The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [209]
In his mind he heard the raven squawk. The eyes vanished. The mazrak had learned at least some of his dweomer by rote, Salamander could suppose, rather than from first principles.
Salamander wrapped the pyramid in his old shirt, secured the bundle with the thong, then laid it beside him on the grass. When he glanced at the horizon, he saw that the sun was perhaps an hour away from setting. What would Dallandra be doing? he wondered. He considered contacting her, but his stomach growled alarmingly, reminding him that he’d left his rations back at camp. He got up, then bent over to pick up his bundle. Just as he touched it, he heard the rush of wings behind him.
The raven mazrak slammed into him and sent him sprawling on his face into the grass. Salamander rolled over, got to his knees, and grabbed for the bundle, but the mazrak had seized it with strong claws. Flapping hard, he rose into the air. Salamander scrambled up, ran after, and leapt as high as could to snatch at the bundle. Not high enough—he fell flat on the ground. The raven shrieked in triumph and flew off, heading for the forest. Salamander got up and ran a few yards after him before he realized the chase was hopeless.
‘You filthy scavenger!’ he screamed after him. ‘You foul and scabrous carrion crow! You—you—’ He stopped and panted for breath. He could transform and fly after, he supposed, but by the time he stripped off his clothing and worked the dweomer, the mazrak would have such a long lead on him that he’d never catch up. He could only stand and watch while the raven dwindled to a black speck in the sky, then disappeared.
From the direction of the camp he heard a human voice yelling his name. He turned to see Gerran, running towards him with drawn sword.
‘What in the name of the Lord of Hell was that?’ Gerran called out. ‘Are you unharmed?’
‘Unharmed I am,’ Salamander called back, ‘except for my wounded pride. As to what—a thieving bird.’
Gerran stopped and sheathed his sword, then waited, his arms crossed over his chest, for Salamander to walk over and join him.
‘A bird, was it?’ Gerran said. ‘Biggest blasted bird I’ve ever seen.’
‘Well, what else could it have been?’ Salamander forced out a smile.
‘That’s what I’m asking you. It didn’t look like a young dragon. Didn’t smell like one, either.’
‘How perspicacious you are, Gerro, clear of eye and keen of mind, astute—’
‘That’s enough blather, gerthddyn. What was it?’
‘Oh very well! It was a dweomermaster who can turn himself into a bird at will, and he just stole an enchanted stone from me.’ Salamander grinned when Gerran’s jaw dropped in surprise. ‘There! Now you know.’
Salamander stalked off, heading for the horse herd. In a few long strides Gerran caught up with him.
‘What are you doing?’ Gerran said.
‘Fetching my horse. I’m going after him.’
‘You’re doing no such thing. It’s almost dark, and you can’t ride into an unknown forest in the dark. Get back to camp.’
‘Who in all the hells are you to—don’t you give me orders!’
‘I happen to be the captain of Tieryn Cadryc’s warband, and you’re one of his servitors. You can take my order, or I’ll knock the shit out of you and carry you back to camp.’ Gerran’s voice was perfectly mild, and his face showed not a trace of any emotion. ‘Well, which is it?’
Salamander considered putting up a fight, dismissed the thought as a death wish, and took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
‘Camp it is,’ Salamander said. ‘If dweomer could turn someone into a frog, though, you’d be hopping hard for the nearest stream.’
Gerran’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. During the walk back, neither of them said a word. Although Salamander considered contacting Dallandra and telling her what had happened, he quite simply felt too embarrassed. The morning, he decided, would be time enough for yet another humiliation.
By the time Laz returned to the cabin, night had fallen. In his beak he carried the cloth bundle, dangling by its thong. Even though