The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [2]
‘Worms and slimes!’ Brel broke in. ‘I know all that. If the Council can’t remember it, they have gravel where their intellect ought to be.’
‘It’s a question of the proper wording,’ Garin snapped. ‘The Council needs to know that we’ve heard Lord Blethry speak the proper wording, and that I responded in the same way.’
Brel growled and cross his arms over his chest.
‘As is written in the documents pertaining to that war, that time of blood and darkness.’ Blethry took over again. ‘In that most solemn instance we did celebrate a victory over the army of the peoples known to us as Gel da’ Thae or Horsekin, when they made so bold as to besiege our city of Cengarn. In thankfulness for that aid, we did renew our bonds with the Mountain Folk who do inhabit the city of Lin Serr.’
‘I too did witness this,’ Garin said. ‘So be it.’
‘Are you two done now?’ Brel said.
‘We are.’ Blethry grinned at him. ‘You can tell the Council that we brought a sacrifice to the temples of proper manners.’
‘Huh!’ Brel snorted profoundly. ‘Oh, and welcome! It’s good to see you, by the way.’
‘My thanks.’ Blethry smiled again. ‘It’s good to see you too.’
Young boys carrying trays of food marched in and began to lay a meal upon the table: a platter of bats, disjointed and fried, a soft mushroom bread, and stewed purple roots of a sort new to Blethry. Kov shut the door after them, then sat on the floor for want of another chair. Garin poured everyone pewter stoups of a thick brown liquor, which Blethry had encountered before. He drank it in small sips and made sure he stopped well before he finished it. He noticed Kov doing the same.
While they ate, Blethry expanded upon his reason for coming to Lin Serr. Some of the savage Horsekin of the far north had turned themselves civilized—they’d become Gel da’ Thae, as settled Horsekin called themselves—but living in cities hadn’t slaked their thirst for war. They were building a fortress, Zakh Gral, on the edge of the grassy plains that belonged to the Westfolk.
‘How did you find it?’ Kov said. ‘Or was it the Westfolk?’
‘Not us nor them,’ Blethry said. ‘But a gerthddyn name of Salamander. He—’
‘Never mind that now,’ Brel cut in. ‘What matters is that they found it. Details later.’
‘We figure that it’s only the point of a salient,’ Blethry went on. ‘Other fortifications will follow, I’ll wager. Apparently they want to take over the western grasslands. They need pasturage for those heavy horses of theirs. And of course, they claim that their wretched fake goddess wants them to have it.’
‘Alshandra yet again?’ Brel said.
‘The very one. They refuse to believe she’s dead.’
‘How convenient for them,’ Garin muttered. ‘It’s amazing how these gods and goddesses always appear when someone wants someone else’s land.’
‘My thought exactly.’ Blethry nodded Garin’s way.
‘They won’t stop at the Westlands,’ Brel said. ‘But no doubt you realize that, or you wouldn’t be here. What’s this fortress like?’
In as much detail as Blethry could remember, he repeated Salamander’s description of the place.
‘It sits on the edge of a cliff over a river gorge,’ Blethry finished up. ‘Clever scum, the Horsekin.’
‘Wooden walls, did you say?’ Brel shot a significant glance Garin’s way.
‘For now,’ Blethry said. ‘They’re working hard at replacing them with stone.’
‘Huh,’ Brel said. ‘We’ll see how far they get. I take it that your lords have worked out some sort of plan to bring this fortress down.’
‘They have. Gwerbret Ridvar’s calling in all his allies, and what’s more, Voran, one of the princes of the blood royal, is on hand with fifty of his men.’
‘Only fifty?’ Garin said.
‘At the moment. He’s sure his father will send reinforcements. The messages may have reached Dun Deverry by now, for all I know. I left Cengarn weeks ago. As for the Westfolk, Prince Daralanteriel’s keen to join the hunt.’
‘He should be,’ Brel said drily. ‘He stands