The Starfollowers of Coramonde
Page 39
Van Duyn made a sour face. “The whole Crescent Lands are upside down; don’t plan a vacation yet.” He took the Snow Leopardess’ hand.
“But much of our plight came of Salamá,” Andre reminded, “and will lack a driving force now, though there remains the demon Amon.”
“And the Southwastelanders?” Springbuck prodded.
“Their center is failed. They are a factional people; our strong armies, going north without doing harm, might go unmolested.”
Gil seated himself on a rock, where Swan had set herself with a waterskin. He took a pull on it, the brackish water tasting sweet to him.
“There is work for you too, brother,” Gabrielle was telling Andre, “in Veganá. They need all help rebuilding there. What better place to go awhile, until the Reconciliation, when Glyffa’s call is upon you once more?”
“I’d hoped for Andre’s assistance myself,” Springbuck interjected. “There are the Druids.” The wizard looked torn.
Van Duyn sat down next to Gil. The younger man passed him the waterskin. “What are you going to do, Ed?”
“Finish what I started in the Highlands Province; I hate to quit anything like that. But there’s this business of Katya taking the throne. If you want to go home, you’ll probably have to come looking for me in Freegate.”
Swan stared at Gil as Van Duyn wandered off. Her face was soft and warm. To one side, Springbuck was gesticulating with Gabrielle, Andre and Katya, saying, “We are the most coherent force in the Crescent Lands. Disorders, rebellion, lawlessness there may be, but these we can overcome. In time, we might forge another Unity. What worthier labor is there?”
Swan asked Gil, “You have a plan too, Seeker?”
He rubbed the dark powderburn tattoo on his stubbled cheek. “Yeah; I’m gonna grow a beard.” She didn’t even smile. “All right, no, I have none, Swan.” He hung his head for a moment, then looked up. “But we have a long ride back, to talk about it.”
She flashed her grin. “A sensible beginning.”
Down where the war-drays of Matloo were laagered, the Yalloroon had gathered, joining hands, to dance and sing in jubilation. They’d seen Salamá burn, and were free. Gil was watching them when Springbuck came over. The Ku-Mor-Mai, too, inquired, “What will you do now?”
He shrugged. He hadn’t forgotten that the Berserkergang hadn’t come to him when he’d fought Bey. Had the Lifetree’s waters healed that too, the arsenal of the Rage?
Andre deCourteney had run down to take part in the Yalloroon’s dance, dragging with him Gabrielle, who protested only halfheartedly. The little Yalloroon giggled at them with delight; the wizard played the buffon, flapping his arms, twirling on his toes. The sorceress curtseyed, and moved light-footedly.
Ferrian joined their circle, moving slowly with a modest skip, and Dunstan, who was roaring his amusement. Gil glanced to where the Lifetree climbed, almost visibly, in the sun. He stood, took Swan’s hand, led the High Constable to her feet. “I’m going dancing. You?”