The Silver Mage - Katharine Kerr [96]
“So much for the splendor of the past,” was Dar’s only comment. Rori’s report on the new Horsekin fortress, however, brought more of a response from the prince.
“Very well,” Dar said. “If they’re putting so much work into that fortress, they won’t be raiding our borders, I suspect.”
“Not this summer, maybe,” Cal said. “Once they get their safe haven built, that’s when they’ll be coming south.”
Among the listeners a few whispered, a few swore in a soft breath of sound, quickly squelched when Dar began to speak again.
“Eventually we’ll have to deal with them, but for now, let’s continue on our way west,” the prince said. “I want Dallandra to send messages ahead of us to Cerr Cawnen. They’re our allies, and we need to consult with them. The Horsekin are closer to them than they are to us.”
Everyone turned to look at the dragon, lounging in the grass nearby. Rori nodded his massive head.“Cerr Cawnen needs to go on alert.”
When Dar got to his feet, the other members of the alar rose, too, and silently followed him. Dallandra felt danger like smoke in the air, choking her. Momentarily she saw smoke, spreading out like a vast fan into the air.
“Are you ill?” Rori said.
“No, just an omen.”
“Just.” The dragon rolled his oddly human eyes.
“Well, we already know how dangerous the wretched Horsekin are. I’m surprised that I’m receiving omens about it. Usually one gets them about unknown things.” She stood up, suddenly irritable. “I’m going back to—no, wait! Here comes Neb.”
With greetings all round, Neb strode up. Sylphs clustered around him in the air, and gnomes pushed their way through the thick grass at his feet. Rori flopped over on his side to allow him to examine the gash, a stubborn pink stripe on his silvery body.
Neb ran a cautious hand over the scales just above the wound. “Does that hurt?”
“Not truly,” Rori said, “though I can feel it. My hide’s thin about there.”
Neb made a thoughtful grunting sound, then ran his hand under the wound, back and forth several times. He muttered something too low to comprehend, then stepped back a pace. From the vague look in his eyes, Dallandra could tell that he’d opened his sight. He shook his head, then turned to speak with her. His eyes appeared normal again.
“Dalla, this is most peculiar,” Neb said. “It almost looks like he’s got a splinter under his skin, a big one, but at root just like a carpenter might get in his finger.”
Dallandra gaped at him.
“It’s not somewhat natural,” Neb went on. “I can see a dark mark in the aura, a straight flat line, though it’s thicker at one end. It’s like the splinter is somehow sucking the life force into itself.”
“If somewhat’s draining energy from his aura,” Dallandra said, “it’s no wonder the gash won’t close. I—” She hesitated, letting elusive memories rise. “Oh, by the Black Sun! The silver dagger!”
“What?” Neb and the dragon spoke together.
“Rhodry, I mean, Rori, your silver dagger! I never found it among your clothes after the transformation. Evandar was using it as a kind of focus for the dweomer that was building you a new astral body.”
“Ye gods!” The dragon lifted his enormous head to look at her. “I can remember that, though not very clearly. It’s like trying to remember a dream, but I was holding the dagger. I threw it into the air, and then—” He growled, baffled. “That’s all I can remember. I woke, and I was a dragon.”
“Indeed you were.” Dallandra laid her hand where Neb’s had been and pressed, making the dragon grunt in pain. She could feel something hard under the scaly hide. “It’s about the right size for a silver dagger. Neb, I’ve long thought that the daggers glow when one of the People touch them because they’re absorbing force from our aura.”
“That makes sense, truly,” Neb said.
“If we held one long enough, it might well kill us, or at least, leave us gravely ill. Rhodry was only half an elf, of course, and besides, a dragon has a tremendous amount of life force. Doubtless, a silver dagger would only irritate a wound rather than cause worse harm.”
“Why would Evandar have let it be