By Katharine Kerr
Booklet seven of the prestigious Deverry sequence, an epic delusion rooted in Celtic mythology that intricately interweaves human and elven background over numerous hundred years.
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Additional info for A Time of War
Very well. Bring Baki over. I’ll saddle him up first. ’ Yet they made only a few pitiful miles that afternoon. Meer was exhausted with his mourning, Jahdo with the horror he’d seen and smelt, and in the hot sun it seemed they could barely put one foot in front of the other. At times Meer would burst into a mourning song, half music, half keening, only to break off in mid-phrase and fall silent again. As if they picked up his mood, the horse and mule walked head down and weary, ambling to a stop unless Jahdo yanked their lead ropes to keep them moving.
Even when the rain slacked and died, Meer sat unmoving, until Jahdo finally could stand it no longer. ‘Meer? ’ ‘No doubt you do, lad. My apologies. Here, take off those wet boots. Wet boots rub wet feet raw. ’ ‘Clearing up pretty good. ’ Meer considered for a moment. ’ ‘More hills. ’ ‘We’ll camp here, then. ’ ‘I can just see it, truly. I thought I’d take the waterskins down. ’ ‘I do, if you don’t mind fetching me one. The lore says that one of the fifty-two contrary things is this: sitting in the rain makes a man thirsty.
I’ve never seen an arrow so long. ’ Meer was whispering. ’ Jahdo wanted to agree, but he didn’t dare risk speaking for fear he’d sob aloud. Between them and the wagon lay a scatter of corpses, as if they were a few sticks of wood tossed in the eddy of this river of death. A young man lay on his back, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, his eyes pools of slirne in a bloated grey face. The body of a comrade lay slung over his legs. Nearby lay an arm, torn clear off and as grey as stone, with the bone exposed and picked clean all down the wrist.