The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [104]
“Good,” Rori said. “I need to get myself back to the prince’s camp.”
“No doubt he’s safer with you there.” A wink of gold on the dragon’s side caught Gerran’s attention. “Here, that wound’s finally healing!”
“So it is, and I thank every god for it, too. Neb’s the one who cured it.”
“He’s a marvel with his herbs, truly. I can parry with a shield as well as I ever could, thanks to him.”
“Good. I’d wondered about that wound. You know, there’s a real wisdom to be found in wounds.”
“Indeed?”
“You sound unconvinced.” The dragon rumbled with laughter. “I’ve learned that, these past years. Look at me. Do you think there’s a creature alive that could kill me?”
“I don’t. Maybe a squad of enemies, but then, you could just fly away from them.”
“True spoken. But you know, being invulnerable’s robbed me of the joy of living. When I was a human man and a warrior, every moment of peace I had glowed and warmed me like mead, because I knew that in the end, my Lady Death would take them all away from me. Now I face year upon year of tedium.”
That sounds splendid to me, Gerran thought, but aloud he said, “Well, your daughter told my lady that the elven mages were trying to turn you back into a man.”
“If I let them.” The dragon let out a long vinegar-scented sigh. “Ah well, Gerro, farewell! Let’s hope we meet again, but who knows where my wyrd will take me?”
“No man nor dragon either knows that. I’ll hope for the best for you.”
The dragon waddled away into the clear space of the meadow. He bunched his muscles, spread his wings, and leaped into the air. Gerran watched him soar, as tiny as a white bird against the bright sky, until he disappeared.
As soon as she’d seen Lady Solla’s maid, Penna, Berwynna had realized that her people belonged to the strange village folk up in the Northlands. She waited until she had a chance to be alone with Uncle Mic before she asked him if he’d seen it, too.
“Most assuredly,” he said. “Did you notice the one-armed gatekeeper? I think his name is Taurro. He’s one of them, too.”
“Twice a mystery, then! I’ll see what I may learn about them.”
Fortunately, Solla and Galla both knew the tale. They told Berwynna as they sat sewing in the women’s hall.
“They’re a brother and sister,” Galla said, “who used to live in a village farther west. Poor little Penna and the other village women were abducted by the wretched Horsekin, but, may the Goddess be thanked, our men rescued them last summer.”
“Now, Taurro was a rider in Gwerbret Ridvar’s warband.” Solla picked up the story. “He lost his arm in the fighting, and now he’s a dependent of my husband’s. He’ll be our gatekeeper once we’ve built our own dun.”
“I did wonder if they were bloodkin,” Wynni said. “They do much resemble each other.”
“Indeed they do,” Galla said. “Now, I’ve been told that the children weren’t born in that village. Their mother was widowed—I’m afraid I forget how—and ended up there when she married again.”
“Her first husband was a river fisherman who drowned,” Solla put in. “Penna mentioned that to me.”
Drowned? Wynni thought. Caught in a weir, mayhap, or a net, when he swam as an otter? The mystery began to intrigue her.
In the morning, Penna came into her chamber to bring her wash water and to set the chamber pot outside the door for a servant of lower rank to empty. While Berwynna washed, Penna bustled around the chamber, pulling back the heavy drape at the window, smoothing out the blankets on the bed.
“My lady Galla does say that she’ll find you a coverlet by nightfall,” Penna remarked. “She be ever so generous.”
“Most certainly she be that,” Wynni said. “Lady Solla, she be a kindly soul, too.”
“Oh, very! I know how lucky I be, to have fetched up here.”
“You come from the Northlands, bain’t?”
Penna turned half away and froze, staring at the curved stone wall of the chamber.
“Oh, here,” Wynni said. “My apologies. Never did I mean to frighten you.”
Penna turned around, and her pinched little face had gone pale. “How be it that you know that?” she said.
“I do come from the Northlands myself, though not from your people.