The Shadow Isle

‘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 match this way.’

‘I thought you made the right decision then, and I still do.’

‘Thank you. At times I have trouble remembering why I made it.’ She paused, and he received the general impression of a jumble of thoughts. ‘It was because of the healing lore, I think. He seemed to want to learn that as well, and Grallezar has none.’

‘Is there anything I can do to help? I can easily take him through some of the work.’

‘If he’ll listen to you, and he’d blasted well better!’ Her image smiled in relief. ‘If nothing else, you can keep an eye on him for me.’

‘Gladly, and if he won’t listen to me, I’ll smack him a good one.’ He flexed one arm. ‘We mountebanks and jugglers have strong muscles, you know.’

Dallandra laughed, and the sense of relief strengthened.

‘I may hold you to that,’ she said. ‘But how are you? You sound well.’

‘I am indeed, having survived another miserable winter. I was wondering, oh princess of powers perilous, where you and the royal alar might be.’

‘Still in the Westlands, but ultimately we’re heading for the Red Wolf dun.’

‘Splendid! I’ve got news for our prince. There’s a message waiting for him here from Prince Voran. His royal self sounded more than a little put out that he didn’t know where to send the message, too. He wants Dar to meet him in Cengarn to discuss some mysterious matter.’

‘How odd! I’ll tell Dar, certainly, but we’re going to stop along the way. He wants to visit Lord Samyc, since he’s Samyc’s overlord now.’

‘Ah, I see. However, if he could send Cadryc a letter, announcing his most regal plans, it would set at rest both Cadryc’s mind and that of Prince Voran.’

‘I’ll have him do that. Neb can write it, and it’ll do him good to earn his keep.’

Salamander laughed under his breath. ‘How far away are you?’

‘A good long way. We’re travelling up the Cantariel.’ Dalla paused briefly, calculating. ‘We’re maybe a couple of hundred miles from the coast. Well, maybe a little more, closer to two hundred and a half, say. I can’t be any more sure than that.’

‘Of course. In vision it looks like you’re west of Eldidd.’

‘We are. The travelling seems to drag on and on, somehow, but perhaps I’m just tired. It’s a good thing we started as early in the year as we did, or we wouldn’t reach you till high summer. As it is, we should get there some while before. Curse it all, at moments I wish Meranaldar were still riding with us! He could be a bore, but he knew how to mark out time.’

‘Eventually we all will, oh mistress of mighty magicks, whether we want to or not. Such things always seem to matter in towns, and towns, alas, lie in our destiny. If naught else, having a royal dun would let his peers know where to send Dar letters.’

While the absent Meranaldar might have known how to mark out time, someone arrived at the Westfolk camp not long after who understood space and distances. Just as the alar was pitching the tents for a night’s rest, the silver wyrm flew in, circling high over the camp, then landing a good half a mile off to avoid panicking the horses. Dalla took her sack of medicinals and hurried out to meet him.