A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [157]
“So did I,” Pertyc stammered out. “How close is Leomyr?”
“A day’s ride.”
Pertyc could only shake his head in bewilderment. Halaberiel, who’d apparently seen Nevyn’s arrival, came hurrying up to the table of honor.
“And what are we going to do about the women?” the banadar said. “It sounds like there’s not a dun in Eldidd where they’d be safe.”
Pertyc nodded, glancing around. Aderyn was standing in the doorway and watching Nevyn with his blank owlish stare.
“We can’t send them into the forest,” Nevyn said. “Well, I guess they’ll just have to stay here, and we’ll simply have to hold the siege until the king can lift it.”
Pertyc found his tongue at last.
“Easy to say, not so easy to do. If the archers hold them off, they’ll probably try to fire the dun. You know, ride as close as they can and sling torches over the wall. We’ve got mounds of firewood stacked all everywhere, you know, for the beacon.”
“I sometimes marvel at the gods.” Halaberiel was grinning to take the sting out of his words. “Here they gave you Round-ears heads that are as big as ours, but they forgot to put any brains in them. You’ve got two dweomermen on your side.”
“And what does that have to do with anything?”
Halaberiel rolled his eyes heavenward to beg the gods to bear witness to the aforementioned lack of brains.
“He means that if Leomyr tries to fire the dun,” Nevyn broke in. “It won’t burn.”
“Now here, are you telling me you can command the fire?”
Nevyn glanced around, pointed to a wisp of straw on the hearth, and snapped his fingers. The straw burst into flames. When he snapped his fingers again, it went quite stone-cold out. Pertyc felt like fainting dead away.
“I thought I’d shown you that trick. Now, my lord, I suggest we prepare for the siege.”
At last Pertyc rediscovered how to talk.
“One last question. Have you seen Danry in your scrying?”
“Well, I have, my lord. It aches my heart to tell you this, but Danry’s dead, and so is his elder son.”
Pertyc wept, tossing his head to scatter the tears away.
“Ah, ye gods, I knew it would happen when he chose this rotten road, but it hurts, my lord. Was it in battle?”
“For his son, it was. But Danry … well, Leomyr and six men murdered him on the road. I think that Danry was trying to get free and warn you the rebels were coming, but of course, I can’t know for certain.”
“It would be like him, to think of me.” He heard his voice shake and swallowed hard, then turned to face the great hall. “Men, listen! When the rebels start riding for the gates, Lord Leomyr of Dun Gwerbyn is mine. Do you hear me? No man is to send an arrow his way until I’ve had my chance at him. Now let’s get to work. We’ve got to warn the villagers and farmers, and we need to start distributing the arrows to our stations on the walls.”
The day passed in a confusion too frantic to leave Pertyc time to mourn, but late that evening he walked alone in the dark ward and thought of Danry. He would have given his right arm for a chance to kiss him farewell. His wife had always accused him of loving Danry as much as he loved her; it was true enough, he supposed, although he’d never loved Danry more, either, not that she’d believed him. Wrapped in the loss of both of them, he climbed up the hundred and fifty steps of the Cannobaen light, because the tower view could often soothe him. On the platform up top, the beacon keeper crouched beside the fire pit and fed split chunks of log into the leaping flames. At the far edge Halaberiel was leaning on the protective stone wall and surveying the dark swell of the ocean, spattered with silver drops of moonlight. Pertyc leaned next to him and watched the waves sliding in, touched with ghostly foam, so far below.
“Well, Perro, looks like you’re ready for your uninvited guests.”
“As ready as ever I can be. There’s still time for you and your men to head home, you know.”
“There’s not enough time in a hundred years for that. I was thinking about your wedding, and …”
“You know, Hal, I don’t really want to remember just how happy I was