A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [146]
Nevyn floated right along after them to a small chamber hung with tapestries, as dull and dead as painted parchment to the astral sight. Gatryc and his guest sat in carved chairs by a small fire, took the mead from the page, and sent the boy away. In this plane, the silver goblets, bathed in the bluish aura of the moon-metal, seemed as alive as the hands which held them. Carefully Nevyn focused his consciousness down one degree, until the chamber barely glowed with the etheric light and he could, with great effort, discern their thoughts.
“That’s all very well for now,” the guest was saying. “But how will you feel when Mainoic is controlling the throne?”
“That will be the time to make our move. Listen, Leomyr, a prize like this is worth waiting for.”
“True-spoken, Your Grace. But if we don’t advance the Maelwaedd claim now, men might have grave doubts when we do. And why did you swear to Cawaryn, they’ll say, if you never believed him a king?”
Gatryc considered, rolling his goblet between the palms of his hands.
“True-spoken. It’s a vexed situation, truly. We don’t have enough men behind us to make Adraegyn king by force. That’s why Danry was so important.”
“I know. But maybe we should have the lad now, for safekeeping, shall we say?”
“If we move on Pertyc Maelwaedd, we might as well refuse to swear to Cawaryn and be done with it. Everyone will know why we’re doing it.”
“I see naught wrong with crushing the only king’s man in our territory before the war comes. He’s an enemy at our flank, for all his supposed neutrality.”
“Perhaps.” Gatryc had a swallow of mead. “But with ten men or whatever it is he’s got, no one’s going to believe he’s a dangerous threat to the rebellion. And then there’s Danry. And his hundred and twenty men. And his allies.”
Leomyr considered.
“Well, Your Grace,” Leomyr said at last, “you’re exactly right about one thing: it’s too soon to move, one way or another. I only want to keep these questions alive in your mind. When it comes time for the new king to be proclaimed, we’ll have to sniff around and see what we can pick up. I think a few more lords may join us, once they see Yvmur all puffed up and prancing round the king.”
Nevyn had heard enough. He thought himself outside, flew over the dun walls, and headed home. On the morrow, he left Aderyn at the cottage and rode out to the archery ground, where he found Lord Pertyc practicing with his men.
“News for you, my lord,” Nevyn said. “Let’s walk a bit away, shall we?”
Pertyc followed him into the trees, where the fog hung in clammy gray festoons from the branches.
“Tell me somewhat, my lord. What do you know of an Eldidd peer named Leomyr?”
“Tieryn Dun Gwerbyn? Why do you ask?”
“Do you think him a friend that needs protecting? I’ll swear to you that he’s the worst enemy you have.”
Pertyc went a little pale, staring at him like a child who fears a beating.
“How do you know that?”
“Ways of my own. Do you honor him?”
“Not in the least. Danry warned me about him, you see. I’m just cursed surprised you know, too.”
“And did Danry tell you that Leomyr’s as close as two cows in a chilly field with the gwerbret of Aberwyn?”
“He only hinted about it. He didn’t know for sure.”
“I do know. Listen, if either of those two ride your way, or if they send you messages, don’t believe a word they say. And send Maer down to the village to tell me straightaway, will you?”
Over the next week Nevyn spent many a long and dangerous night traveling through the etheric until he knew the names and images of the men he needed to watch. From then on, he could scry more safely in the fire. He saw Leomyr busy himself with his demesne and his family, as if factions were the farthest thing from his mind despite the string of messengers coming and going between him, his allies, and Gwerbret Aberwyn. He