And so for two days Romilly carried Preciosa on her saddle, and, though she had sworn to herself that she could never again confine her freed bird, she yielded to fear at last and tied jesses about her legs.
I dare not let you fly or you would eat of game which would kill you, she tried miserably to form a picture in her mind which the hawk could clearly see, of the game glowing with that unhealthy and poisonous glow, and although she was not sure she had made contact with the bird’s mind, for the hawk sulked and brooded on the saddle, she did not fight the bonds, and rode with her head tucked under her whig; Romilly could feel the fierce hunger pulsing within her, but she seemed willing to ride thus chained for her own protection.
At last it seemed that they were out of danger, though Janni warned all the women that if they should begin to comb out handfuls of hair, or their teeth should loosen, they should tell her at once; she thought they had made a wide enough circle around the tainted land; “But none can be sure with that deadly stuff,” she warned, and rode on, her jaw clenched hard. Once she said to Romilly, with a brief glance that made Romilly think of her hawk, closed-in and brooding, her eyes swiftly hooded, “Orain was fostered in that village. And now no man will be able to live in it for a span of years and perhaps more. All the Gods blast Lyondri and his devil weapons!”
Romilly cast a quick glance at Caryl, but either he had not heard, or concealed it. How heavy a weight the boy must carry!
They camped a little early that night, and while the women were setting up the tent, Janni called Romilly away from the camp.
“Come with me, I need to talk to you. No, Caryl, not you,” she added, sharply, and the boy fell back like a puppy that had been kicked. Janni led Romilly a little away from the camp, and motioned to her to sit down, lowering herself crosslegged to the rough soft grass.
“Any sign of loosening teeth, falling hair?”
Romilly bared her teeth in a smile, then raised her hand and rugged graphically at her abort hair. “Not a bit of it, Janni,” she said, and the woman breathed a sigh of relief.
“Evanda be praised,” she said, “Who has guarded her maidens. I found some loose hair this morning when I combed my hair, but I am growing old and must look to falling hair as a woman’s lot in age. Still I could not help fearing that we had not ridden wide enough round that cursed site. What madman will destroy the very land of his own vassals? Oh, yes, I have ridden to war, I can see burning a croft – though I like it not to kill the humble folk because of the wars of the great and mighty – but a croft, burned, can be rebuilt, and crops trampled down can be grown again when the land is at peace. But to destroy the very land so no crops will grow for a generation? Perhaps I am too squeamish for a warrior,” she said, and fell for a moment into silence. At last she asked, “Have you had trouble with your prisoner?”
“No,” said Romilly, “he is glad to be coming home, but he has scrupulously minded his parole.”
“I thought as much, but I am glad to hear you say it,” said Jandria. She loosened the cheap silver buckles on her cloak and flung it back, sighing as the wind ruffled her thick hair. Her face seemed lined and weary. Romilly said with swift sympathy, “You are so tired, Jandria. Let me take your part in the camp work tonight, and go to rest in your tent now. I will bring your evening meal to you in your blanket-roll.”
Janni smiled. “It is not weariness which weighs on me, Romilly; I am old and hardened to travel and camp, and I have slept in places far more comfortless than this without a whimper. I am troubled, that is all, for good sense tells me one thing and honor tells me another.”