A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [120]
All that afternoon, while they drank together in the great hall and talked idly about everything but the rebellion, Pertyc was aware of Danry studying him like a tactical problem. Over breakfast the next day, when Danry suggested that they go hunting alone rather than organizing a full-scale stag hunt, Pertyc felt a confrontation coming, but he agreed simply to have it over with. When they rode out, they took only a lad with a pack mule and some dogs with them. Danry carried the usual short hunting bow; Pertyc had a yew longbow, mounted with silver, that had been a wedding gift from his wife’s brother.
At the edge of the forest, they left the lad with the horses and went alone on foot to see if they could flush a deer. The dogs, a pair of the sleek gray breed called gwertrae, were eager, whining as they sniffed round for tracks and nosed their way through the bracken and fern. Above them rose the ancient oaks, casting a shade cold with a hint of winter coming. Pertyc and Danry had hunted together this way a hundred times, picking their way down narrow trails as silently as the wild animals they sought. Pertyc found himself wishing they were both lads again, too young to be troubled by obligations and vows and the need to ride to war. When at length they came to a clearing where the sun came down in a long golden shaft onto the leaf-littered ground, Danry whistled sharply to the dogs and brought them back to heel.
“They haven’t even found us a trail yet,” Pertyc said.
Danry turned to him with a faint smile.
“My answer’s still the same,” Pertyc went on. “I won’t ride with you in the spring.”
“As stubborn as a badger, truly. But I came to tell you somewhat, and if you love me, then never say where you heard it.”
“You know I’ll keep silent.”
“Well and good. Then listen, Perro, things are growing nasty. You were wise to bring your lad home. I’m not the only man who had thoughts about your claim to the throne. There are some who’d be glad to put little Draego in your place.”
“They’ll have to kill me to get at the lad.”
“That’s just what they might do.”
Pertyc went cold, standing in the warm shaft of autumn sun.
“He wouldn’t be the first child to have a throne won for him by grown men,” Danry said. “Now listen, I don’t know any more than rumors. No one’s going to speak honestly of such things in front of me, because they know you’re my oath-sworn friend. It would be a long sight easier to stop this talk if you were one of us.”
Pertyc looked away.
“If they come for the lad, how are you going to stop them?” Danry said. “You can’t afford an army. Ah, ye gods, I feel torn apart, Perro.”
“Then maybe you should join me and the king.”
Danry winced, shaking his head in honest pain.
“I can’t. My honor would never let me rest.”
“No more would mine if I joined the rebels. I’ll warn you somewhat. If your allies decide to try for my lad, then get ready to watch me die.”
Danry came close to weeping. At his feet, the gwertroedd whined, dancing a step away, then coming reluctantly back to heel. Far off in the forests, a bird sang, a flood of defiant melody in the shadows.
“And if I die, and you live,” Pertyc said slowly, “I’ll beg you to watch over Adraegyn for me. He’ll need a faithful dog if he’s surrounded by wolves.”
Danry nodded his agreement. Pertyc hesitated, considering saying more, but there was nothing to say. He wanted to have one last day with his friend when they could pretend that things were as they’d always been.
“Let’s get on with the hunt, shall we?”
Danry threw up his hand and sent the eager hounds forward. They coursed slowly through the woods for another hour, neither of them speaking, the dogs growing sullen