“Ye gods! You don't want to begin with an easy question, do you?”
“My apologies. I be grateful for any lore you do choose to tell me, so there be no need on you to start there if—”
Abruptly Niffa stopped talking. When Dallandra turned, wondering what had silenced her apprentice, she saw Verrarc, walking along the lakeshore and heading for them. He carried a candle lantern as if it were a heavy burden. Something, at least, was making him stagger like an old man.
“I think me,” Dallandra said, “that the workings of the universe will have to wait for a bit. Niffa, go back to camp.”
Niffa obeyed her without a murmur. Dallandra hurried to meet Verrarc. They stood at the edge of the lake, where the water lapped onto the sand with a noise like drops falling. The speckled light from his lantern danced around them from the shaking of his hand.
“Are you looking for Raena?” Dallandra said.
“I am,” Verrarc said. “Though I think me she did go off to the Horsekin camp.”
“I saw her run that way, truly, after her false goddess disappeared. You have heard what happened, haven't you?”
“I did.” Verrarc hesitated for a long moment. “That thing in the sky—the one she did think was her Alshandra? That were the fox-spirit, bain't?”
“It was. I take it you've seen Lord Havoc before?”
“I have.” He paused again, staring at the closed gates on the other side of the commons. “I do wonder if it behooves me to go out to the Horsekin camp.”
“To fetch Raena back?”
“She'll not come back.” Verrarc's voice suddenly thickened with tears. “That I do know deep in my heart. But to speak with her, like, for a last time.”
“I think me that it would be very unwise, Councilman, if not dangerous. What if they took you hostage?”
“I'd not thought of that. Think you they might?”
“I'd not put anything past the Horsekin. At the least, they could disrupt the Deciding that way.”
The candlelight danced so wildly that she reached out and took the lantern from him. He seemed not to notice, even when she raised it to look him in the face. Tears glistened in long trails.
“My heart aches for your grief,” Dallandra said. “But truly, her staying would only have brought you a greater one.”
“I did deem as much. Ah ye gods! I do hope only that the town may forgive me.”
“Well, come now! When you took her in, you couldn't have known the truth of all of this.”
“Oh, no doubt. But—later did I err, and grievously.”
“What? Here, what have you done?”
For a long moment he merely stood, staring down at the water's edge, then raised one arm and wiped the tears from his face. Dallandra waited, fighting the urge to probe.
“It were a thing I did for Raena's sake.” Verrarc spoke at last. “When Zatcheka came, asking for alliance, Raena did beg me to put off the Deciding. And I did what she did ask. Ah gods! Had I not, the town would have had its alliance, and I could have spurned the Horsekin at our gates.”
“I see.”
“But that be the least of it. I did take her in, I did shelter her, I did listen to her lies. This Lord Havoc—I envied her the magicks he did give her. I should have—”
“Should have what?” Dallandra made her voice gentle. “What could you have done about it?”
Startled, Verrarc looked up, blinking in the lantern light.
“Here you were, alone and unmindful,” Dallandra went on. “Did she tell you about the war on Cengarn?”
“She didn't. I heard not a word of that till Zatcheka came.”
“As for Lord Havoc, how were you to know who he might be?”
“Well, his brother did warn me once.”
“Once.”
He managed a faint shadow of a smile.
“It's not all lost yet, you know,” Dallandra said. “I think me that if your people choose the alliances Dar and Zatcheka offer them, the Horsekin will think more than twice about taking your lands. You can't blame yourself for everything.”
“But there be Rae, working more harm, for all I know, and that cursed mazrak too—she did bring him here.”
He was quite right, Dallandra realized. She had no idea of what dweomer Raena and her strange priest might be working, off among the Horsekin. Casually she turned a bit away and glanced down at the water's edge, as if she were merely thinking, but in truth she opened her dweomer sight and called up Raena's image. In the dappled light upon the water the scrying came easily, and she saw Raena quite plainly. Inside a tent dimly lit with silver dweomer light Raena lay on a pile of blankets with the mazrak on top of her, both of them naked. Her head was thrown back and her face, beaded with sweat. Even in vision Dallandra could see the streaks of dirt on his back and hairy haunches.
