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Authors: Jennifer Roberson
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than I—and more children!—for they are truly the worthiest among us.”
Then she saw Davyn’s eyes, even as he smiled and pulled his two little ones up into his arms, and Audrun realized a new home overmountain lay farther away than ever.
BRODHI, FREE ONCE more of meddlesome human children, continued his journey along one of the maze-like pathways among the tents, and sensed the presence, as always, before he saw its progenitor. He stopped. He summoned patience. He did not turn. “Yes, Darmuth?”
Laughter, if soft. Then the other slipped around from behind, sliding into his path. Neatly blocking him.
A short, compact, smooth-skinned man of indeterminate age was Darmuth, with feathery pale brows and eyelashes, and a head shaved all over except for one coarse silver—haired plait low on the back of his skull. It was clubbed on his neck, wrapped with a length of red-dyed leather thong. His eyes were light gray, very like winter water. He wore a simple black leather tunic with the sleeves chopped short to expose muscled tattooed arms, shell-weighted leggings, and a vulgar purple silk sash doubled around his waist. The hilt of his knife, jutting from the tooled sheath tucked into the sash, was black-and-white striated horn, the pommel intricately carved.
“I’ve lost him, Brodhi.”
Irritably Brodhi countered, “You never lose him. You can’t. You’ve just let him wander off.”
The man grinned. “You refer to him as if he’s a pet.”
“Not
my
pet.” Brodhi resettled the bright blue courier’s mantle hanging off his left shoulder, feeling the tug of the wrought-silver badge pinning it to his long-sleeved leather tunic. He hid impatience; Darmuth would keep him here, if he saw it. “Perhaps a leash might serve.”
The man cocked his head. “Have you seen him?”
“Not lately.” Brodhi shrugged idly. “He’s here somewhere. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Rhuan’s
always
somewhere,” Darmuth noted. “Too many ‘somewheres.’ I do lose track.”
Brodhi wasn’t amused. “You do no such thing.”
“All right.” Darmuth’s vulpine grin flashed; his canines were slightly pointed, and he had invested in a brilliant green gemstone that was drilled and set into the left one. “I actually wanted to visit with you. It was an excuse.”
Though surrounded by tents, Brodhi was aware that, as usual, the footpath he inhabited had emptied of people. They found other ways to go where they wished to go rather than share a path with him if they could avoid it.
Or—he brightened a moment—perhaps it was
Darmuth
the humans avoided. In his way, Darmuth was more exotic and unique—and threatening—than a Shoia.
“It was no excuse.” Brodhi folded his arms, mantle rippling. “What is it?”
“Ferize,” Darmuth answered. “How is she?”
Brodhi suppressed all emotion. He held his face expressionless. “Ferize is—Ferize.”
“When did you see her last?”
“I don’t remember.”
One of the feathery brows rose. Darmuth could mimic Brodhi’s arrogance, even to capturing the intonations of his voice, which annoyed Brodhi no end. “Surely you do.”
“A month ago. Two months, as the humans reckon time.”
Brodhi shrugged again, putting more indolence into the motion. “Possibly three.”
Darmuth shook his head in mock admonition. “A man should be more attentive to his wife.”
“I am as attentive as I need to be, for such as Ferize.”
Brodhi smiled easily, flicking supple fingers in a human gesture to suggest departure. “Go away, Darmuth. I don’t like you.”
The tattooed man laughed. “You don’t like
anyone
, Brodhi. Not even your wife. Not even your own—” He paused. “What do the humans call them? Cousins?”
Dryly Brodhi said, “Rhuan makes it supremely difficult for me to like him, Darmuth. You know that.”
“Well, he is difficult,” the other conceded. “But he isn’t my cousin. Nor my kin. Nor even my
kind
. Therefore
you
should tolerate him better, being
Then she saw Davyn’s eyes, even as he smiled and pulled his two little ones up into his arms, and Audrun realized a new home overmountain lay farther away than ever.
BRODHI, FREE ONCE more of meddlesome human children, continued his journey along one of the maze-like pathways among the tents, and sensed the presence, as always, before he saw its progenitor. He stopped. He summoned patience. He did not turn. “Yes, Darmuth?”
Laughter, if soft. Then the other slipped around from behind, sliding into his path. Neatly blocking him.
A short, compact, smooth-skinned man of indeterminate age was Darmuth, with feathery pale brows and eyelashes, and a head shaved all over except for one coarse silver—haired plait low on the back of his skull. It was clubbed on his neck, wrapped with a length of red-dyed leather thong. His eyes were light gray, very like winter water. He wore a simple black leather tunic with the sleeves chopped short to expose muscled tattooed arms, shell-weighted leggings, and a vulgar purple silk sash doubled around his waist. The hilt of his knife, jutting from the tooled sheath tucked into the sash, was black-and-white striated horn, the pommel intricately carved.
“I’ve lost him, Brodhi.”
Irritably Brodhi countered, “You never lose him. You can’t. You’ve just let him wander off.”
The man grinned. “You refer to him as if he’s a pet.”
“Not
my
pet.” Brodhi resettled the bright blue courier’s mantle hanging off his left shoulder, feeling the tug of the wrought-silver badge pinning it to his long-sleeved leather tunic. He hid impatience; Darmuth would keep him here, if he saw it. “Perhaps a leash might serve.”
The man cocked his head. “Have you seen him?”
“Not lately.” Brodhi shrugged idly. “He’s here somewhere. Or so I’ve heard.”
“Rhuan’s
always
somewhere,” Darmuth noted. “Too many ‘somewheres.’ I do lose track.”
Brodhi wasn’t amused. “You do no such thing.”
“All right.” Darmuth’s vulpine grin flashed; his canines were slightly pointed, and he had invested in a brilliant green gemstone that was drilled and set into the left one. “I actually wanted to visit with you. It was an excuse.”
Though surrounded by tents, Brodhi was aware that, as usual, the footpath he inhabited had emptied of people. They found other ways to go where they wished to go rather than share a path with him if they could avoid it.
Or—he brightened a moment—perhaps it was
Darmuth
the humans avoided. In his way, Darmuth was more exotic and unique—and threatening—than a Shoia.
“It was no excuse.” Brodhi folded his arms, mantle rippling. “What is it?”
“Ferize,” Darmuth answered. “How is she?”
Brodhi suppressed all emotion. He held his face expressionless. “Ferize is—Ferize.”
“When did you see her last?”
“I don’t remember.”
One of the feathery brows rose. Darmuth could mimic Brodhi’s arrogance, even to capturing the intonations of his voice, which annoyed Brodhi no end. “Surely you do.”
“A month ago. Two months, as the humans reckon time.”
Brodhi shrugged again, putting more indolence into the motion. “Possibly three.”
Darmuth shook his head in mock admonition. “A man should be more attentive to his wife.”
“I am as attentive as I need to be, for such as Ferize.”
Brodhi smiled easily, flicking supple fingers in a human gesture to suggest departure. “Go away, Darmuth. I don’t like you.”
The tattooed man laughed. “You don’t like
anyone
, Brodhi. Not even your wife. Not even your own—” He paused. “What do the humans call them? Cousins?”
Dryly Brodhi said, “Rhuan makes it supremely difficult for me to like him, Darmuth. You know that.”
“Well, he is difficult,” the other conceded. “But he isn’t my cousin. Nor my kin. Nor even my
kind
. Therefore
you
should tolerate him better, being
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