to the other members of the alar, but in the eyes of the refugees who’d settled Mandra, they’d be Meradan, demons, and little else. Swearing under his breath, Calonderiel turned his horse out of line and galloped back. As he passed the squads of swordsmen, he called to them to follow.
Dallandra’s dappled grey mare danced nervously in the road and pulled at the reins. Pir laid a hand on the horse’s neck, up under her mane, and she quieted.
‘My thanks,’ Dallandra said. ‘Can you see what’s happening back there?’
‘I can’t,’ Pir said. ‘But the shouting’s died down.’
Calonderiel returned shortly after with Grallezar riding beside him. Grallezar guided her stolid chestnut gelding up to Dallandra and leaned over to speak to her while Calonderiel went on to confer with Dar.
‘We Gel da’Thae,’ Grallezar said, ‘had best avoid strife. I did tell the banadar that we be willing to camp elsewhere, up the north-running road a fair piece, say. Then when you all leave Mandra, we shall rejoin you as you pass by.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Dallandra said, ‘I should have thought –’
‘Nah, nah, nah, we all should have thought! Be not so apologetic, my friend.’ Grallezar smiled, revealing her pointed teeth. ‘It be no great difficulty for us to all turn out of line. Sidro, though, I would leave with you. She does look much like a Deverry woman, and she does take good care of you.’
‘True, and Vek had best stay with her in case he has another seizure.’
‘Just so.’ Grallezar turned to Pir. ‘The mare that the Wise One rides, will she be calm enough now?’
‘I’d best walk beside her into town,’ Pir said. ‘When she dismounts, then will I head north to join you. None will notice a mere one of us.’
‘True enough,’ Grallezar said. ‘What is that they say in Deverry? Done, then!’
Daralanteriel rode back along the line of march to reassure the townsfolk while Calonderiel restored order to the alar itself. The Gel da’Thae contingent sorted out their pack horses and tents, then headed north under the grim eyes of the local herdsmen.
When Daralanteriel rode back to his place at the head of the line, his face showed no trace of emotion, a sure sign that he was hiding some strong feeling – worry, Dalla assumed. No one had ever taught him how to rule even a small territory, since no one had ever guessed that some day he would have actual subjects in an actual town. As the procession moved forward again, Carra, his wife, urged her horse up next to his and took over the job of acknowledging his admirers. His children followed, aping their mother’s smiles and waves. Judging from the cheers, the townspeople and farmfolk lining the road were well pleased.
At the edge of town Valandario waited. Beside her stood a tall pale-haired man, dressed in a long tunic clasped with a distinctive broad belt, beaded in a pattern of blue circles and triangles. Valandario introduced him to the prince as the town mayor. When Daralanteriel dismounted, the mayor knelt to him.
‘Please get up,’ Dar said. ‘There’s no use in you kneeling in cold mud.’
The mayor laughed, then rose and launched into a speech of welcome. Other townsfolk came running to usher the prince’s retinue inside with speeches of their own. In the resulting confusion, Dallandra managed to slip away and join Valandario.
‘Let’s go to my chamber,’ Val said. ‘It’ll be quiet there.’
As they walked through the muddy streets, Dallandra marvelled at the town around them. Out in the grass few trees grew. Traders had hauled in some timber in return for the salt that the townsfolk harvested from the sea. The farmers had dug stones from their new fields and collected driftwood from the beaches to build a strange collection of squat, thatch-roofed cottages. Most of the walls stood at odd angles; some bristled with assemblages of random driftwood. Smoke from the hearths and lime from the sea birds stained roofs and walls. Behind most houses cows and chickens lived in shelters built of blocks of cut sod. A whiff of sewage hung in the air. Still, the men and women who lived in those houses weren’t Roundears, a marvel in itself. They’re my people, Dallandra thought, but they know things we’ve forgotten for a thousand years.
‘It’s still small,’ Valandario said, ‘but we’re expecting several boatloads of new settlers by the autumn.’
‘We?’ Dallandra said, smiling.
‘I’ve become part of the town, yes, at least for the winters.’
‘I’m going to need you to come with us when we leave.’
‘And I’m ready to ride, or at least, I will be once I finish packing up my things. Don’t worry about that.’ Val paused for a glance around. ‘But I’m hoping to come back in the autumn.’
The house in which Valandario was staying was a grander affair than most, two storeys high, the lower of stone, the upper of timber planks, with proper wooden shutters at every window and a slate roof. Inside the fenced yard chickens pecked and squawked in the spring greenery. Although she couldn’t see it, Dallandra could smell a cow as well.
‘Your hosts must be prosperous people,’ Dallandra said.
‘Yes, they’re the town potters,’ Valandario said. ‘The kiln’s round back, and their shop’s on the ground floor. And Jin’s teaching some apprentices how to make pabrus, too, as well as how to throw pots.’ She pointed to the side of the house. ‘We’ll go up the side stairs here.’
The creaky wooden stairs led to an off-kilter door of planks laced together with rope. Val opened it and ushered Dallandra inside to the kitchen, a big room with a brick hearth at one end, a long table in the middle, and crates and barrels along a side wall. Doorways led to various rooms, including the Wise One’s. Just like her old tent, Valandario’s chamber gleamed with bright colours on the walls and on the floor. Blankets and a pile of cushions lay on the narrow bed jammed against one wall.
‘Do sit down.’ Valandario waved at the bed. ‘You look like you could use a rest. Is the baby due soon?’
‘A pair of months.’ Dallandra sat down with a sigh of gratitude. ‘About. I’m not sure when exactly. Probably she’ll come at the most inconvenient moment.’
‘Babies seem to, yes. I know this is practically treason to our kind, but I’m glad I never had one.’
‘Well, I’m hoping that things work out better for this soul that they did the last time he was born. I won’t abandon him this time, for one thing.’
Valandario stared at her with abruptly cold eyes. ‘Are you saying that it’s Loddlaen?’ Her voice dwindled to a whisper on the name.
Too late Dallandra remembered who had murdered Valandario’s only lover. Val stood so still that it seemed she’d stopped breathing, waiting for the answer. From outside came the noise of the inhabitants returning to their town after greeting the prince – laughter, chatter, snatches of song, the barking of dogs and the high-pitched shrieks of children.
‘I won’t lie to you,’ Dallandra said at last. ‘Yes, it is, but she – and notice that I said she – she’ll wear a different personality this time around.’
‘Of course.’ Val turned
