The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [132]
‘Ah by the red scabby balls of the Lord of Hell!’ Mirryn pulled the cloak off and threw it onto the cobbles. His horse snorted and danced a few steps back. ‘Hold and stand, you mangy mule!’
As if it knew it were being insulted, the horse laid its ears back, but it did stand.
‘You might as well take him back to his stall,’ Branna said. ‘Besides, you promised the prince you’d stand surety for Matto, didn’t you? How can I let you sneak away from that?’
‘You wretched little tattle-tale!’
Branna started to retort, but all at once an omen took over her mind and mouth. She could hear her own voice, cold and hollow, speaking beyond her power to stop it.
‘Much evil would come from your riding, more than you can know, Lord Mirryn. It’s a right thing that your father bade you stay. Soon, at the turning of next year towards spring, your time of war will come, and your glory will travel the kingdom.’
The omen left as suddenly as it had taken her, leaving her cold and trembling. Mirryn was staring open-mouthed.
‘What was that?’ he whispered.
When she staggered, he grabbed her arm with one hand and her opposite shoulder with the other. Gratefully she let him steady her.
‘Mirro, please, stay here. You’ve got to, you’ve just got to.’
For a long moment he hesitated; then he nodded. ‘Maybe I’d best do just that. I’ve heard you say strange things before, Branni, but this takes the prize at the tourney!’
‘It’s an omen, that’s all.’
‘That’s all? What do you mean, that’s all?’
‘I don’t know.’ She held up a shaking hand. ‘Mirro, I’ve got to get somewhat to drink. My mouth’s as dry as a bone.’
Mirryn took her into the great hall and brought her a pitcher of water and a cup. Branna gulped the first cup down, then sipped the second while he hovered nervously by her chair. ‘Ah,’ Mirryn said suddenly. ‘Here’s the gerthddyn.’
‘What?’ Branna turned on the bench and saw Salamander strolling in the door. ‘You didn’t ride with the army?’
‘The army’s still milling around the meadow.’ Salamander walked over and made her a bow. ‘It takes a long time to get that many men on the road. They can’t all start moving forward at the exact same moment, you know. I’ll ride near the end of the line, so I’ve time to come say farewell.’ Abruptly he leaned closer. ‘Are you ill or suchlike?’
‘Just tired. I had an odd dizzy spell out in the ward a moment ago.’
Mirryn started to speak, then merely gave the gerthddyn a vacant smile.
‘Truly?’ Salamander hesitated for a moment. ‘Well, I’m glad Neb will be staying here. Between his lore and that herbal Dalla sent you, he should be able to tend you if you need it.’
‘I don’t,’ Branna said. ‘Now, you take care of yourself, will you? I do worry so.’
‘Oh, I have no intention of getting anywhere near the fighting, I assure you!’ Salamander glanced at the door. ‘I’d best leave. My lord Mirryn, fare thee well.’
‘Same to you, gerthddyn,’ Mirryn said. ‘And may the gods speed you all to the war and bring you all home again as well.’
Salamander bowed, then hurried out to the ward. Branna went to the door and looked out just as he was mounting his horse. He waved to her, then clucked to the horse and trotted out of the gates. May the true Goddess watch over you. The thought brought her a peculiar sense of knowledgeable dread, one that she could only explain as dweomer. Someone else was on the watch for Salamander, someone female, and whoever she was, she meant him no good.
Sidro often did try to scry for Evan the minstrel, as she thought of Salamander. Every now and then she received a faint, momentary impression of him but naught more. Those moments always seemed to come just after sunrise and sundown. Mostly, though, she could only sense, rather than clearly see, some sort of sphere or shield glowing around him. Of his whereabouts she could see nothing.
‘He’s probably building a sphere of light around himself,’ Laz told her when she asked. ‘Master Hazdrubal