“Salve, my lord.” He enunciated each word carefully. “Of your presence, we know nothing before we are coming upon you. We would not be displaying our spears in your face if we knew. To us, grant forgiveness, at your pleasure. To our households, your coming brings honor. What do you desire?”
“Who are you?” Vai demanded.
The man glanced up as if to gauge how angry Vai was. In that moment, his gaze skipped to take me in. He ducked his head, hands clenching into fists.
“My lord, I am of the people called the Belgae. I am Devyn, son of the priest Mad Kirwyn, he who is beloved of Carnonos the god.” He studied me. “Your pardon I ask, my lord. How is this beast come to be walking beside you? Have you caught a spirit woman on the ice? She wears the black hair and golden eyes of the hunter. But the face she wears is the face of my dead sister.”
Vai looked from the man to me and back to the man. The shape of Devyn’s face was familiar because it was the same as my own.
24
Vai knew he could hammer them into the dirt, and because he knew it, they believed it.
“I am a magister of rare potency and considerable influence. My wife and I washed ashore north of here under unexpected circumstances. We seek shelter and assistance in continuing our journey south.”
“Your wife?” Devyn glanced at me with a puzzled frown. The other men cast surreptitious looks at me. “My lord, if you say so, but no shame is there to a man who is capturing a wild beast to burnish his standing in his House.”
Vai stared down the man until Devyn opened both hands and bent his head. “I expect my wife to be shown the same courtesy as you show to me.”
“Your pardon, my lord. My duty it is, to be escorting you.” He spoke to the others in a lilting run of words I could not really understand. To judge from Vai’s look of concentration, he was having a better time picking out meaning from the heavy dialect, and it didn’t appear he liked what they were saying.
Nevertheless, he handed over the food supplies we had taken from the cabin. In exchange they gave us all four horses, one for our gear. The two groups separated: We and Devyn rode south, while the village men continued north.
“How can they know you’re a cold mage just by looking at you?” I said in a low voice. “It can’t just be your good looks. Not every handsome man is a cold mage.”