The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [67]
‘I see.’ Nevyn considered for a long moment. ‘Another problem—Tirro. It’s going to take Wffyn a good long time to barter all his trade goods away. Keep an eye on that miserable creature, will you?’
‘Have no fear of that! There’ll be temptation all around him out here.’
Gwairyc had noticed the Westfolk children, who were all as beautiful and graceful as their parents, especially the little lasses. They ran wild through the camp, either in groups or pairs, playing games with various leather balls or running here and there with their packs of mongrel dogs. They seemed to lie down to sleep wherever they felt tired, and he noticed them begging for food from one adult or another whenever they felt hungry. Standing guard over all of them would be impossible, leaving him no choice but to keep his watch over Tirro instead. Sure enough, on their second morning at the trading grounds, a pair of silver-haired little girls with violet eyes came with their mother to look over the iron goods. Gwairyc saw them leaving the Westfolk camp and followed, an impromptu guard. While the mother asked Wffyn questions about some bone-handled knives, Tirro began joking and talking with the lasses, who knew some Deverrian. Eventually he got them to come for a little walk with him. When they were about twenty yards from their mother, Gwairyc strode over and intervened.
‘You!’ Gwairyc pointed at the girls. ‘Go to your mother.’
Their laughter stopped. They stared wide-eyed at Gwairyc for a moment, then glanced at each other.
‘Now!’ Gwairyc pointed at the mother. ‘Go!’
At that they took off running. Gwairyc turned his attention to Tirro. ‘Listen, you! While we’re here, you’d best behave yourself around these little ones.’
‘And what do you mean by that?’ Tirro drew his scrawny self up to his full height. Gwairyc was tempted to grab him by the throat, but fear of ringworm stopped him.
‘As if you didn’t know, you slimy little loricart,’ Gwairyc said. ‘If I see you make one wrong move towards any little lass, I’ll kill you. I can’t put it any more plainly than that. Do you understand?’
Tirro went dead pale and raised a shaking hand to his throat. He gulped several times, then nodded his agreement, staring all the while at Gwairyc’s face.
‘Good.’ Gwairyc smiled, but grimly. ‘You Da’s not here to buy me off, and I wouldn’t take one cursed copper from him even if he was.’
Tirro nodded again. He reminded Gwairyc so strongly of a rat paralysed by a ferret’s gaze that Gwairyc was tempted to slit his throat and be done with him there and then. As if he read the thought Tirro yelped and broke, racing off towards the caravan’s tents. Good, Gwairyc thought. If he doesn’t fear the wrath of the gods, at least I’ve got him to fear mine.
‘What’s all this about the merchant’s apprentice?’ Aderyn said. ‘One of the women was down at the trading grounds this morning, and she told me that your Gwairyc seems to hate the lad.’
‘There’s good reason for it,’ Nevyn said, ‘but I gather that Gwarro has the situation well in hand. Little Tirro is entirely too fond of very young lasses.’
Aderyn stared, speechless for a long moment.
‘I doubt if anyone among the Westfolk shares that vice,’ Nevyn went on.
‘Not that I’ve heard of.’ Aderyn paused to make a sour face. ‘We value our offspring far too highly.’
‘As well you should. It does happen now and again in Deverry, especially down in Cerrmor. It’s a poisoned legacy from the Dawntime. The ancient Rhwmanes and Greggyns saw naught wrong with such nasty practices. It’s no wonder that our ancestors rebelled against their swinish ways.’
‘Just so.’ Aderyn shook his head sadly. ‘It’s a terrible thing for someone to force himself upon a child. They can’t defend themselves against someone twice their size.’
‘True spoken, but that’s not the worst of it, of course.’
‘Indeed? Um, I don’t recall the subject ever coming up during my apprenticeship.’ Aderyn smiled with a wry twist of his mouth. ‘And it gladdens my heart, too, that we never saw any such