“Oh curse her!” Verrarc snarled. “The lying slut!”
Too late Dallandra realized that he'd been able to follow her mind's lead and see the vision. With a shake of her head she closed down the sight and turned to see Verrarc trembling, his fists clenched at his sides.
“I'll kill her,” Verrarc whispered. “May the gods of my people rise up and help me kill her!”
“Leave her to me,” Dallandra said. “Leave her to me and the laws of your town!”
“Why? How may I count myself a man if—”
“Hold your tongue!” Dallandra put a snap into her voice. “If you kill a sworn priestess of their goddess, they'll demand retribution. They'll use it to lay a claim on your town, and when the claim's not paid, they'll come back with an army, alliance or no.”
Verrarc started to speak, then merely stared at her, his mouth slack.
“Do you understand me?” She softened her voice. “Truly, my heart aches for you, but ye gods, man! Think of your fellow citizens!”
“I swear to you, Mazrak, that my fellow citizens be never far from my heart. But ye gods! You must think me no true man, that I could swallow this bitter ale she poured me and smile when I were done?”
“Naught of the sort!”
Verrarc turned, one hand on the hilt of the long knife at his belt. He was staring at the town wall, where lantern light bloomed on the catwalks as the town watch took up their posts.
“Sergeant Gart be on duty this night.” Verrarc spoke so softly that she wondered if he realized he were speaking aloud. “He'll open the gates if I command.”
“Don't! What will you do, rush into the camp and try to stab her? The Horsekin would cut you down so fast you'd never even get a strike on her.”
That gave him pause. With a long sigh that sounded near a sob he laid his hands over his face. Dallandra wondered if he wanted her to talk him out of his revenge, and if she could, but she had an ally close at hand. From the elven camp Rhodry came striding over, calling out in Elvish.
“Dalla! Are you all right? Who's this?”
“Councilman Verrarc,” she called back in the same. “Come talk with him, will you?”
When Rhodry joined them, Verrarc made some effort to pull himself together, but he could not stop shaking, nor could he bring the color back to his face.
“What's so wrong?” Rhodry snapped.
“Raena,” Dallandra said. “She's deserted to the enemy.”
“Ah horseshit!” Rhodry turned to Verrarc. “My apologies, Councilman, but your woman's a danger to you and the town both.”
“I do know that better than you.” Verrarc's voice was more a growl. “Tell me somewhat. She did charge you to me with wanting her death, all over the murder of some friend of yours.”
“She spoke true for a change, though she didn't kill him with her own hands.”
“I did wonder. She did show me a knife such as the one in your belt there and claim that it were your friend's. It did have a wyvern graved upon the blade.”
“True again.”
Verrarc considered this for a long moment while he went on shaking.
“Do you blame me for hunting her down?”
Rhodry said.
“Not anymore,” Verrarc snapped. “I think me there be more than one man's death that might be charged against her.”
“True spoken indeed. And if she escapes with the Horsekin, she'll work more harm.”
“But you can't go charging into their camp!” Dallandra put as much force as she could muster in her words. “I'll not have you start a new war over their wretched priestess.”
“Wise counsel as always, my love.” Rhodry grinned at her. “But I doubt that we can lure her out of their cursed camp. If she came back inside the walls, she'd be subject to your laws, Councilman, not theirs. And she knows that as well as I do.”
“True enough,” Verrarc said. “And she knows another thing as well, that I do command the town watch. We could arrest her easily enough.”
“We?” Rhodry said. “Are you in this hunt with me, then?”
“I am.” Verrarc took a long deep breath. “And what has she done, but betray me and my town to the Horsekin?”
When Rhodry held out his hand, Verrarc took it. Dallandra allowed herself a quick look at his aura: strong and blazing red.
“Well and good, then,” Rhodry said. “Dalla, don't you see? If we're going to bring Raena to heel, we have to do it now, and if it takes force, well, I don't see the harm of that. The Horsekin will doubtless attack anyway, sooner or later.”
