‘That’s it!’ Cadryc grinned, then let the grin fade. ‘I knew that, of course, when we swore to Dar. But somehow I hadn’t quite grasped it. I have now.’
‘I still wonder what got the gwerbret to let us go. You’d think the royal line would want as many vassals as it can hold.’
‘Ah, that’s the issue, lad! As they can hold, but they can’t hold a blasted one of us if we can’t hold our land for them. The Melyn Valley’s too far west. I’ll wager the high king knows it’d just be a wound on the kingdom, bleeding coin and men.’
‘So he’ll let Prince Dar do the bleeding instead.’
‘Just that.’ Cadryc saluted him with his tankard. ‘But with all those archers he has, the wound won’t be a big one.’
When Solla arrived at the table of honour, Cadryc broke the seals on the tube and pulled out the letter inside, then handed it to her. She sat down in the chair to his right and unrolled the parchment to look it over.
‘Just read it out,’ Cadryc snapped, then ducked his head in apology. ‘Well, if you would, my lady.’
‘Of course.’ Solla began: ‘To his grace, Tieryn Cadryc of the Westlands, and his lords of the Melyn Valley, I, Prince Voran of Dun Deverry, send greetings. I have news of some import for your overlord, Prince Daralanteriel of the Westlands. Alas, I know not where he might be or where I might meet with him. If your grace should know, would he be so kind as to send me an answer by the messengers who have brought him this letter? I am currently residing at Gwingedd in Cerrgonney, but I plan to continue on to Arcodd as the spring progresses. I will be residing there for some while, as I have every intention of demanding some legal redress against Govvin, priest of Bel, for the insults he tendered me during last summer’s campaigns. If his highness Daralanteriel could join me there, I should be most gratified.’ Solla glanced up. ‘The rest is all a formal farewell. He never says what this thing of great import is.’
‘Blast him!’ Cadryc muttered. ‘No doubt we won’t be able to pry anything out of those messengers, either.’
‘They may not know,’ Gerran said. ‘I doubt if it’s his action against Govvin. He wouldn’t need to consult Prince Dar about that.’
‘Huh!’ Cadryc said with a snort. ‘I wonder what the high priest down in Dun Deverry will think?’
‘Knowing the prince, your grace,’ Solla said, ‘I’d wager that he’s already brought the high priest round to his side.’
‘Most like. Well, I don’t know where our Prince Dar is, and I don’t know how in the hells we’re going to find him, either.’
Gerran glanced around and saw Salamander, lurking behind a nearby pillar, convenient for eavesdropping.
‘Leave it to me.’ Gerran got up from his chair. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
When Salamander saw Gerran walking his way, he headed for the back door of the great hall. He knew that Gerran would follow him down to the dun wall, where they could have a little privacy away from the clutter of the ward. It was odd, he reflected, that Gerran would have so few qualms about calling upon dweomer, when most Deverry lords refused to admit that such a thing could even exist. Odd or not, he was glad to dispense with the usual verbal fencing and insinuations.
‘I take it you want me to find out where Daralanteriel is,’ Salamander said.
‘Just that,’ Gerran said. ‘Can you?’
‘Easily.’
Salamander glanced up at the sky, where towards the west a few clouds drifted against the crystalline blue, and let his Sight shift to thoughts of Dar and the royal alar. He saw them immediately, a long line of riders followed by herds of horses, flocks of sheep, horses laden with packs and more dragging travois, dogs, children on ponies – all the usual straggling untidiness of Westfolk on the move. All around them stretched grassland.
‘Somewhere west of Eldidd,’ Salamander said. ‘I can’t tell exactly where, I’m afraid, because they’re out in open country.’
‘Is there anything but open country west of Eldidd?’ Gerran said.
‘There’s not, and that, indeed, is the problem. Here, give me a while, and I may be able to tell you more.’
‘Well and good, then, and my thanks.’
They walked back inside together, but Salamander left the lord at the table of honour and hurried upstairs to his wedge-shaped chamber high up in the broch. He barred the door, then sat down on the wide stone sill of the window. The sharp west wind drifted in, bringing with it the stink of the stables below. Salamander rummaged under his shirt, brought out a pomander, made of an apple dried with Bardek spices, and inhaled the scent.
From his perch he could see over the stables and the dun wall both to the meadows beyond, pale green with the first grass. The clouds had drifted a little further towards zenith and grown larger as well. He focused on the white billows and thought of Dallandra. He saw the royal alar again, stopped in a swirl of riders and animals. Some of the men had dismounted and were strolling towards the various travois. Apparently they were going to set up the tents. In the vision Salamander realized that the western sky had already clouded over. Some distance from the alar ran a river. It looked to him like the Cantariel, but since it wound through flat meadowland like so many rivers did out in the grasslands, he couldn’t be sure. Dallandra was standing at the riverbank and watching muddy water flow. He sent his mind out toward hers.
It took her some moments to respond. He could pick up her emotional state, a blend of annoyance and physical discomfort. Finally she acknowledged him with a wordless sense of welcome and a wave of one hand.
‘Are you ill?’ Salamander thought to her. ‘Have you been hurt?’
He focused in on the image of her face. She looked pale, and dark smudges marred the skin under her eyes. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’m merely pregnant, and I spent the day on horseback. It’s not a happy combination.’
‘I can easily contact you later –’
‘No, no, I’ve been meaning to speak with you. I need to ask you something. It’s about Nevyn. You knew him well, didn’t you?’
‘I certainly did, oft times to my severe distress and humiliation. The old man had the horrid habit of always being right, especially when it came to my faults, flaws, mistakes, and general ill-doings.’
He could feel Dallandra’s amusement as clearly as he would have heard her laughter had they been together. ‘Was he stubborn?’ she said.
‘Very. Like the proverbial bull in a warm stable. Getting him outside on a winter’s day was a most formidable task. Is Neb giving you trouble?’
‘Aha, you guessed! I’m worried, really. He seems to want to shed his current personality and just turn back into Nevyn. Yet when I try to speak with him about it, I can feel his mind close up.’
‘This sounds dangerous.’
‘It is. Once the child’s born, my attention’s bound to be divided. I should have apprenticed him to Grallezar, I suppose, and taken Branna on myself, but at the time it seemed a better
