A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [13]
“Just so.” The king traced out the Pyrdon border with his fingertip. “There could be several different enemies laying for our prince. Here, Nevyn, do you know who’s regent down in Cerrmor? Or has the fighting over the throne already begun?”
“I fear the latter, my liege, but I don’t truly know. If you’ll excuse me, I intend to find out.”
The king nodded a dismissal, taking this hint of dweomer with a casual indifference. It was odd, Maddyn thought to himself, just how easily one did get used to dweomer, as if it were the natural order of things and a world without magic the aberration. Maryn was practically jigging where he stood in sheer excitement. Although Maddyn could sympathize—after all, the lad’s Wyrd lay close at hand—he was also worried, just because he could remember being fifteen and sure that he would never die, no matter what happened to other men. He knew better now, and he had no desire to see his prince learn as he had: the hard way. It seemed that the captain agreed with him.
“If the Cantrae king comes out in force, my liege,” Cara-doc said, “there aren’t enough men in Pyrdon to keep our prince safe.”
Casyl winced.
“Forgive my bluntness, Your Highness, but—”
“No apologies needed, Captain. The point is both true and well taken. What do you suggest? I can see that there’s somewhat on your mind.”
“Well, my liege, maybe our enemies, whoever they are, know that the prince will be trying to reach Cerrmor, but they still have to find him on the road. I suggest that you send a troop of picked men, the sort you’d choose to guard the prince, down the east-running road. Then, a while later, we leave, heading toward Eldidd, say. The prince goes with us—as a silver dagger. Who looks in a dung heap for a jewel?”
“Just so.” Casyl nodded in slow admiration. “Just so, Captain.”
“Oh, splendid!” Maryn broke in. “I’ve always wanted to carry one of those daggers. Have you looked at one close up, Father? They’re truly beautiful.”
“So they are.” Casyl suppressed a smile. “One thing, though, Captain. I understand that you left Cerrmor in some disgrace. Will you be endangering yourself by returning?”
“If I live that long, my liege, I suppose I will. Haven’t thought about all that in twelve, thirteen years, truly.” He glanced at Maryn. “I suppose I could petition the true king for a pardon, if things came to that.”
“You have my pardon already, Captain.” Maryn drew himself up to full height, and all at once they could see the man he’d be someday. “No doubt you’ll redeem yourself thrice over by the time I ride into Dun Deverry as king.”
Abruptly Casyl turned away and paced over to the window. Maddyn was the only one who noticed that his liege’s eyes were fall of tears.
The next morning Nevyn came out to the barracks and fetched Caradoc and Maddyn for what he called a “little stroll.” They went down to the lakeshore just outside the walls of the dun and sat down on the rocks right next to the water. For a moment Nevyn merely looked around him, but his eyes were so heavy-lidded and strange that Maddyn assumed the councillor was working some dweomer.
“I think we should be safe here,” Nevyn remarked, confirming his suspicions. “The presence of the water will act as a sort of shield, you see, from the wrong sort of prying eyes. Now, then. Captain, I’ve received news from Cerrmor of a sort. The capital’s in an uproar, but it’s being torn apart by despair, not politicking. The only thing that’s keeping the Cerrmor side together is the regent, a certain Tieryn Elyc, an honorable man and a shrewd one, apparently, but even he hasn’t been able to stop a great many lords from switching their loyalties to Cantrae.”
“Elyc? That’s not Elyc of Dai Aver, is it?”
“The very one. You know him?”
“Did once, a cursed long time ago now. If he hasn’t changed, he’s a decent sort, truly.”
“Well and good, then. In theory