“Better later,” Dallandra snapped. “Think! If they thought they could just march down and take Cerr Cawnen, why would they be bothering to ask for an alliance?”
“True spoken,” Verrarc said. “There be some sort of constraint upon them. I know not what it may be, but why would they come talking peace and not war?”
“The horses,” Rhodry put in. “We killed a fair number of their warhorses last summer.”
“That could be,” Dallandra went on. “But if you slay Kral and that filthy mazrak, and you'll doubtless have to do that if you want to seize Raena, then the affair will be a matter of honor and revenge. I don't care what's making them hold back. It won't matter anymore. We need time, Rori. Dar's made this offer of alliance on his own, and if the townspeople take it, he'll have to ride back home and find his father and Calonderiel before he can fulfil his obligations.”
Rhodry sighed in a gloomy sort of way. “You're right,” he said at last. “But ye gods, it would have gladdened my heart to turn Arzosah loose on the bitch.” He turned to Verrarc. “My apologies. I should mind my tongue about her.”
“Not for my sake.” Verrarc turned on his heel and ran, leaving her the lantern.
Dallandra took a few steps after him, but he plunged into the welter of houses and crannogs and disappeared. And what more could I say to him? she thought. Very little. Very little indeed.
“Think he'll hold true?” Rhodry spoke in Elvish. “I can't help but wonder if he's in league with her somehow, laying a trap for us.”
“I doubt it. Just now, when I scryed Raena out, I found her wallowing in the blankets with that mazrak, the dirty one. I didn't realize how much dweomer Verrarc has. He saw it, too.”
Rhodry laughed his high-pitched berserker's chortle.
“Oh, he'll hold true,” Rhodry said, grinning. “I think me we can count on our Verro, truly I do.”
“Well, I feel sorry for the poor man.”
“So do I.” Rhodry suddenly held up a hand for silence. “There she is. Hear that?”
“No. What do you mean? Wait! That drumming sound?”
“That's Arzosah flying.”
Sure enough, in but a few moments the thwack of her wings against the air sounded loud and clear over the town. Dallandra set the candle lantern down and walked a few steps away from the pool of light. When she looked to the west, she could see the dragon-shape against the stars.
“I'd best get back to Citadel,” Rhodry said. “It wouldn't be prudent, somehow, to have her land right here.”
Rhodry trotted off, heading round the lake—to find a coracle, Dallandra supposed. Now if only we could persuade Arzosah to guard the Northlands, Dalla thought. Mayhap for a tax of cows? She giggled aloud, then decided she must be going daft with the strain.
For a long while that night Dallandra sat by the fire and fed it twigs while she scried in the embers. The vision rose of the Horsekin camp and another fire, where Kral, Raena, and the mazrak sat talking quietly among themselves. It seemed that talk was all they did, but Dallandra's blood ran cold with the dweomer warning. They were planning some danger to the town, whether violence or dweomer she could not know. Finally, when they retired to their tents, she let the fire die and went to her own blankets.
“So,” Arzosah said, “the stinking bitch has fled, has she? Why don't we fly over the Horsekin camp and scatter their horses? All the men will have to chase after them, and then I can just swoop down and seize Raena.”
“Naught would please me more,” Rhodry said, “but we can't. There's the small matter of their tribes back at home to consider.”
“The only way I choose to consider them is for meals.”
“I know, but there are far too many of them in the Northlands for you to eat, not all at once at least. If we harm these Horsekin, their kin will send an army after us.”
Arzosah heaved a massive sigh. They were sitting on the roof of the ruined temple, and in the starlight Rhodry could see her examining her claws.
“That beastly stag struggled,” she remarked. “I may have chipped a claw on him. But I ate him for his pains.”
“The entire Horsekin army will struggle a fair bit harder than one stag.”
“Well, true enough. And I won't be able to panic their horses forever. Sooner or later the stupid creatures will recognize my smell and decide their masters can drive me off.” She lowered her massive paw. “Pity. It would have been grand to bring Raena back all bloody and dripping.”
