The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [216]
Pir took the proffered hand and clasped it. Since Salamander felt not the slightest trace of omen warning, he considered the matter settled. He and Gerran watched the men mount up and ride off, heading for the plateau and the forest. Neither of them used any sort of rein.
‘I’ve heard old tales about men like that,’ Gerran said. ‘Horse mages, aren’t they called?’
‘They are. We’re about to learn more about them, I suspect.’
‘Good. I wonder if he can teach our horses not to fear the dragons. It would be a handy thing, if he could.’
‘Ye gods! I’d not thought of that. Very handy indeed.’
‘We may be able to hold our own against these savages after all.’ Gerran turned cheerful. ‘In the long run, I mean.’
‘Mayhap we will, then.’
At least until the Alshandra people finish converting all the savage tribes, Salamander thought, but that was a thought he kept to himself.
Dallandra had spent much of the day waiting for Westfolk wounded, but her only patient turned out to be an archer who had been accidentally pierced in the fatty part of the thigh by the man standing behind him. Rather than a flood, the wounded Deverry men arrived in a trickle that the chirurgeons could easily handle.
‘The Meradan ran like rats, Wise One,’ the wounded archer told her. ‘The dragons did most of the fighting for us, especially the silver wyrm. You would have sworn he went berserk, dipping and swooping and killing the hairy swine right and left.’
‘He does go berserk,’ Dallandra said. ‘Now hold still!’
She was just finishing up her work when Calonderiel joined her. The commanders had decided what to do with the Gel da’ Thae priestess and those few prisoners of war who had survived their wounds.
‘I suppose Ridvar wanted to kill the lot,’ Dallandra said.
‘Not the women,’ Calonderiel said. ‘Let’s try to be fair to the lad. He heartily agreed that the women should be given horses and food for their journey back to Braemel.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘They’ll take care of the wounded Gel da’ Thae on the way. Voran’s going to give them letters to take to Braemel’s bunch of rabid priestesses and Alshandra rakzanir.’
‘Letters? What for?’
‘To give them our demands, of course. If they build this fortress again, we’ll burn it again. It’s as simple as that.’
‘I see. Let’s hope they see, too.’
‘Grallezar did the translating. She told us she’d embellished them a bit, too.’
‘With a few nasty remarks, you mean?’
‘Just that. Not even Ridvar dared argue about it.’
Towards sunset Dallandra scryed for Ebañy. When she saw him sitting alone at the edge of camp, apparently studying the distant northern horizon, she sent her mind out to his. He responded immediately.
‘There you are, oh princess of powers perilous! Is all well there?’
‘As well as it can be,’ Dallandra said. ‘What about in your camp?’
‘Uh, well, I’ve got something to tell you.’
Salamander’s tale came across as garbled. His mind jumped back and forth from the lost obsidian showstone to Pir the horse mage and Sidro, with a fair bit of worry about the growing number of Gel da’ Thae prisoners mixed in. Finally Dallandra interrupted him, as much to get a moment to think as for any other reason.
‘If this Pir’s surrendered to you,’ Dallandra told him, ‘then he’s not precisely a prisoner. No, I don’t think he’ll lead some sort of revolt, so please stop worrying about that. Grallezar’s made it clear to me that once a Gel da’ Thae surrenders, he’ll wait patiently to see what his wyrd may be—it’s a point of honour with them. As for the showstone, somehow I can’t say that I’m surprised you lost it. It’s been ill-omened from the beginning.’
‘Here! I didn’t precisely lose it. The raven stole it from me.’
‘It amounts to the same thing, doesn’t it? It’s gone.’
‘Um, well, yes, I suppose it does.’
‘The army’s marching tomorrow for the ford. We should reach it easily, Cal tells me. The day after, we should join up with you. Please try to stay out of trouble until we do. As for today, one of the dragons will be carrying messages