The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [215]
‘You’re telling me you all have dweomer.’
‘Not all, just some. The rest did come for their own reasons. But I be a horse mage, should you ken what that may be, and Vek here does see omens.’
For the first time in many years Salamander could think of nothing to say. He gawked at them, then mentally shook himself and caught Pir’s gaze to determine if the man lied. When the horse mage looked steadily back, Salamander recognized him. After the long lapse of years, he could no longer remember the name of the miserable human being he’d once run across, the man whose instinctive dweomer gifts had ensorcelled Jill, but he knew him. Pir took a sudden step back.
‘No need to fear,’ Salamander said. ‘You seem to be what you say you are.’
‘I be not a man good at lying,’ Pir said, ‘unlike some among us. I did come first to ask of you, shall we be safe if we come to surrender? Sidro does have reason to fear your army’s dragons, among other things.’
‘It’s only the silver wyrm who threatened her. He’s already been told to leave her alone. Tell me somewhat—is the raven mazrak among your people?’
‘He was, but he be there no longer, and therein lies a truly strange tale.’ Pir shook his head in bafflement. ‘He did vanish from the face of the world, as far as any of us do know. The black pyramid that he did steal from you? It did steal him in turn from us.’
Once again Salamander found himself at a loss for words. He longed to get Dallandra’s advice, but of course the battle casualties would be engrossing her utterly. He would offer these refugees shelter, he decided, and wait till he reached her to do anything more. But there’s Gerran! he thought. He can be downright murderous.
‘Wait here,’ Salamander told Pir. ‘I want to ensure you’ll be safe before I accept your surrender.’
‘So be it. I’ll let our horses graze while we wait.’
Salamander hurried back towards camp, but Gerran met him half-way.
‘Now who’s that?’ Gerran said. ‘More dweomermen?’
‘They are, and they want to surrender.’
Gerran sighed with all the weariness in the world. ‘More dweomermen,’ he said eventually. ‘And?’
‘Will they be safe, Gerro? Or will the tieryn order them killed?’
‘If he does, I’ll bring him to his senses quick enough. Do you really think Cadryc would murder helpless prisoners or that I’d let him dishonour himself that way?’
‘From the way you talked the other day—’
‘Killing a man in battle is one thing. I’m ready enough to do that any time they offer me a fight. But killing someone who’s given himself up?’ Gerran’s hand went to his sword-hilt. ‘What do you think I am?’
‘An honourable man, sure enough.’ Salamander flung up both hands and stepped back fast.
Gerran laughed, the flare of temper gone. ‘I’ll go speak to them,’ Gerran said.
‘Good. There’s fifteen of them—his folk, this fellow called them—still to come, but they don’t all have dweomer.’
‘Very well. Here, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Has the battle at the Braemel road begun yet?’
‘Why do you think I’d know?’
Gerran looked at him with a sour twist to his mouth.
‘Um, well, truly,’ Salamander said. ‘It has, and it appears that the army of the two princes is winning handily.’
‘Well and good, then. I expected an easy victory. Those poor bastards had no idea of what they were riding into.’
They walked on and joined Pir and the lad. Nearby their horses grazed. Salamander noticed that both mounts wore rope halters rather than bridles. Gerran seemed to be studying them, and he had a sharp look for Pir’s odd mane of hair, too.
‘This is Lord Gerran of the Gold Falcon,’ Salamander said.
‘Morrow, milord,’ Pir said. ‘Be it that you be able to promise my people sanctuary in your camp?’
Gerran struggled briefly with the unfamiliar dialect. ‘I can and I will,’ he said at last. ‘Salamander here told me there’s more of you.’
‘There be that, my woman among them.’
‘How soon can you fetch them?’
‘Before sunset, easily.’
‘Done, then.’ Gerran held out his hand. ‘You have my word of honour that none of you will be harmed unless someone gives me cause.’
‘I’ll be leaving behind any of