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love. That was something she d never before thought a Hill Raider could do.
Maybe there were more differences amongst Hill Raiders than just the names of
their Kemmmons, the color of their bandings. All cove peoples weren t alike.
Craft that sailed from Cirrus Cove were longer and sleeker than the squat,
shallow draft boats that came from Wallow s Cove, far to the south. Their
captain and crew were different in temperament as well.
She d never known Hill Raiders with black bandings like Egan s to have
appeared in any of the cove towns. And Elsy had bragged of her father as a
skilled horseman, not a marauder. Khamsin hadn t sensed the fear, or distrust,
she d expected in the small village. Nor from the red-haired child.
"Elsy seemed very bright, the little time I spoke to her."
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Egan s face glowed at her compliment. "She s a smart one, all right. Knows
her figures and her letters now. And she s good with the animals. Cats or
cows, it doesn t matter.  Course, all the people like her, too. Got a nice way
about her, she does."
And it went on from there until they came to a small clearing in the
thickness of the pines. Druke slowed and motioned for Egan to come to his
side. They exchanged a few words and with a nod to one of the younger men to
accompany him, Egan rode on ahead.
Druke turned his horse to face Khamsin. "Tried to warn you, didn t I?" he
teased. "Bit of a one-sided conversation when you get him talking."
"Where s he going?" She watched the riders fade into the shadows.
"Been trouble here before. Fav lhir."
Ciro said they never came this far north! "Why would the Fav lhir cause
trouble here?"
" Tis a good question." Druke didn t sound as if he meant to be sarcastic,
but there was a note of frustration in his voice. "There was a time, well
past, when all Hill people shared a bond, a respect. But a blood lust, an
unholy taste for death and destruction is part of the way of life for the
Fav lhir these days. You can thank Lady Melande for that." There was a
derisive note in his voice. "They ride in that Witch s service, you know."
That she did. "And Kemmon-Ro?"
Druke eyed her with surprise. " Tis plain as the name itself, if you think on
it. Why, we re the only ones who carry his name in ours at all! Kemmon-Ro,
lad. We ride for the Master of Traakhal."
Khamsin sat in stunned silence. She should have known. Kemmon-Ro. It was the
first part of his other name as Kiasidira was hers. She knew it, though it was
a name she d only read. She forced it from her mind, fearful of even mentally
voicing it. But the thought that filled that vacant space was just as
disturbing.
She rode in the company of the enemy.
Egan returned at that moment.
"Best not to chance it, Druke." His expression was grim. He reined his horse
around to face Khamsin. "Camron, the main road ahead could hold trouble, more
for us than for you, as you bear no Kemmon. Still, there s always a chance."
He nodded over his shoulder to the break in the pines. "We re going to take
the south trail towards the Khal to get around. You re welcome to come, if you
like. Unless you think your uncle s Fav lhir."
Khamsin s mind worked furiously while he spoke. What better place to hide
from the Sorcerer than in the midst of his own riders? They were not only
protection but a source of information as well. The Land here, as Ciro
foretold her, fairly bubbled with intrigue.
"Unlikely," she replied to his comment. "Unless the Khalar, too, work with
the Witch."
A disparaging snort was all she received from Egan as he waved the younger
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men on ahead. "Skeely, Wade, we ll take the lake road. You know the way."
And in a flurry of pine needles and dust, they were off.
Having already admitted her ignorance about Egan s tribe, she questioned him
further on Kemmon-Ro as they rode, jostling along the narrower trail to the
south. The forest thinned out. She saw the first signs of marshland in the
patches of mossy grass interspersed with thin, stick-like reeds.
Kemmon-Ro, Egan told her with a strong note of pride in his voice, were a
faction of the Magrisi, though the split took place over two hundred years
before. But they were forest and plains people. The mountain-bred Khalar
accepted them with reservation, suspicious at first of these newcomers who
perhaps thought to usurp their position in Traakhal. But the Kemmon-Ro were
content with their forests. The Khalar soon realized no threat existed and an
alliance was formed.
The Kemmon-Ro dealt with the Khalar on equal terms now. Both wore the black [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]