A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [109]
Maer sounded so indignant that Nevyn laughed aloud. Maer drew himself up square-shouldered and glared at him.
“Don’t you think it was unjust?”
“Umph, well. But you’re the first lad I’ve ever met who got that dagger because of a prank.”
“That’s been the tale of my days, good sir. I only want a bit of fun, and ye gods, everyone goes and takes it wrong.”
Late on a summer afternoon, Nevyn and his guard rode to the top of a rise and saw Cannobaen spread out along the little stream called Y Brog. At the sight of the round, thatched houses, Maer broke into a wide grin.
“Ale tonight with supper, my lord. Or do they even have a tavern in this hole?”
“They did the last time I was here. But that was a long time ago.”
At a hundred families, mostly of farmers or fishermen, Cannobaen was about twice as big as Nevyn had been remembering it. There was a good-sized proper inn on the old site of the small tavern. After he rented a chamber, Nevyn ordered ale and a meal for himself and stood his silver dagger to one last dinner, too. The innkeep, a stout fellow named Ewsn, hovered nearby.
“Do you get much trade through here?” Nevyn said, mostly to be polite.
“We’ve got a merchant in our town who buys and sells off in the west—with those tribes with the strange-sounding names. Men from Aberwyn come through every now and then to buy the horses he brings back.” He hesitated, sucking stumps of teeth. “Be you a herbman, sir? My wife has this pain in her joints, you see, and so I was wondering.”
“I am at that. In the morning, I’ll be glad to have a talk with her if she’d like.”
The morning, however, apparently wasn’t good enough for the innkeep’s wife, Samwna. While she served Nevyn and Maer their dinner, Samwna also treated them to a long recital of symptoms as well rehearsed as a bard’s performance. While they ate roast beef and turnips, they heard all about the mysterious pain in her joints, strange aches in the small of her back, and night sweats, sometimes hot, sometimes cold. With the apple tart, they heard about headaches and odd moments when she felt quite dizzy.
“It’s all related to your woman’s change of life,” Nevyn said. “I’ve got soothing herbs that should help a good deal.”
Maer went scarlet and almost choked.
“My most humble thanks.” Samwna made him a little curtsy. “I’ve been wondering and wondering, I have. Here, you’re not thinking of settling in our town, are you, good sir? It’s been years and years since there’s been a herbman in our neighborhood.”
“As a matter of fact, I am. I’m getting too old to wander the roads, and I want a nice quiet place to settle down.”
“Oh, towns don’t come much quieter than Cannobaen!” Samwna paused to laugh. “Why, the big excitement lately was when one of Lord Pertyc’s boarhounds killed two chickens over at Myna’s farm.”
Nevyn smiled, well pleased. Idly he rubbed the front of his shirt and touched the opal hidden inside. If there’s trouble in Aberwyn, he thought, it can cursed well stay in Aberwyn! No doubt remote Cannobaen would be undisturbed by these rumors of rebellion.
“By every hell, how can you be so stubborn?”
“It comes with my family title.” Pertyc Maelwaedd touched the device worked on his shirt. “We’re Badgers, my friend. We hold on.”
“By that line of thinking, we Bears would have to stay in our holes.” Danry, Tieryn Cernmeton and Pertyc’s closest friend, perched on the edge of a carved table and considered him. “But cursed if I will.”
“Why do you think I nicknamed you the Falcon, back when we were lads? But this time you’re flying too high.”
They were sequestered in Pertyc’s small study behind a barred door, and a good thing, too, because