Ranadar of the High Mountain,’ Halaberiel said to Aderyn. ‘For all the good it ever did him.’
As a last touch, Aderyn took the warband aside and instructed them in the courtesies that a Round-ear warband would show a man of royal blood. Finally they chose some packhorses – duns and roans, these –and a couple of young men to come along and pretend to be servants. Since Aderyn himself would be the prince’s counsellor, he too got fancy clothes but a silvery-grey horse to ride.
On his last night in camp, Aderyn and Dallandra wrapped themselves in heavy cloaks and walked a little way away through the silent grasslands. The night was clear, streaked with moonlight, and so cold that their breath puffed as they walked.
‘Be careful, won’t you, Aderyn?’ Dallandra said abruptly. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this.’
‘A dweomer warning?’
‘I don’t know if I’d call it that. Just a bad feeling. I’m sorry, but I just don’t trust your people.’
‘I can’t say I blame you. Ye gods, it makes me sick, thinking about how much you’ve all lost already, and now my folk come riding in, trying to take away what little you’ve got left.’
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