The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [43]
Long robes of cloth of silver swirled around them with each measured step. They held their heads high and rigid, balancing the weight of their plumed and studded headdresses. Gold and sapphires gleamed at their throats and in their earlobes; a long trail of peacock feathers swayed down their backs. As they passed each person kneeling along their route, in perfect unison the priests raised one hand and lowered it again, most likely in blessing, but they never spoke a word. Behind them came eight lads marching two abreast, dressed in dark blue linen, each carrying a silver sword two-handed and upright in front of him.
They marched the entire length of the fortress, turned in a perfectly executed sweep, and marched back again. The horns blared, the drums beat steadily, until the priests and their retinue returned to their tower by the door they’d left from. After so much processional music, the silence rolled around the courtyard like sound.
“Ye gods!” Rhodorix shook his head to steady down his hearing. “What was all that about?”
“I’ve got no idea,” Andariel said. “Maybe they just wanted a bit of fresh air.” He stood up, dusting the dirt from his knees. “They don’t tell us anything, and we don’t ask them anything. Those young lads with the swords? They have the right to kill anyone who insults a priest, and you never know what might insult them.”
Rhodorix got up to join him. “Those swords don’t look like they’d cut meat at table.”
“They look soft, but they’re not true silver. It’s some kind of mix. I don’t know what it is, but the Mountain Folk up in Lin Rej make it.”
“Oh. Well and good, then, Captain. I’ll remember what you say about the priests. They look a fair bit different than the ones from my own tribe, not that I would have crossed them, either.” Rhodorix paused, remembering Galerinos. “Well, except for the one who was a cousin of mine, but he was just an apprentice. Ye gods, no doubt I’ll never see him again, and that’s a pity.”
“It’s a hard thing, exile.” Andariel paused to look up at Reaching Mountain and the huge slabs of stone towering above. “I hope to the gods I never have to face it.” He reached out and gave Rhodorix a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Let’s go round up our lads and get to work.”
After the day’s riding lessons, Rhodorix went first to the bathhouse, then back to the chamber he shared with Gerontos. His brother was sitting in a chair by the window and eating bread and fruit from a tray on the table.
“What’s this?” Rhodorix said. “Does Hwilli know you’re out of bed?”
“She does. I’m not to walk any farther than this, but it’s time, she said, to see if the leg can bear weight.” Gerontos gestured at the tray of food. “There’s more there than I can eat.”
Rhodorix sat down across from him and picked up a chunk of bread and a knife to butter it.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Gerontos said. “Does Hwilli have a sister or a friend who might—” He let the words trail off.
Rhodorix grinned at him. “She doesn’t, not one who’s our kind of people.” He let the smile fade. “But she’s mine, Gerro. I know we’ve shared women before, but not this time.”
“Well and good, then. I just asked.”
“Naught wrong with asking.” Rhodorix bit off a mouthful of bread and ate it while he thought. “She has a friend named Nalla, though, who’s a bit of a spark in tinder, if you ask me. She might find a different sort of man interesting, like, if you can ignore the ears.”
“I’ll ask Hwilli if I can meet her, then. It’ll let her know that it’s not her I want to bed.”
“Very gallant of you.” He grinned again and reached for an apple. “How is the leg, by the by?”
“Healing, she says, and fairly fast as these things go.”
“Good. You’ll be riding again by winter, or so I hope.”
Eventually