“Yes,” I said, and Dave gave me a strange look, half puzzlement, half scrutiny. “Tell me more about Rinaldo,” I said quickly.
“Not much to say,” he replied. “She bore him, and I’ve heard she taught him something of her Arts. He didn’t know his father all that well, Brand being away so much. Kind of a wild kid. Ran away any number of times and hung out with a band of outlaws-“
“Dalt’s people?” I asked.
He nodded. “Rode with them, they say-even though his mother’d placed bounties on many of their heads at that time.”
“Wait a minute. You say that she really hated these outlaws and mercenaries-“
“’Hate’ may be the wrong word. She’d never bothered about them before, but when her son got friendly with them I think she just got mad.”
“She thought they were a bad influence?”
“No, I think she didn’t like it that he’d run to them and they’d take him in whenever he had a falling out with her.”
“Yet you say that she saw Dalt paid off out of the Keep’s treasure and allowed him to ride away, after they’d forced her hand against Sharu Garrul.”
“Yup. Big argument at the time, too, between Rinaldo and his mom, over just that point. And she finally gave in. That’s the way I heard it from a couple of guys who were there. One of the few times the boy actually stood up to her and won, they say. In fact, that’s why the guys deserted. She ordered all witnesses to their argument executed, they told me. They were the only ones managed to get away.”
“Tough lady.”
“Yup.”
We walked on back to the area where we’d been seated and ate some more food. The song of the wind rose in pitch and a storm began out at sea. I asked Dave about big doglike creatures, and he told me that packs of them would probably be feasting on the battle’s victims tonight. They were native to the area.
“We divide the spoils,” he said. “I want the rations, the wine and any valuables. They just want the dead.”
“What good are the valuables to you?” I said.
He looked suddenly apprehensive, as if I were considering the possibility of robbing him.
“Oh, it don’t really amount to much. It’s just that I’ve always been a thrifty person,” he said, “and I make it sound more important than it is. You never can tell,” he added.
“That’s true,” I agreed.
“How’d you get here anyway, Merle?” he asked quickly, as if to get my mind off the subject of his loot.
“Walked,” I said.
“That don’t sound right. Nobody comes here willingly.”
“I didn’t know I was coming here. Don’t think I’ll be staying long either,” I said, as I saw him take up the small knife and begin toying with it. “No sense going below and begging after hospitality at a time like this.”
“That’s true,” he remarked.
Was the old coot actually thinking of attacking me, to protect his cache? He could be more than a little mad by now, living up here alone in his stinking cave, pretending to be a saint.
“Would you be interested in returning to Kashfa,” I said, “if I could set you on the right trail?”
He gave me a crafty look. “You don’t know that much about Kashfa,” he said, “or you wouldn’t have been asking me all those questions. Now you say you can send me home?”
“I take it you’re not interested?”
He sighed. “Not really, not any more. It’s too late now. This is my home. I enjoy being a hermit.”
I shrugged. “Well, thanks for feeding me, and thanks for all the news.”
I got to my feet.
“Where are you going now?” he asked.
“I think I’ll look around some, then head for home.” I backed away from that small lunatic glow in his eyes.
He raised the knife, his grip tightened on it. Then he lowered it and cut another piece of cheese.
“Here, you can take some of the cheese with you if you want,” he said.
“No, that’s okay. Thanks.”
“Just trying to save you some money. Have a good trip.”