The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [83]
“Well, how do you think I feel?” Neb said with a snarl in his voice. “I only hear half of what goes on. Dalla dribbles out information like honey out of a spoon.”
“That’s part of being an apprentice.”
“Oh, I suppose, but ye gods! Here I used to be the Master of the Aethyr, and now they don’t even recognize me.”
“They? What?” Salamander looked straight at him. “Have you been trying to contact the Kings of Aethyr?”
“I—” Neb turned scarlet. “Uh, I—”
“You have, haven’t you? I can’t believe that Dalla thinks you’re ready to do so.”
“And I suppose you’re going to run right to her and tell her, you fool of a chattering elf!”
“Ah, alas, Nevyn used to refer to my younger self in just that unflattering manner. Here’s somewhat Neb needs to know. I can still play the chattering fool when I need to, but I’m much less of a fool than I used to be. For one thing, I know a dangerous trick when I see one played.”
Neb set his lips together tight. He slapped his reins on his horse’s neck, turned out of line, and trotted back toward the rear. Salamander twisted in the saddle and watched until he saw Neb guide his horse safely into line behind the wagons. Salamander turned back and let his horse follow the riders ahead while he focused his mind on contacting Dallandra. When he reported his conversation with Neb, Dallandra’s first response was to blame herself for not riding to Cengarn with them.
“Don’t,” Salamander told her. “You would have had to bring the baby, and how much attention could you have paid Neb anyway?”
“That’s very true. Getting pregnant when I did was the worst thing that could have happened. Dari’s going to take more and more of my time and attention.”
“Oh, come now. It’s not like you and the child are all alone in the world. You’ve got as many women around you as the queen herself! ”
Dallandra’s image grinned at him. “Very true,” she said, “and a very bracing thought. I don’t mean to wallow in self-pity. I just wonder if I should have asked you to take Neb on.”
“He would never have listened to me. He remembers too much, though not, alas, enough.”
“Judging from the way he insulted you, I’d have to agree. Of course the Kings of Aethyr won’t recognize him! He hasn’t developed the proper symbols in his aura, and he doesn’t really know how to greet them, either. Wretched little colt!”
“Mayhap we should be glad he doesn’t remember everything.”
“Well, that’s true. He might just leave his apprenticeship and try to strike off on his own.”
Salamander felt a ripple of omen-warning run down his spine. “Just so,” he said. “Wild and stubborn colts have a tendency to bolt. And then they get eaten by wolves.”
“Another good thought.” Dallandra pursed her lips in a sour scowl. “Do share it with Neb, if you’d not mind, and as soon as possible. Anything you can do to help him—I’ll be grateful.”
Late that afternoon Prince Daralanteriel and his escorts reached Cengarn. High on its rocky cliffs the gray city loomed above the green meadows below. The gwerbret’s dun loomed over the city, with its dark towers that rose high from a forest of slate roofs and stone walls. The prince called a halt in the meadow at the south gate, then turned in the saddle to consult with his vassals.
“Gerran,” he said, “I’d rather we all camped out here. Is that going to be acceptable to the gwerbret?”
“It won’t be, Your Highness,” Gerran said. “It’d be taken as an insult to his hospitality.”
Dar muttered something in Elvish under his breath.
“Most of our men can raise tents, if you’d like,” Gerran said. “But you and the banadar—and maybe Mirryn and me—we’ll have to stay in the broch for courtesy’s sake. Well, assuming his grace offers to put me and Mirro up. I’m sure Your Highness and the banadar will be welcome.”
“If my vassals aren’t welcome, then I’ll be leaving suddenly.”
“Your Highness?” Mirryn bowed from the saddle before he spoke. “I’d rather make a camp with my men out here if I can. It’s because of the way the gwerbret insulted my father. I’ll