The smaller vore was whining, but the larger one had settled on its haunches and was staring at them again.
“The truth, mage,” the human spoke again, but Halithe was certain these were the words of the larger vore.“Why have you come?”
“To seek shelter, as I said,” Ritathan wrapped an arm around Halithe.“But there is another reason.”
The smaller vore barked as if in triumph.
“To find the one who holds my key.”Ritathan admitted.
Halithe sucked in a breath but said nothing.The silence that followed was complete as both vore and humans considered what he had said.
“We will escort you to the Chosen.”The vore stood and shook itself.“Come.”
Chapter Eight
The Black Hills
Jerrold kept his face still as he guided the horses up the road to the broken gates of the Keep of the Black Hills.It wouldn’t do to gloat over the destruction.
“You didn’t have to bring me, you know.”Mother Bercie said from beside him.She was perched on the seat behind him, her white hair pulled back in a braid.“I could have driven myself.”
“Don’t trust these folk,” he muttered.
She gave him a hard look.“I am more than capable of protecting myself.”
While that was true if she faced the cripple and his women, Jerrold wasn’t sure she could hold her own against the two males.The boy, of course, but the weaponsmaster?From the reports the watchers had given, his sword work was deadly.
Not that Jerrold was going to say that to his mother.
She nudged his shoulder.“Just be polite.”
The Lord High Baron Orval was seated on a bench in the courtyard, young Yfin next to him.They appeared to be reading a book together.No doubt hearing the sound of the horses approaching, Orval lifted his head, blinking in the sunlight, then greeted the new arrivals with a smile.“Mother Bercie, Jerrold,” he called out.“Good afternoon and welcome!”
“Afternoon, Orval,” Mother Bercie said, not waiting for a hand down from the wagon.
“Cheery bastard.”Jerrold grumbled to himself as he lowered himself from the driver’s seat.His mother gave him another sharp look before she walked toward Orval.
Jerrold ground-tied the horse, giving the courtyard the once-over.There was a sparring circle roughed out in the center and not much else.Looked like the stable roof had collapsed a bit more.There was a barn cat sitting outside the stable, basking in the sun, staring at Jerrold intently.He managed not to glance at the Keep as he followed his mother into the gatehouse.Cirda was on duty there, best not to give him away.
“Yfin, why not go hunting,” Orval suggested to the boy.“Pigeon and dumplings for supper, if you catch enough.”
“Thanks, O’papa,” The boy jumped up eagerly and ran off.Jerrold watched him go.That might give Cirda and the others a challenge, hiding from the lad.
Amari greeted Mother Bercie at the door and ushered them both into the gatehouse.Roth and Rosalind were waiting there, with the twins.Rosalind was seated, holding young Dalan in her lap.Facing the newcomers, the boy was chewing on his fists and drooling while bouncing on her knees.Roth had baby Lara in his arms.She turned her head to watch the people moving about, her eyes bright blue and sparkling.
The room was cramped, but the table had been shifted to make room for Jerrold and Bercie by the fire.Jerrold settled in a chair, feeling it creak under him.
“Well, look at you,” Bercie tickled Dalan’s tummy.He chortled, reaching messy fingers out to touch her face.But Bercie had enough experience to avoid that trap.She laughed and pulled back.“Teething, I see,” she said as she settled into a chair at the table.
“And something else,” Orval said proudly.“Roth?”
Roth set the girl-baby down on her pudgy legs.She clung to his knee, giggling.“Look at Papa,” Roth said, pointing at Orval.
“Look what I have, Lara,” the proud papa said, a wooden utensil in his hand.
“Waa-waa-waa;” the tiny feet stumbled forward, hand outstretched.She wobbled badly and Jerrold held his breath, waiting for the inevitable fall—
Lara reached her father’s knee and leaned against it, reaching for the spoon…dagger.A wooden dagger.
