Song of unmaking by Caitlin Brennan

Author:Caitlin Brennan
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780373802326
Publisher: New York : Luna, 2005.
Published: 2005-10-01T05:00:00+00:00

"You'll make sure of it if I won't," Kerrec said.

"And if that fails? Even if the tribes don't find us, your brother certainly will."

He tossed his head like an impatient stallion--so rare a gesture it made her stare. "My brother thinks I'm still on the Mountain. I've done everything I can to foster that impression. If he's looking for anyone, he'll be looking for my father's mages. We're as safe as we can be--but we don't know the country we're going into, and we don't have time to learn. Wouldn't you rather have a guide we can trust?"

"Yes, but--"

"The gods sent him," said Kerrec. "You'd see that if you would look."

"I see it," she said. "I wish I didn't."

That night it was she who went to sleep in a cold fury and Kerrec who seemed determined to suffer whatever mood she happened to inflict on him. No doubt he thought it was fair. Blasted man.

Whatever dreams came to her in the night, they left her before morning. Kerrec was up when she woke, perched cross-legged on the narrow bed, with a bowl of gently steaming water and his razor and his silver mirror.

She washed sketchily in the second bowl that he had all too thoughtfully ordered for her, then pulled on her clothes and left him to be as fastidious as he liked.

Rodry waited in the room below. He was maddeningly bright-eyed and eager. "Good morning! I've ordered breakfast. I hope he likes barley porridge and cream. They have berries, too. I wheedled the girl into letting us have a bowlful."

"You sound as if you're in love," Valeria said. She sat down gingerly. Why her head should ache when she had barely drunk a cup of wine, she could not imagine.

Rodry filled a mug from the pot on the table. The scent of herb tea tickled her nostrils. It was sharp with alien spices, and it cleared her head wonderfully.

"It really is real, isn't it?" Rodry said. "You and the Mountain. The riders."

"You didn't believe it before?"

"It's not very believable," he said.

The girl brought breakfast. There were three bowls of porridge and a pitcher of cream still fresh from the cow, and a bowl of bright red berries and a warm loaf of bread and sweet butter, and links of sausages, and eggs cooked hard in the shell.

It was a feast. It arrived just as Kerrec came down, freshly shaved and meticulously clean as always. He barely acknowledged the bounty, but sat between Valeria and Rodry and reached for porridge and cream.

Rodry's expression was pure bliss. Oh yes, thought Valeria. He was in love--with a myth and a dream. He would wake to the snarling reality soon enough.

When they had eaten all they could hold and gone to claim the stallions, Rodry stopped in the stable door. His expression was rapt. His hand crept out.

Petra was nearer and by nature more gracious than Sabata. He allowed the stranger to stroke his neck and whisper in his ear.

Petra's eye rolled toward Valeria.

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