Read Online The Shadow Isle by Katharine Kerr - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katharine Kerr
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herdsmen began to help round up the flocks and herds following the procession. Up near the front as she was, Dallandra heard angry shouts, yells, cries of fear and alarm, but she could see nothing. Everyone halted except for the dogs, who rushed back and forth, barking. The archers and swordsmen in the middle of the line of march began to turn their horses to ride back. The entire line broke apart as riders drifted into the meadows lining the road.
“Ye gods!” Pir said. “Those shouts—some of them be Gel da’Thae.”
Too late, Dallandra remembered just how many Gel da’Thae rode with the alar—the men Pir had brought with him, the remnant of Grallezar’s bodyguard, and Grallezar herself. Over the winter they’d become loyal friends to the other members of the alar, but in the eyes of the refugees who’d settled Mandra, they’d be Meradan, demons, and little else. Swearing under his breath, Calonderiel turned his horse out of line and galloped back. As he passed the squads of swordsmen, he called to them to follow.
Dallandra’s dappled gray mare danced nervously in the road and pulled at the reins. Pir laid a hand on the horse’s neck, up under her mane, and she quieted.
“My thanks,” Dallandra said. “Can you see what’s happening back there?”
“I can’t,” Pir said. “But the shouting’s died down.”
Calonderiel returned shortly after with Grallezar riding beside him. Grallezar guided her stolid chestnut gelding up to Dallandra and leaned over to speak to her while Calonderiel went on to confer with Dar.
“We Gel da’Thae,” Grallezar said, “had best avoid strife. I did tell the banadar that we be willing to camp elsewhere, up the north-running road a fair piece, say. Then when you all leave Mandra, we shall rejoin you as you pass by.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dallandra said, “I should have thought—”
“Nah, nah, nah, we all should have thought! Be not so apologetic, my friend.” Grallezar smiled, revealing her pointed teeth. “It be no great difficulty for us to all turn out of line. Sidro, though, I would leave with you. She does look much like a Deverry woman, and she does take good care of you.”
“True, and Vek had best stay with her in case he has another seizure.”
“Just so.” Grallezar turned to Pir. “The mare that the Wise One rides, will she be calm enough now?”
“I’d best walk beside her into town,” Pir said. “When she dismounts, then will I head north to join you. None will notice a mere one of us.”
“True enough,” Grallezar said. “What is that they say in Deverry? Done, then!”
Daralanteriel rode back along the line of march to reassure the townsfolk while Calonderiel restored order to the alar itself. The Gel da’Thae contingent sorted out their packhorses and tents, then headed north under the grim eyes of the local herdsmen.
When Daralanteriel rode back to his place at the head of the line, his face showed no trace of emotion, a sure sign that he was hiding some strong feeling—worry, Dalla assumed. No one had ever taught him how to rule even a small territory, since no one had ever guessed that some day he would have actual subjects in an actual town. As the procession moved forward again, Carra, his wife, urged her horse up next to his and took over the job of acknowledging his admirers. His children followed, aping their mother’s smiles and waves. Judging from the cheers, the townspeople and farmfolk lining the road were well pleased.
At the edge of town Valandario waited. Beside her stood a tall, pale-haired man, dressed in a long tunic clasped with a distinctive broad belt, beaded in a pattern of blue circles and triangles. Valandario introduced him to the prince as the town mayor. When Daralanteriel dismounted, the mayor knelt to him.
“Please get up,” Dar said. “There’s no use in you kneeling in cold mud.”
The mayor laughed, then rose and launched into a speech of welcome. Other townsfolk came running to
“Ye gods!” Pir said. “Those shouts—some of them be Gel da’Thae.”
Too late, Dallandra remembered just how many Gel da’Thae rode with the alar—the men Pir had brought with him, the remnant of Grallezar’s bodyguard, and Grallezar herself. Over the winter they’d become loyal friends to the other members of the alar, but in the eyes of the refugees who’d settled Mandra, they’d be Meradan, demons, and little else. Swearing under his breath, Calonderiel turned his horse out of line and galloped back. As he passed the squads of swordsmen, he called to them to follow.
Dallandra’s dappled gray mare danced nervously in the road and pulled at the reins. Pir laid a hand on the horse’s neck, up under her mane, and she quieted.
“My thanks,” Dallandra said. “Can you see what’s happening back there?”
“I can’t,” Pir said. “But the shouting’s died down.”
Calonderiel returned shortly after with Grallezar riding beside him. Grallezar guided her stolid chestnut gelding up to Dallandra and leaned over to speak to her while Calonderiel went on to confer with Dar.
“We Gel da’Thae,” Grallezar said, “had best avoid strife. I did tell the banadar that we be willing to camp elsewhere, up the north-running road a fair piece, say. Then when you all leave Mandra, we shall rejoin you as you pass by.”
“I’m so sorry,” Dallandra said, “I should have thought—”
“Nah, nah, nah, we all should have thought! Be not so apologetic, my friend.” Grallezar smiled, revealing her pointed teeth. “It be no great difficulty for us to all turn out of line. Sidro, though, I would leave with you. She does look much like a Deverry woman, and she does take good care of you.”
“True, and Vek had best stay with her in case he has another seizure.”
“Just so.” Grallezar turned to Pir. “The mare that the Wise One rides, will she be calm enough now?”
“I’d best walk beside her into town,” Pir said. “When she dismounts, then will I head north to join you. None will notice a mere one of us.”
“True enough,” Grallezar said. “What is that they say in Deverry? Done, then!”
Daralanteriel rode back along the line of march to reassure the townsfolk while Calonderiel restored order to the alar itself. The Gel da’Thae contingent sorted out their packhorses and tents, then headed north under the grim eyes of the local herdsmen.
When Daralanteriel rode back to his place at the head of the line, his face showed no trace of emotion, a sure sign that he was hiding some strong feeling—worry, Dalla assumed. No one had ever taught him how to rule even a small territory, since no one had ever guessed that some day he would have actual subjects in an actual town. As the procession moved forward again, Carra, his wife, urged her horse up next to his and took over the job of acknowledging his admirers. His children followed, aping their mother’s smiles and waves. Judging from the cheers, the townspeople and farmfolk lining the road were well pleased.
At the edge of town Valandario waited. Beside her stood a tall, pale-haired man, dressed in a long tunic clasped with a distinctive broad belt, beaded in a pattern of blue circles and triangles. Valandario introduced him to the prince as the town mayor. When Daralanteriel dismounted, the mayor knelt to him.
“Please get up,” Dar said. “There’s no use in you kneeling in cold mud.”
The mayor laughed, then rose and launched into a speech of welcome. Other townsfolk came running to
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