The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [24]
Adorix grunted once, then shook his head. “Let them rot, then.” He held out his hand to Bercanos, who laid his own palm against it.
“Forgive me,” the Boar said. “My foul temper—”
“Mine’s no better,” Adorix said. “We’ve got more to worry about at the moment than my stupid son. If he was coward enough to live when his men died, then he can freeze in the hells for all I care. I have other get to take his place.”
“But—” Gallo began then swallowed his words. Arguing with Adorix was a good way to die young. “As you wish, honored one.”
“Well and good, then.” Brennos took command. “We can’t stand here jawing like a pack of old women. If there’s a river ahead, let’s get on the move. We can’t risk losing our horses.”
“Let us hope that Belinos and Evandar lend us their aid,” Caswallinos said and folded his hands with a pious expression on his face, one that Galerinos had seen before, whenever his teacher was hiding something.
Shouting orders, the warleader strode away with the other warriors trotting after. Galerinos turned to Caswallinos. “I thought you said Evandar wasn’t a god.”
“He’s not,” the old man said, grinning. “But they don’t need to know that, do they now? Keep silence, lad, whenever you can, and your life will be a fair bit easier. Now let’s find you a new horse and move out with the wagons. Tonight, however, I want to hear more about this curse of yours.”
The sun crept down the western sky and shone full-strength onto the hillside. Gerontos’ face had turned a dangerous shade of red. “If only we had some water,” he whispered.
“True spoken,” Rhodorix said. “This cursed stretch of country is all dust and thorns.”
“I wish we’d stayed by that harbor. We could have built a city there.”
“The omens weren’t right.”
Gerro nodded and closed his eyes.
“It’ll be cooler when the sun goes down,” Rhodorix said.
Gerro never answered. It’ll be too cold, most likely, Rhodorix thought, and us with not one cloak between us.
As if in answer to his thoughts, a shadow passed across the sun. He looked up to see a lavender cloud, a small smear of color at first against the blue. The cloud grew larger, sank lower, and formed a perfect sphere of mist. Out of the mist swooped a hawk, an enormous red hawk, shrieking as it glided down toward them. For the briefest of moments it hovered a few feet from the ground, then with a shimmer of silver light Evandar dropped down lightly and stood, back in his more-or-less human form. The lavender sphere vanished.
“I’ll take you somewhere safe,” Evandar said. “Can you get your brother onto his feet?”
“He can’t stand up,” Rhodorix said. “Maybe I can carry him over my back.”
The god frowned, considering Gerontos, who had slumped down against the boulder. Rhodorix had a panicked moment of thinking him dead, but he opened his eyes with a groan.
“I’ll bring help.” Evandar snapped his fingers and disappeared.
And how long will that take? Rhodorix wondered if Gerro would live long enough for this promised help to arrive. He scrambled up and stood between his brother and the sun to cast a little shade. He heard Gerontos mutter something and glanced back to see him trying to swat away the flies that were crawling on the blood-soaked bandage.
“Leave them be,” Rhoddo said. “Save your strength.”
When he returned his gaze to the hillside, he saw the lavender mist forming in midair. A vast cloud of it hovered in the form of an enormous ship under full if ragged sail, which first settled to the ground, then began to thin out, revealing Evandar and a tall man wearing what seemed to be a woman’s dress, a long tunic, at any rate, with gold embroidery at the collar and hem. Around his waist, he wore a belt from which hung a good many pouches. This fellow had the same peculiar ears as Evandar, and his hair was just as yellow, but his cat-slit eyes were a simple gray. He started to speak, saw Gerontos, and trotted forward, brushing past Rhodorix to kneel at the injured man’s side.
The last of the mist-ship blew away. Four stout young men appeared, carrying a cloth litter slung from long