miles west of Cengarn, they were sitting at the edge of the royal alar’s camp, watching the men strike camp. Sidro could see Pir walking among his share of the horses, talking to one here, stroking another’s neck there. The geldings and mares clustered around him or followed when he moved on, though the golden stallion kept his distance. Whenever one of the mares rubbed up against Pir, the stallion would lay his ears back, but he never attempted to bite the herd master.
“Have you told Pir about Laz?” Dallandra said.
“I haven’t.” Sidro felt the familiar anxiety rise, trembling her hands. “I know not what to do, Dalla.”
“Well, I’m not you, but if I were, I’d tell Pir and see what he says.”
“You be braver than I.”
Sidro stood up and shaded her eyes with one hand as she searched for Pir, who had momentarily disappeared from view. He reappeared by standing up; most likely he’d been checking