Free Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) by Susan Sizemore, Marguerite Krause Page B

mentioned in town, the curiosity was always mild and short-lived. Princess Vray was in training to be the kingdom ’ s Redmother, after all. People considered her wise to look beyond Edian, to get to know the other towns and villages and study with Red and Brownmothers throughout the kingdom. Perhaps she would even visit Sitrine or Dherrica. Didn ’ t both of Rhenlan ’ s powerful neighbors have Shaper princes of a marriageable age?
    Dael heard all the good-natured speculation, and said nothing. Duty filled his days, and most of his nights. He adjusted patrol routes to include the newly acquired territory, oversaw the training of new guards, and dealt with all the petty squabbles that ebbed and flowed in a busy capital like Edian.
    Vray did not return.
    * * *
    Pirse took the path because it was narrow and appeared infrequently used. He had no idea where it led. That didn ’ t matter, of course, because he didn ’ t know where he was to begin with. He hardly remembered who he was. All that was important was that he keep moving. He didn ’ t remember why it was so important, but he had something to do, and he wouldn ’ t be able to do it if they caught him.
    The path wound across the valley floor, crossed the wide river at an ankle-deep ford, and climbed the side of a hill. He watched his feet moving forward, first one, then the other. When the swarm of insects buzzing around his blood-matted hair became too thick to see through, he summoned up the energy to wave them away with his right hand. His left hand and arm he kept firmly pressed over the gash in his side. Despite his efforts, every other step jarred the wound. But the dull pain had been with him for so long now that it hardly registered on his over-stressed senses.
    The forest teemed with life, undisturbed by the passage of one Child of the Rock. He knew how to pass through the forest without alerting its inhabitants. His pursuers did not. They would never be able to approach him undetected here. That was why he had come. He could trust the forest to hide him.
    He rounded a bend in the path and stopped, swaying. Was his bleary vision failing? Staring down at the path, he thought he saw four feet, two his own dust-covered hunting boots, the other two clad in soft hide shoes. He waved feebly at the cloud of gnats and flies in front of his face, but the extra set of feet didn ’ t disappear.
    “ You don ’ t look at all well. ”
    Somehow he took a step back and raised his head. The owner of the voice, and the feet, was a short man with bent legs and a round, pleasantly ugly face.
    “ Stay back, ” he croaked hoarsely.
    “ Watch where you ’ re —”
    His next backward step fell on the crumbling edge of the path. Below him was nothing but vertical hillside. He flailed with his right arm. The man paused in mid-sentence, grabbed Pirse ’ s arm, and hauled him forward to safety.
    “ — going, ” the man concluded. “ You ’ d better come inside. ”
    He was short but very strong. After a few moments of unfocused and totally ineffectual resistance, Pirse found himself in the back of a cool cave, drinking from a cup of water held to his lips by the man.
    “ Now I know who you are. You ’ re Pirse, the Dherrican prince. You ’ ve been very helpful, you know. ”
    Hearing his name after so many days of solitude was a jolt. Pirse pushed the cup away. “ What do you mean? Who are you? ”
    “ We ’ re both dragon slayers. ” The man put the cup aside and began unlacing the front of Pirse ’ s tunic. “ You only kill the small physical ones, of course. But every little bit helps. ”
    “ Small? ” Pirse protested automatically.
    The man pried Pirse ’ s arm gently away from his side, then tsked in disapproval. “ I don ’ t like the look of that. You need a Greenmother. Perhaps Savyea will come. ” He stood. “ I ’ ll go get her. ”
    “ Who are you? ”
    “ Morb. ”
    Pirse stared at him. “ Grandfather ’ s wizard? ”
    “ Not anymore,