The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [222]
‘Yes.’
‘Sort of. It’s shrinking, though.’
‘Good. When it’s all the way gone, he won’t feel the arm any longer.’
Meranaldar looked as if he might gag on shock. Dallandra got up, slipped her arm through his, and steered him out of the tent.
‘That girl!’ Meranaldar said in Elvish, and he whispered for good measure. ‘Is she human?’
‘No, of course not! I don’t know what she is, though, or her brother, either. I’ll have to meditate on this. Farm folk, were they? I just wonder.’
Together she and the scribe strolled back to her tent. They were standing outside, talking idly, discussing bits of news from the princes’ council, when Calonderiel emerged. He laid a hand on Dallandra’s shoulder.
‘There you are,’ he said. ‘I was wondering.’ He turned to Meranaldar and frowned. ‘You may go.’
‘Oh, you think so, do you?’ Meranaldar said. ‘I was talking with Dallandra, not awaiting your orders.’
Calonderiel released his grip on Dallandra, stepped forward, and slapped the scribe so hard across the face that he staggered back and nearly fell. When Calonderiel slapped him again, from the other direction, he did fall, sprawling backwards, clutching his face with both hands. Blood oozed between his fingers. Calonderiel bent down and reached for him, but Dallandra grabbed the back of his tunic and yanked so hard that he choked and straightened up again.
‘Stop it!’ she snarled. ‘Just stop it right now!’
Shouts, the sound of footsteps—men came running. Dallandra handed Calonderiel over to Danalaurel and two other archers. The three of them hedged him in while they murmured apologies, not to the scribe, but to the banadar for having to interfere. Calonderiel, however, had come to himself by then. He shook himself likea wet dog and glared at Meranaldar, who sat miserably on the ground, head tilted back as he tried to stop the bleeding of his broken nose.
‘What’s all this?’ Prince Daralanteriel came striding towards them. ‘Oh by the Black Sun herself! He’s finally gone and done it, hasn’t he? Cal!’
‘My apologies,’ Calonderiel said. ‘Your highness.’
‘It’s not me you need to apologize to.’
Calonderiel crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing. Daralanteriel sighted in defeat.
‘Someone help my scribe up,’ Dar said, ‘and take him to Ranadario. I don’t think it would be wise to have Dallandra treat him.’
Calonderiel growled his agreement.
‘Cal, go inside.’ Daralanteriel pointed to the tent. ‘Men, you keep him there. Wise one, come with me, would you please?’
Daralanteriel led her a little ways off to a reasonably quiet spot on the edge of the encampment. The prince hooked his thumbs over his belt and stared off to the north, where the forest hung like dark clouds in the last of the sunlight.
‘I may be the prince,’ Dar said abruptly. ‘But Cal has as much authority as I do. More, maybe.’
‘Not more, but as much, certainly.’
‘Which means you’re the only person who can do something about his fits of jealousy,’ Dar went on, ‘and I don’t envy you the job. Meranaldar, on the other hand—I owe him my protection.’
‘That’s very true.’
‘At the last council, I realized something. If we’re going to keep from being swallowed up by the Roundears, we need more people. Oh, Prince Voran means well, and as far as I know, no one along the western border of Deverry wishes us the least bit of harm, but in the end, numbers will tell.’ Daralanteriel turned to her with a tight smile. ‘I’m sending Meranaldar back south to gather more Islanders. There’s just time this summer for a trip across, if we get back to Mandra soon, anyway.’
‘I can tell Valandario to make sure a ship waits.’
‘Good.’ Dar sighed and shook his head. ‘This is what it comes down to, isn’t it? Swelling our ranks. As many people as want to settle here with us, I’ll welcome. We’re going to have to assign them land, just like the Roundears do, and set up town councils like they do in the Rhiddaer. The swallowing’s already begun, Dalla. All we can do is slow it down.’
‘You’re right, aren’t you? Only time will tell if it’s a disaster or a triumph.’
‘Is that one of your