LITMIR.BIZ

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      ‘No. I mean, by the Dark Sun herself! How could he look well in that body? He’s a dragon, all scaly.’

      ‘Calmly now! Your thoughts are beginning to dance around.’

      ‘Sorry.’ Salamander took a deep breath. ‘But he seems to have hurt himself somehow. There’s something that looks like a dagger’s cut over one rib.’

      ‘How very odd! It couldn’t still be the old wound, the one I couldn’t get to staunch. On a creature the size of a dragon, it should have healed right up.’

      ‘Why would it? If it was a magical curse or suchlike –’

      ‘But it wasn’t any such thing. When it happened, I wasn’t thinking clearly, so I didn’t see the obvious. About a month later, when I was watching the men in my alar butcher a sheep, I realized the dagger had punctured a lung. There’s a tremendous lot of blood vessels there, and most of the blood was draining into his chest cavity. He was drowning, actually, in his own blood.’

      For a moment Salamander nearly lost the vision in a wave of compassionate disgust. He steadied his mind and went on. ‘Then if it wasn’t a dweomer wound, what I saw must be a fresh injury. Perhaps something he was trying to eat fought back.’

      ‘Very likely, yes. Well, there’s naught I can do about it, unfortunately, unless he seeks me out, and so far, he hasn’t. Do you have any other news?’

      ‘Oh, a few small titbits.’ Salamander paused for drama’s sake. ‘I also ran across Nevyn, Jill, and Cullyn as well – or at least, I think it’s Cullyn. I only saw him once or twice, and that was years ago.’

      ‘You what? Ye gods! They’ve all been reborn?’

      ‘Yes, all reborn and here together, and Neb’s growling like a dog with a stolen joint of mutton at anyone who casts an unseemly glance at little Branna. I wonder if Gerran’s noticed the lass yet? Things could turn most unpleasant, you know, should he take a fancy to her. They’re all still quite young. I’d say that Gerran’s the oldest of the lot, and he seems to be about twenty. I really wish that Deverry men kept better track of things like someone’s age.’

      ‘They don’t have much reason to, I suppose. So Gerran is the man you think is Cullyn reborn?’

      ‘Yes. Sorry, I wasn’t being clear. The other names –’

      ‘I could guess them, yes. Tell me about them. How did you find them?’

      ‘It was more like they found me.’

      Dallandra listened intently to his tale, breaking her concentration only to feed a few sticks of wood into her little fire.

      ‘Do Neb and Branna remember who they are?’ Dalla said when he’d finished. ‘Or were, I should say.’

      ‘No. They do both see the Wildfolk.’

      ‘Odd. I would have thought that Neb at least would have memories of working dweomer.’

      ‘So would I. Of course, he may have them but be keeping them to himself.’

      ‘That’s quite true.’ Dallandra paused briefly. ‘What about Neb’s little brother?’

      ‘I don’t recognize him at all.’

      ‘That’s interesting in itself. If you need me, I can gather an escort and ride your way.’

      ‘My thanks. I just might take you up on that. There’s another thing, oh mighty mistress of magicks. The Horsekin. They’ve been raiding in the Melyn river valley.’

      ‘Again?’

      ‘Again. It’s most peculiar, too. They sent a sizeable warband of heavy cavalry to burn two villages. For their trouble they got maybe thirty slave women and girls and two small boys. They didn’t even bother harvesting the wheat in the fields. Does that make sense to you?’

      ‘No, it certainly doesn’t.’

      ‘I’ve been talking with the tieryn and his captain – Gerran, that is – about the raids. Their history is peculiar as well. Imagine in your mind the western flank of Deverry. Now imagine a line running from Cengarn down straight south to the sea. The Horsekin only attack settlements to the west of that line.’

      ‘I suppose the settlements farther east are too well guarded.’

      ‘Not on your life, oh princess of powers perilous. I suspect – and as of now it’s a mere suspicion only – that the Horsekin are trying to stop human settlement from spreading.’

      ‘To protect their borders?’

      ‘Their borders are too far north for that. No, I wonder if there’s something they want to hide out to the west of here.’

      ‘Hide? Such as what?’

      ‘Such as a permanent camp set up to outflank the men of the Rhiddaer. It’s the only thing I can think of, anyway.’

      Salamander could feel her shock as if it rode on a wave of mist, breaking over him. When her thoughts reached him, he could feel their venom as well.

      ‘That would be just like them, wouldn’t it?’ Dallandra thought-spoke. ‘They’ve had forty years to lick their wounds from the last war, and now they’re ready for more trouble.’ She paused, and her image flickered and grew thin as she withdrew her attention from scrying. In a few moments it clarified and grew bright again. ‘They can’t attack the Rhiddaer directly – yet. I’d guess they’re trying to cut it off from any possible help from Deverry.’

      ‘Perhaps that. Perhaps to cut it off from our folk, as well, or to cut us off from Deverry, or Deverry off from us. I know not, but I surmise much, none of it pleasant. I was wondering if any of our people have stumbled across this whatever it is, if indeed it exists, or if they’ve heard rumours, hints, clues, or even suspicions.’

      ‘I’ll find out. We’re on our way to the alardan for the summer festival. I’m riding with the prince’s alar, and of course Calonderiel and his archers are, too.’

      ‘Excellent! Cal’s just the man we need. I’d hoped to come west for the festival, but I think I’d better keep an eye on things here.’

      ‘Yes, do. How have you been faring? Your mind feels steady to me, but after what you’ve been through –’

      ‘No sign of a recurrence, I assure you, oh princess of powers perilous.’

      ‘Good. Let me know at the first sign of any trouble.’ With a smile for a farewell, Dallandra broke the link between them.

      Salamander stayed in the window and considered the view without truly registering it. I used to call Jill the princess of powers perilous, he thought. Back before I went mad, back before I lost everything I loved, there in Bardek.

      No matter how carefully he thought about his return to Deverry from the southern islands, some forty years ago, he could never remember it. There had been a ship, of course – how else could he have crossed the ocean between Bardek and Deverry? How he had boarded that ship, and why he’d left his wife and children behind, had fallen out of his memory like apples falling through a rotted sack. The madness, he thought. With my mind all to pieces like that, it’s a wonder I can remember anything. He could bring up a few memory-images of landing in Eldidd, where Dallandra had been waiting to take him into her care.

      Curing his madness had given Dallandra a hard ten years’ work. Once his mind began healing, Salamander had devoted several years to his youngest son, who suffered from mysterious troubles, before he’d returned to Bardek. Once there, he had searched all over the islands for a good long while before he finally found the troupe of travelling acrobats led by his eldest son, a grown man by then with children of his own. Kwinto had given his truant father a cold enough welcome, too.

      ‘Too late,’ Salamander said aloud. ‘Too late to see Marka again, too late to prove to her that I kept

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