The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [139]
‘Do you think so?’ Arzosah cocked her head to one side and considered this. ‘You’re quite possibly right. For now, however, I’m off to look for my dinner.’
‘Very well. I’ll go back to camp and get my own.’
Salamander waited until the camp had quieted down later that evening before he tried contacting Dallandra. As soon as his mind touched hers, he knew she was deeply troubled.
‘I heard from Niffa earlier,’ Dallandra told him. ‘Cerr Cawnen won’t be sending us any troops. They need every man they’ve got to stay home and guard their walls.’
‘Are the Horsekin prowling around?’
‘Not yet, but messengers rode in yesterday from Braemel. The council there has broken its alliance with Cerr Cawnen.’
‘Ye gods! What does Grallezar say about that?’
‘I haven’t been able to reach her.’
Simple common sense frightened him as much as any dweomer omen might have. ‘Do you think she’s dead?’ he said.
‘No. I’d feel that. She’s merely too upset about something to hear me. She’s more angry than frightened, though, which gives me hope. Her adoptive mother was the one who forged that alliance, you know.’
‘I didn’t know, actually. But no wonder the daughter’s furious.’
‘Just so. But the evil thing is, there’s no use counting on troops from Braemel, is there? Ebañy, I have to go. Here comes Prince Dar, and he needs to know about Cerr Cawnen.’
She broke off contact before he could answer. Worse and worse, he thought. That’s two allies lost. Thank all the gods for the Mountain Folk! And how was he going to tell this news to Prince Voran and Gwerbret Ridvar? He quite simply couldn’t, he realized, because even if he could convince them that dweomer could send messages, they would never believe that he possessed it. He’d played the babbling fool too long and too well.
On the morrow, the army reached the elven muster. Around noon, Salamander was riding just ahead of the baggage train when he heard shouting up at the van. Slowly the sound and the news travelled back along the length of the army—Westfolk tents ahead! Salamander turned his horse out of line, rode some hundred yards out to get free of the dust the army was raising, and saw like tiny clouds on the horizon the white peaks of elven tents. He nudged his horse to a trot and rode on ahead of the army.
Salamander had never seen a Westfolk camp so large or so organized. What with the archers, the swordsmen, the horse handlers and others who’d volunteered to act as servants, the packhorses and the travois loaded with supplies, it spread out as widely as a small Deverry town. Herds of horses grazed round the edge of the camp under the guard of mounted archers. Inside this ring ditches stood open for garbage and other leavings; they also provided a certain amount of protection, Salamander supposed, should there be an attack by Horsekin cavalry. In the middle of the area, tents marched in even rows.
Salamander dismounted and hailed the guards, who let him through. Leading his horse, he made his way through the camp. Everywhere he looked, swordsmen were coming and going with purposeful strides. Archers sat on the ground, straightening arrows, repairing fletching, testing bowstrings. He eventually found Prince Daralanteriel’s tent, painted with its distinctive roses, in the centre of a tight ring of other tents.
‘Ebañy!’ Dallandra hailed him. ‘Over here!’
She was standing in front of Calonderiel’s tent, one of the central ring. Two men and two women stood around her—healer’s assistants, Dallandra told him. One of them took his horse’s reins and led it away.
‘I’m counting on your help, too, once the battles start,’ Dallandra said.
‘Whatever I can do, I will,’ Salamander said. ‘I can fold bandages if naught else. But I shan’t be able to camp with you once the two armies start moving again. I have to stay with the Red Wolf. I’ve been sharing a tent with Gerran and young Clae.’
‘Ah yes, you’re Cadryc’s scribe now. I’m so pleased that Neb isn’t with the army.’ Dallandra glanced around, then pointed to a plain grey tent set a little apart from its neighbours. ‘Valandario’s still with us. She