A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [149]
Although her pale face was wet with tears, she looked up and forced a smile.
“So they will. Then fight to a true victory, my love, and bring our lad home safe to me.”
“I’ll swear it. Someday you’ll have the favor of a true Eldidd queen.”
Out in the ward their elder son, Cunvelyn, paced back and forth while he waited, grinning as if his face would split from it. At fifteen, the lad was riding to battle for the first time.
“And who are we riding for, lad?” Danry said.
“The true king. The one true king of Eldidd.”
The warband broke out cheering: to the king, the king! Danry was laughing as he mounted his horse. As they trotted out of the gates, the sun was just beginning to rise, a new day dawning for Eldidd.
By riding hard they reached Aberwyn in three days, and as they rode, they picked up men and allies until Danry, by a mutual consent among the lords, led an army of close to four hundred into the city. They found the gwerbret’s dun a seething confusion of men and horses. Supply carts clogged the main ward, horses stood tethered in walled gardens, bedrolls lay scattered on the floor of the great hall, battle gear overflowed the tables while warriors stood to drink and eat, servants ran endlessly back and forth with food and messages and spare bits of armor. Danry shoved his way through and found a council of war in progress in the gwerbret’s private chambers at the top of the main broch. Ordinary lords hovered outside while tieryns crammed the half-round room; Mainoic and Gatryc stood at either side of the pretender and talked urgently, often at the same time. Danry sought out Leomyr and found him leaning into the curve of the wall out of the way. Danry was tired and exasperated enough to dispense with fencing.
“There’s no time now for your cursed factions. Let the Badger stay in his den.”
“I know it as well as you do, but it might be too late for the Maelwaedd anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen. Just listen to the talk, Falcon.”
Danry left him and worked through the crowd, stopping to say a word here and there to a friend. Everyone was full of the same question: how did Aeryc come to know so much about their plans?
“He even knew about that blasted cauldron the guilds gave the king,” Ladoic of Siddclog said. “Treachery, lads.”
The men around nodded grimly, staring at Danry in a decidedly unpleasant way. Danry was struck breathless, wondering if they doubted him, but then Ladoic went on.
“Neutral, was he? This Badger friend of yours, I mean. I think Pertyc has blinded you good and proper, Danry. We should have ridden to Cannobaen and wiped him out the day he refused to join us.”
Most of the room was turning to listen. When Danry glanced around, he saw cold eyes, grim eyes, eyes filled with a bitter hatred.
“Pertyc swore a vow to me,” Danry snarled.
“Oh, no doubt,” Ladoic said. “No one’s blaming you, my friend. Vows have been broken before, haven’t they? Someone sent the pus-boil Deverrian all the news he needed.”
Nods—grim smiles—Danry felt as if he were being cut with a thousand knives.
“By the hells, Pertyc would rather die than lie to me. It must have been someone else!”
“No time for that now, anyway!” Yvmur came striding down the room, pushing men aside to reach Danry. “It doesn’t matter who slit the wineskin—what counts is stitching the leak. Later we can deal with whoever this traitor might be.”
More nods—a few mutters—a sullen defeated agreement. For the rest of the day, Danry kept to himself. Although he refused to believe Pertyc capable of treachery, the wondering ate at him like poison.
Instead of the feasts and entertainments, instead of a hall draped with blue and gold and filled with lovely women, instead of the long processions and the temples, Cawaryn was declared king in Gwerbret Gatryc’s ward on a dark cold morning. Torches flared, sending their scarlet light over the grim faces of the men, lords to the front, riders to the rear, packed close together, armed for war and ready to ride. Up on an improvised dais, the lad stood