“Grand till Cerr Cawnen had to pay the price,” Rhodry said. “Now look, on the morrow, I want you to fly off again. Hunt or not as you please, but don't come back to the town till well after sunset.”
“Gladly, but do we really have to let her escape?”
“Who said anything about letting her run free? I'm thinking up a plan. But if you're here, Raena will be too frightened to walk into the trap.”
“Very well then.” Arzosah yawned with a shake of her head. “You do the thinking. I'm going to get a good night's sleep.”
• • •
For most of the night Verrarc lay awake, alone in the bed he'd grown used to sharing. His mind raced this way and that like a panicked animal, first cursing him for losing Raena, next exulting that she was gone, then worrying about the Horsekin, wondering why he would trust Dallandra and this Rhodry from Aberwyn, and then once again giving in to his grief at losing the only woman he'd ever loved. Finally he did sleep, only to wake when Korla came rushing into a bedchamber bright with sun.
“The Chief Speaker be here, master. It be a good while past dawn.”
“Ye gods! Do him tell that I wake and will join him presently. Oh, and tender him my apology for being so lax.”
On every day of Deciding, the town council went up to the plaza early to set up the wood booths that would each enclose a set of colored jugs. Near the well stood the big plank table for the stone markers. For this particular election, those citizens who wanted an alliance with Prince Daralanteriel and the Gel da'Thae would put black markers into a black pot. Those who wished to ally with the Horsekin would put red in red, and those who wished no alliance at all, white in white.
Verrarc arrived just as Sergeant Gart came puffing up the path with the militia marching behind him. Ten men would stand behind the table to ensure that the voting proceeded honestly. Other squads would dispose themselves around the plaza, just in case there was trouble, as Sergeant Gart remarked.
“A good thought, Sergeant,” Verrarc said. “The whole town's on edge.”
Admi himself stood off to one side talking with Zatcheka, who had come to witness the Deciding. She was wearing her long
deerskin dress and a tall headdress made of cloth-of-gold, wrapped round itself and piled high. Jewelled stickpins flashed here and there in the folds. Two of her men, armed with solid quarterstaves, stood guard behind her. Verrarc was about to join Admi when he saw the prince of the Westfolk coming with an escort of his own. Against the folds of his grey tunic the sapphire pendant gleamed. Behind his men walked Niffa, Dallandra, and the princess, carrying her baby. Bringing up the rear as a last guard was Rhodry from Aberwyn. Verrarc hurried over and bowed to the prince.
“Good morrow,” he said. “I see Niffa told you of our custom.”
“So she did,” Daralanteriel said. “So I've come to witness, as she suggested. I hope you don't mind my wife coming along. She wanted to see the workings of your Deciding.”
“Of course, of course, you're all welcome,” Verrarc said. “No doubt Niffa did tell you, though, that you mayn't speak to the citizens as they make their choices.”
“She did, and we'll abide by that.” Dar paused, glancing around. “Carra, will you be all right? The day's turning out hot, clouds or no.”
“The Council House does stand over yonder,” Verrarc put in. “Do avail yourself of it should you wish.”
“We could take the baby inside for a bit,” Carra said to Niffa. “Not much is happening yet.”
“We've yet to send out the criers,” Verrarc said. “Here be the customs which do rule a Deciding. The Council of Five does prepare all that you see before you. Then do we send out four criers to the town below, to remind all that on a day such as this no one may lift a hand to do any other citizen harm. It be needful for a Deciding to be free of all strife, for who would choose cleanly if he did think himself in danger for it?”
“True spoken.” Dar nodded in agreement. “That strikes me as a fine custom.”
Talking together, Niffa and Carra took the baby and strolled away in the general direction of the Council House. Verrarc glanced at Rhodry, who had been listening with his thumbs hooked into his sword belt.
“Tell me, Councilman,” Rhodry said. “Does Rakzan Kral have the right to witness?”
“I fear me he does.” Verrarc felt suddenly sick. “There be a need on us to send a fifth crier to his camp, methinks.”
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