The Gold Falcon. Katharine Kerr

yet I have hope. From everything Dalla’s told me, Cullyn well and truly broke that particular chain of wyrd in the last life he shared with Branna. If Gerran remembers – not that he’ll know he’s remembering of course – but if he does remember, deep in his mind somewhere, then mayhap the outcome will be a fair one. And if the outcome is foul, then we’ll know that he doesn’t remember Cullyn of Cerrmor’s wisdom.’

      The Wildfolk stared at him and solemnly scratched their heads, miming confusion.

      ‘I could have put that more clearly, truly,’ Salamander said. ‘Mayhap it’s time for me to get some sleep.’

      The Wildfolk all nodded vigorously, then one at a time, disappeared. Yawning, he took off all his clothes but his loin-wrap and lay down on the mattress. He considered a blanket, but the summer night was still hot. Wrapped in its warmth, he fell asleep.

      Salamander woke to the sound of furious words outside his chamber and the pink light of a cloudy dawn beyond his window. He sat up and listened till he could place the voices: Gerran and Mirryn, arguing over Cadryc’s predictable orders to his son and heir.

      ‘You’ve got to rein that temper in,’ Gerran was saying. ‘You cannot challenge your own father to an honour duel, and you know it.’

      ‘It’s all very well for you to talk, Gerro.’ Mirryn’s voice shook with rage. ‘No one’s going to think you’re a coward. Now get your hands off me! I want to go back and tell Father –’

      ‘You’re not going to tell him one word more.’

      A pause, a long pause that brought Salamander to his feet, ready to intervene if things turned nasty. He took a few barefoot steps towards the door.