A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [141]
Maer, of course, was the only man in the warband who saw the congregation that assembled to watch them. The Wildfolk came in swarms, lining either side of the practice ground like onlookers at a contest, crawling all over the targets, standing behind the men and mimicking everything they did, ruffling the fletching on the arrows and occasionally even pinching the archers themselves, just to see if they could spoil their aim. The first time Maer saw an arrow skewer one of the Wildfolk he nearly shouted aloud—he could feel his face turning pale—but the little creature merely disappeared, then popped back into manifestation a few feet away, no worse for the experience. Every now and then he saw the blue sprite, standing nearby and watching him sadly. The reproach in her eyes was so human that he almost felt guilty, as if he’d actually betrayed her.
The rigorous training left Maer little time for his new wife, which to his surprise annoyed him. He had to admit that being married was turning out to have advantages. It was nice to have Glaenara whenever he wanted, and in the warm comfort of their own bed, not the hard ground. At dinner, when they sat together at the servants’ table and shared a trencher, Glaenara would smile and listen with a flattering intensity to his account of his day until she had to go help old Maudda in the women’s hall. Since Maer would go drink with the rest of the warband at that point, he found himself thinking that he’d lost very little by marrying compared with what he’d gained.
One night, when Maer had a little less ale than usual, he found himself thinking about his new wife’s sweet body and left the table early. When he went to their bedchamber, he found her sitting up on the edge of the bed and mending a rip in his spare shirt by candlelight. Maer sat down on the floor and watched her sew, frowning a little at her work in the uncertain light.
“My apologies for that,” Maer said. “I lost one of those cursed arrows in a hedge, you see, and our cat-eyed friends made me fetch it out again. I guess the fletcher can straighten them if they’re not too bad.”
“I’d rather mend for you than anyone else.”
She looked up with a smile that Maer found sweetly troubling. He wondered how long it would take her to get the blasted shirt finished so they could go to bed.
“Maer? Are you happy with me?”
“Happy?” Maer was taken utterly off guard. “Well, now, I don’t truly think much about things like being happy. I didn’t think you did, either.”
“I never have before.” Glaenara was concentrating on knotting her thread. “But I’m starting to.”
“Well, I like being part of the warband a lot more than I liked being a silver dagger, even with the archery practice.” He put his arms around her and kissed her. “Come lie down, and I’ll tell you some more.”
“Gladly. When are you going to give me a baby, Maer?”
“When the Goddess wants me to give you one, I’ll wager, and not before, but come lie down, and we’ll give her a chance at it.”
On the morrow morning, after archery practice, he lingered behind to walk back to the dun with Pertyc.
“My lord, somewhat I wanted to ask you. You’re a married man and all, so you’d understand. I’ve been thinking that we might get besieged. There’s your daughter, and now my woman, and then the old nurse and the serving lasses. What’s going to happen to them?”
“I’m sending them away long before the trouble starts. I wondered if you’d been worrying about that.”
“I have. Glae might be a widow soon enough, but I couldn’t bear it, watching her starve with us.”