gave her an encouraging smile.
‘Well, I used to pretend that I was a mighty sorcerer. I travelled all over the kingdom, and to Bardek, and to marvellous islands far far away. I could call down a strange blue fire to light my way, and once, when I was trapped in a burning building, I commanded the wind to save me.’
‘Sounds splendid, indeed.’
‘In one tale, I could even turn myself into a bird and fly.’
‘And this bird, it was a falcon, was it?’
Branna slewed around on the bench and stared at him while the colour drained from her face. ‘How do you know that?’ she was whispering. ‘Or are sorcerous powers a common delusion among lonely females?’
‘Not at all. Most lonely lasses dream about meeting a prince who loves them madly.’
She laughed with a toss of her head, and in that gesture he could see the hard common sense that once had been hers, in that other when, that other where. ‘True enough,’ she said. ‘But how did you know about my falcon?’
‘My mysterious bardic powers, of course. Ah, I see you don’t believe me.’
‘You’re not a bard. If you were, maybe I’d believe you, but you’re a gerthddyn. How did you know?’
‘Ah, therein lies an enigma, most recondite, obscure, and elusive.’ Salamander paused. He could hear voices coming towards them. ‘And it’s one you absolutely must solve for yourself.’ He stood up with a wave in the direction of the voices. ‘Here comes our good tieryn and his son, so alas, I must leave you.’
Branna jumped up and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands. ‘Tell me, you chattering elf!’ She let him go and stepped back, blushing furiously. ‘A thousand apologies! I don’t know what made me do that. I mean, you’re not even an elf. It was wretchedly rude of me. Please forgive me!’
‘You’re forgiven, and here’s one last bit of advice. Be careful around Gerran. He might carry the falcon mark, but I doubt me if he’ll ever turn into a bird and fly.’
‘I figured that out on my own, good sir.’
‘Good sir, is it?’ Salamander grinned at her, and in a moment she smiled in return.
Arguing in quiet voices, Cadryc and Mirryn rounded the corner and bore down upon them. When Salamander jumped back out of the way, the two lords finally realized that they had an audience.
‘Apologies,’ Cadryc snapped. ‘Branna my dear, I didn’t see you.’
‘No harm done, Uncle.’ Branna rose and curtsied. ‘I’ll just be going inside.’
The three men paused and watched her trot off, holding her skirts up to keep them free of the dirty ground.
‘I’d best be going, too,’ Salamander said. ‘My lords?’
They nodded their permission. Salamander hurried away, but he ducked behind the cook’s little gardening shed to eavesdrop.
‘I’ll not argue one word more,’ Cadryc was saying. ‘We’re leaving on the morrow, and you’re not, and that’s that.’
‘But –’
‘I said not one word more!’
In a few moments Mirryn stormed past Salamander without seeing him. Cadryc followed more slowly, shaking his head. Salamander stepped out and bowed to him.
‘Your grace?’ Salamander said. ‘Forgive me if I presume, but one day your son is going to have to try his wings.’
Cadryc tossed his head like a startled horse and glowered at him. Salamander bowed again, then smiled in what he hoped was an ingratiating manner.
‘Ah well,’ Cadryc said at last. ‘You’re right enough, gerthddyn. It’s just –’ He paused, chewing on the corners of his moustache. ‘It’s just – well, you’re a gerthddyn. You must hear plenty of strange tales, eh?’
‘More than a few, truly, my lord.’
‘Imph.’ Cadryc hesitated for a few moments more, then shrugged. ‘Well, there was a prophecy, you see. I’ve never told Mirryn or my wife about it, because to tell you the honest truth, I’m cursed ashamed of believing it.’
‘A prophecy? From a priest?’
‘A priest of a sort, I suppose you’d call him. It was what? about ten summers ago now. The Horsekin were raiding up north, and the old gwerbret summoned his allies. This was the raid where he was killed, come to think of it. Anyway. We managed to find their stinking ugly camp, and we fell on them by surprise and slaughtered the guards and their reserves. We freed the human captives, some of the gwerbret’s farm folk, and then some others who’d been Horsekin slaves.’ Cadryc paused, looking away as if getting his memories in order. ‘Now, among the human men was this one scabby fellow, dressed all in rags, and his feet were all swollen and crusted with calluses, just like he’d never worn shoes in his life. Turned out he hadn’t, actually. But all the folk who’d been born slaves treated him like he was a king. The gwerbret’s farm folk told us that he was a priest of their cursed foreign goddess.’
‘Alshandra again?’ Salamander said. ‘Huntress of Souls?’
‘The same one, truly. Like that gold arrow we found in the burned village.’
‘Indeed. Do go on. This is most fascinating, engrossing, mesmerizing, and the like.’
‘All of that, eh? Well, now, this priest fellow refused to eat. Said he’d starve himself to death rather than put up with being our prisoner. A lot of gall, if you ask me, since his cursed Horsekin had been taking our folk prisoner! We thought about killing him, of course, but it’s risky, killing priests. What if their god decides to take a little vengeance, eh?’
‘Quite right. You can’t be too careful.’
‘So anyway, we lords got together and talked about forcing him to eat. But I spoke up and said let him do what he wanted, if he was so blasted keen on dying. I could see the indignity of it, being tied up and having gruel poured down your throat or suchlike, and so the other lords agreed. And the scabby fellow thanked me, if you can imagine it! Thanked me for letting him starve to death! In return, says he, I’ll give you a prophecy. Keep your son safe till his nineteenth summer begins. Do that and he’ll live a fair long time. Let him fight before that, and he’ll die young.’ Cadryc looked down at the ground and shrugged again. ‘No doubt you think me a fool for believing the filthy bastard.’
‘I don’t,’ Salamander said. ‘I can see where a prophecy like that would chill a father’s heart. What happened to the priest?’
‘He starved, just like he wanted. Took him a long time, but he went happily enough at the end.’
‘Do you remember his name, by any chance?’
‘I don’t, though I can still see his face, clear as clear in my mind.’
‘And how old is Mirryn?’
‘Eighteen summers now.’ Cadryc
