The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [161]
‘Well, thank you. I have to admit that I need something to wear besides this shift. I don’t suppose you thought to steal me some needles and thread.’
Laz swore under his breath.
‘That means no, I take it,’ Sidro said. ‘Oh well, maybe you can find a peddlar in the woods and waylay him.’
‘Ah, a jest! Your good humour returns at last. I can whittle you a bone needle. This cloth looks like a very loose weave to me.’
‘That will do, most likely. I can pull some of its own threads or lace it with thongs.’
‘Good. But you know, I did see something very odd in the woods, though not a peddlar, alas. When I was flying home, I spotted a small party of our Gel da’ Thae compatriots, on foot, coming down from the north.’
‘You didn’t summon your men to rob them, too?’
‘I considered it. They were leading a mule that looked pretty well loaded down. But I recognized their leader, so I decided to leave them alone.’
‘What? Who was it?’
‘The Most Exalted Mother Grallezar, head of the Braemel town council.’
For a moment Sidro found it impossible to speak. ‘In the forest?’ she said at last. ‘Not on the Braemel Road?’
‘Stumbling around among the trees, yes. Hiding from someone, I’d say.’
‘Do you know what that must mean?’
‘Your holy fools have taken over Braemel.’
‘Just that. It pains me to admit this, but I’m horrified.’
Dallandra had learned of Braemel’s fate from Grallezar herself, when the Gel da’ Thae leader finally reached her mind to mind and begged her for help. With an escort of thirty mounted archers, Dallandra rode out to find her just below the cliffs at the forest verge. Her archers led extra horses, because Grallezar had warned her that two of her four loyal men were wounded, one badly from a spear thrust to the ribs, and the other with an arm broken in a good many places from a blow with a heavy club. When they saw the elven party approaching through the grass, the Gel da’ Thae stopped walking and merely stood, heads bowed, to wait. Grallezar herself could barely stand. She leaned against a laden mule who looked as weary as she did.
With a shout, the Westfolk men surrounded them, then dismounted and hurried forward to help the men. Dallandra swung down from her saddle and rushed to greet her friend. Like the average Horsekin woman, Grallezar was taller than many Deverry men, and as well-muscled, too, but at that moment she looked frail. The dust of her frantic journey smeared the green tattoos covering her face. Somewhere in the forest she’d lost the leather cap that usually protected her shaved head, which had sprouted a brownish stubble in compensation. Her dress, once the finest buckskin, had rips and stains all over it. When Dallandra put her arms around her in greeting, she could feel Grallezar trembling.
‘Thank every god you’re alive!’ Dallandra said.
‘I suppose I’m glad, for all the good it is,’ Grallezar said. ‘I left Braemel with over twenty loyal people and as many horses. These four men and the mule are all that survived.’
‘Ah, gods!’
‘We had to fight our way free,’ Grallezar went on. ‘We managed to kill all the attackers. May the Light be thanked, I can scry out those filthy priest-dogs. I saw them waiting for their soldiers to return. By the time they realized they weren’t coming back, we were long gone.’
‘I cannot tell you how glad I am that you escaped.’
‘Dalla, they were going to burn our books. Every scrap of the dweomerlore we’ve put together with so much work over so many years—they wanted to burn it all.’
‘And you with it, I suppose.’
Grallezar shrugged her own danger away. ‘We saved it, though.’ Her voice broke, but she steadied it again. ‘Every book I had I brought, and I had copies of everything.’ She turned to stroke the mule’s nose. ‘He’s carrying them all.’
‘Good. Let’s get you and your men back to camp so I can treat