“We do, at that. But Papa was so ill that he wanted to bathe in a hot spring near our lair. When he didn’t come home, Mama left me to watch my younger hatchling while she went off to find him.” Medea hissed as if she were remembering the day. “Papa never came home. The Horsekin slew him while he tried to get free of the spring, and then they gloated about it.”

“Did your mother kill them for it?”

“As many as she could catch, truly. They couldn’t harm her. I can’t imagine anyone capturing Mama.”

“No more can I. She be magnificent.”

“I’ll tell her you said so. She’ll like that.”

Medea turned around and waddled off, heading back to her mother, who was still in full argument with a furious Dallandra. Salamander sighed and shook his head.

“They can go on like that for half a day.” He waved a hand toward the pair.

“Truly,” Branna said. “I think we’d best go back to camp.”

“Indeed,” Salamander said. “Wynni, I’ll introduce you later.”

By the time she finished talking with Arzosah, Dallandra’s mood had turned foul. It seemed to her that all of her female friends, whether Westfolk or Wyrmish, were taking entirely too much pleasure in telling her their low opinions of Evandar. She stalked back to camp to find Calonderiel waiting for her.

“Where’s Dari?” she snapped.

“Sidro put her down for a nap in our tent,” Cal said. “I want to talk with you, beloved. I don’t want you going off alone with that Laz fellow. If you don’t want me to go with you, take some of the men. He’s not trustworthy.”

Dallandra sighed, considering him as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrow. Arguing with him in one of his jealous moods would only waste a long valuable part of the day.

“Very well,” she said, “I’ll ask Ebañy to go over and finish our talk.” She glanced around and saw him standing nearby with Branna and Berwynna. “Ah, there he is now.”

“That’ll be much better.” Cal grinned at her. “And my thanks.”

Salamander left Berwynna in Branna’s care, then went to his tent with Dallandra. She stood watching while he took the black crystal from his saddlebags. She repeated his instructions all over again.

“But don’t talk to him about Alastyr,” Dallandra finished up. “I don’t want to awaken any memories of dark dweomer.”

“The temptation to use it might be too great, you mean?”

“Just that. Sidro told me about their teacher back in Taenbalapan. Ych! A truly loathsome dark dweomer refugee from Bardek, back when the cities were breaking the power of the dark guilds. Apparently he escaped the archon who was trying to hang him and managed to take ship for Cerrmor. How he made his way north, Sidro didn’t know. I’ll wager that Laz learned plenty of dubious things from him.”