Kerr, Katherine - Deverry 08 by Kerr Katherine

Author:Kerr, Katherine
Language: eng
Format: epub

'He spoke against Her holy war,' Tren snapped. 'Do you deny that he got what he deserved? Would you say such a thing aloud?'

Ddary might have been slow but he wasn't stupid.

'Never, my lord. The Keepers did what they had to do, sure enough. Blessed be She, who watches over us all.'

When Tren glanced his way their eyes met in something much like agony. Tren looked up at the sky, darkening to a velvet grey. Off to the east a few stars were coming out.

‘I’d best get back to the other captains. They're waiting for the high priestess to return.'

Ddary's hands twitched, as if he were forcibly keeping himself from making the warding signs against witchcraft.

'I see, my lord. Where is she, if I may be so bold as to ask?'

'I've no idea. She keeps her own counsel.'

But there's not a man of us who wouldn't like to know where she's got to, Tren thought. We could have used the bitch's help this afternoon. Sorcery! It makes a man's blood run cold. He spat on the ground, whether the goddess was watching or not.

Up at Lin Serr Rhodry was coming to much the same conclusion. That night, he stood at the window of his tower room and watched the stars while he thought of Angmar, remembering the brief months they'd shared, praying to every god that she was well, wherever the island's mysterious dweomer had taken her.

He wondered about Enj, too, keeping his watch up in the mountains. At that moment, with his hiraedd lying upon him, he doubted if either of them would ever see Haen Marn again. At length he lay down and slept, but he dreamt of Angmar and the view from their bedroom window of the lake, so vividly that when he woke, he nearly wept to find himself not there.

That morning, since he was shut out of the main city and thus any councils of war that might have been taking place, there was nothing for him to do but fume, pacing back and forth in his quarters up in the gatehouse or wandering through the old watchtower. He found himself wishing that Alshandra's peculiar creatures would come back and give him a fight, but apparently their experience with the iron-filled gatehouse had scared them off. Finally he went down to the riverbank and the dragon's company. In the hot morning sun Arzosah stretched out and lazed, turning from one side to the other as if she were meat on a spit, browning by a fire. To give himself something to do, Rhodry groomed her as he would have done a horse. With handfuls of oiled rags from the gatehouse storeroom, he rubbed her down till every scale gleamed, while she stretched and rumbled in the sun.

'Revenge will come when it comes,’ she remarked. 'A dragon lives many a long year, while the Horsekin live but few.’

'My heart longs to make them live even fewer,’ Rhodry snapped. Trn sick as I can be of all this delay.

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