A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [14]
“How old is the lass?” Maddyn said.
“Thirteen, just old enough to wed this year. Our prince will have to marry her, of course, and as soon as ever he can. I’ve no doubt that her mother will see reason if only we can get Maryn there. I’m told that everyone in the city lives in terror of anarchy.”
“Then no doubt they’ll welcome him with shouting and flowers in their hair,” Caradoc said. “Good.”
“Perhaps, but first we have to get him there. I suggest we leave on the morrow.”
Since Caradoc wanted to keep the plan as secret as possible, he and Maddyn told the other silver daggers that they were going to ride a raid on the Eldidd border to provide a distraction when the Marked Prince left for Cerrmor with his escort. No one thought to question the plan, which was a decent one in its way. In a chilly dawn Maryn and Nevyn made a great show of riding out with a hundred members of the king’s own guard and a wagon train filled with supplies and gifts for the Cerrmor lords. Ahead of them rode a herald holding the banner of Pyrdon. With them on the road went the king with an honor guard of his own—to escort them to the border, or so it was said. The queen wept openly; silver horns blared; the assembled populace cheered the young prince and his splendid Wyrd. Only Maddyn and Caradoc knew that hidden among the silver daggers’ supplies were shabby clothes and armor for Maryn, and that those coffers of gifts were empty.
When the silver daggers assembled in the ward later that morning, only their own women came to watch. As he kissed Clwna good-bye Maddyn felt a pang of guilt; she was expecting them all home in a week or two, while he knew that it would be months before they could send for the women, if indeed they even lived long enough to do so. From his manner she seemed to pick up that something was wrong, because she kissed him repeatedly and clung to him.
“Here, here, my sweet, what’s so wrong?”
“I worry, that’s all. I do every time you ride to war, or haven’t you even noticed?” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Maddo, it’s worse this time. Somewhat’s going to happen. I just know it.”
“Whist, whist, little one. If it does, then it’ll be my Wyrd, and what can either of us do about that?”
Although she tried to force out a smile, her lips were trembling. She gave his hand one last squeeze, then ran for the barracks. She would be crying her heart out, he knew, and the guilt stabbed again, worse than a sword.
“Ah come on, Maddo!” It was Aethan, striding over with his horse in tow. “We’ll be back soon enough. Those Eldidd dogs can’t fight worth a pig’s fart.”
“So they can’t, true enough.” He forced out a smile of his own. The captain had insisted that he keep the truth to himself until they were miles from the dun. “Where’s young Branoic?”
“Here, sir.” Branoic came up, leading his horse into line. The lad was grinning as broadly as if they were going to some royal entertainment. “Let’s hope our enemies can fight well enough to give us some sport, huh? Ye gods, I thought I’d go mad this winter, shut up in the dun with naught to do but loll around and dice.”
“Listen to him!” Aethan rolled his eyes heavenward. “I’ll wager we get our fill of blood soon enough.”
The words stabbed Maddyn like an omen, but he kept smiling.
“Aethan, do me somewhat of a favor, will you? Ride with our young Branno here, and keep an eye on him.”
Although the lad bristled, as if to say he didn’t need such help, Aethan forestalled him with a friendly punch on the arm.
“I will, at that, at least until the fighting starts. Then he can keep an eye on me.”
They laughed, both as excited as young horses turned into pasture after a winter in the stables. The sight of them together wrung Maddyn’s heart for reasons that he hated to put into words, the one dark and grizzled, his oldest friend, the other blond and young, so new to his life that winter, and yet it seemed that he’d known Branoic for a hundred