The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [60]
“Not the silver wyrm?” Tirn leaned forward as if to ensure that he’d heard a-right.
“The very one,” Enj said. “Mam, my heart aches for you. He’s been changed into a dragon, a real dragon, huge, wings, the lot. But there’s hope. Some of the Westfolk dweomerworkers are trying to turn him back, but it seems to be a blasted hard job.”
“Mayhap I can help them,” Marnmara said. “After all, he be my father.”
Angmar started to speak, then let out a sigh that carried half the woe in the world. She leaned her head against the back of her chair.
“Mam?” Enj said in Dwarvish. “Are you going to faint?”
Angmar shook her head no. Her eyes gazed far across the room and her lips moved briefly, as if in prayer. Marnmara got to her feet.
“Mam, Mam!” she said. “The shock’s been too much for you, hasn’t it? Here, Dougie, help me! Let’s get her up to her chamber.”
The Albanwr, a giant by Enj’s standards, rose and joined her. He easily picked up the exhausted Angmar and carried her away up the stairs with her two daughters trailing along behind. The men left behind merely looked at one another for a long space of time; then Mic broke the spell by burying his nose in his tankard and drinking deep.
“Goes to show,” Otho snarled. “This is what happens when you have dealings with a wretched elf. Turning into dragons! Hah!”
“Now, now,” Enj said, “it’s not somewhat that happens every day. He’s the only man of the Westfolk I ever heard of who grew wings.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” Otho snorted again. “You never know what they’ll do if they get some crazed thought in their minds.”
Enj decided that arguing the point was hopeless. Fortunately, Tirn changed the subject.
“The silver wyrm hates me,” Tirn remarked. “And I don’t even know why. Are you saying that he’s got Westfolk blood in his veins?”
“Cursed deep in them, apparently,” Mic said. “With all that dragon covering them.”
“True spoken.” Tirn flashed him a grin. “But I’d best be gone ere he arrives here.”
“Well, I don’t know if or when he’ll arrive,” Enj said. “There’s more trouble brewing with the Horsekin, you see, off to the east of Dwarveholt. He’s sworn to help protect the border.”
“Yet more war?” Tirn’s grin disappeared.
“Mayhap. No one’s sure if these raiders are a feint or a sign of worse to come.”
“I see. I was hoping that the burning of Zakh Gral would put an end to it, but obviously I was being an optimistic fool. Enj, I have Gel da’Thae blood, but truly, I hope the Deverry men beat the Horsekin back.” Tirn spoke quietly but firmly. “They represent the worst of my kind.”
“So we’ve learned,” Enj said. “Unfortunately.”
In her usual brisk way, Marnmara took charge of her mother. She helped her lie down on her bed, then opened the windows of the bedchamber to let in fresh air and sunlight.
“I’ll go get some herbs,” Marnmara said. “Dougie, you may go. Wynni, stay here until I get back!”
“As if I’d leave!” Berwynna said.
Marnmara bustled out as if she hadn’t heard her sister. Dougie gave Berwynna a comforting pat on the shoulder, then left the chamber. Berwynna sat down next to her mother and clasped Angmar’s hand in both of hers. Angmar sighed and lay limply, her eyes half-closed.
“I’ve had many a hard slap in my life from the Fates,” Angmar whispered in Dwarvish, “but this has to be the cruelest. I swear, Wynni, it would have been easier to hear that your father was dead than this.”
“Well, maybe those dweomerworkers can turn him back.” Berwynna did her best to sound optimistic. “After all, if magic made him a dragon, it should be able to unmake him. Shouldn’t it?”
“I’ve no idea, none.” Angmar let her eyes close, then opened them again. “My poor darlings! It must be just as hard on you.”
“Not truly. We never knew him like you did. Don’t vex your heart about us, Mam. You’ve got enough grief to bear as it is.”
“My thanks.”
“Besides, in a way it’s rather splendid, thinking I have a dragon for a father. Do you think mayhap he was always a dragon and could just take human form? If that’s so, then maybe he can change