The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [208]
‘I’m always right.’ Arzosah yawned with a flash of fang. ‘I flew over the other part of the army, by the by, on my way here. They’ve reached the ford safely. I did notice that some servants were digging a grave, but it looked big enough for just one man.’
‘I was afraid that some of the wounded weren’t going to live much longer. Well, I’ll hope that whoever it was is the last to die.’
Tieryn Cadryc’s contingent had made camp early that afternoon to bury Tieryn Gwivyr and let the other wounded rest. After servants slung Gwivyr into the grave, Gerran jumped in to lay Gwivyr’s sword on his chest and clasp his hands on its hilt. Salamander helped him climb out again, and together they watched the servants shovel dirt over the body.
‘My heart aches for little Branna,’ Gerran said. ‘He was her father, after all.’
‘So he was,’ Salamander said. ‘Well, he’s not the only good man who’s died in this war.’
‘He won’t be the last, either, if there are more Horsekin on the way to Zakh Gral.’ With a shrug, Gerran turned away. ‘Let’s go draw our rations.’
Over by the horse herd, servants were handing out packets of food from an open wagon. As Gerran and Salamander walked up, Salamander noticed a skinny little brown-haired lass waiting patiently while men were served ahead of her.
‘That’s Tarro’s sister.’ Salamander pointed her out to Gerran. ‘She was taken from Neb’s old village. I suppose she’s bringing food to her brother. I heard he was badly wounded.’
At Gerran’s approach the other men stepped back to let him go to the head of the line, but Gerran gestured to the lass.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked. ‘And how fares your brother?’
‘Penna, my lord.’ She made a passable curtsey. ‘He’s healing as well as he ever will. He lost his left arm. I’m taking care of him, though, and so he’ll get better.’
‘Give him my sympathies.’ Gerran turned to the servant. ‘Give this lass what she needs right now, enough for both her and her brother. She’s not safe, waiting around here with the men. From now on, give out her share as soon as she gets here.’
The servant looked shocked, but he answered politely enough. ‘I will, Lord Gerran. As you wish, of course.’
Penna gave him a brilliant smile and curtsied again. Once she had the rations, she trotted off, disappearing among the tents.
‘Tarro was one of Ridvar’s riders,’ Salamander remarked. ‘The gods only know what will happen to them now.’
‘They’ll have a place in my dun if they want it.’ Gerran gave him a smile twisted with irony. ‘When, of course, I get a dun. I’ll send Clae to tell them.’
Once they received their rations, much the worse for wear from their long journey, Salamander found he had little appetite. When he stowed his share of crumbling flatbread and rancid salted meat in his saddlebags, he noticed the bundle containing the black pyramid. Studying the gem would provide a splendid distraction from his grief. He carried the bundle a little ways away from camp, out in the grass to a comfortable spot not far from the forest verge, but he made sure that he stayed close enough to yell for help should there be any trouble. While he’d not received any dweomer omens, ordinary thoughts of mounted Horsekin attacks had occurred to him.
He unwrapped the banner made from his old shirt and spread it out on the ground, then sat down cross-legged and placed the crystal upon it. Once again he saw Evandar, standing upon the pier at Haen Marn, displaying the book, then fading away. Yawning, he leaned forward in hopes of seeing a different vision, but the sun was hot upon his back, and the events he’d just lived through had left him exhausted. He was half-asleep by the time he saw something move inside the pyramid.
He picked up the showstone, looked into it through the clipped apex, and saw brown eyes staring back. Dimly he could see the rest of the mazrak’s face, as sharp-edged as he’d been remembering it. The brown eyes stared, wide and unblinking. Ye gods! Salamander thought. He’s trying to ensorcel me right through the stone!
‘It won’t work,