A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [141]
Rhodry winced. Silver dagger or no, there were a few shameful things in his life that he didn’t care to remember.
“I wasn’t truly aware of much, then,” he said at last. All at once a thought struck him. “Oh, here, I’ve sad news for you. Or did you know about Aderyn?”
“Is he dead then?”
“He is, of old age and nothing more.”
Her eyes spilled tears, and she spun round, hiding her face in the crook of an elbow. When Rhodry laid a hesitant hand on her shoulder to comfort her, she turned to him blindly and sobbed against his chest.
“That hurts,” she choked out. “I’m surprised at how much.”
“Then forgive me for being the bearer of the news.”
She nodded, pulling away, wiping her face vigorously on the hem of her shirt.
“I’ll talk to you later,” she said, her voice still thick. “I need a moment or two alone.”
She strode off, walking so fast and surely, even in her grief, that he wondered at the blindness of men for believing in the dweomer cloak that Evandar had fashioned for her.
On a bed of blankets, Lord Comerr lay beside Lord Erddyr’s fire. His face was dead-pale, his breathing shallow, and his skin cool to the touch—a trio of omens that troubled Dallandra deeply. While she changed the bandages on his wounds, Erddyr knelt beside her and did his best to help, handing over things as she asked for them. Comerr stirred once or twice at the pain, but he never spoke.
“Tell me honestly,” Erddyr said. “Will he live?”
“Maybe. He’s a hard man, and there’s hope, but he’s lost a terrible lot of blood.”
With a grunt, Erddyr sat back on his heels and studied Comerr’s face.
“Let me ask you a presumptuous question, my lord,” Dallandra went on. “Have you ever thought of asking the gwerbret for his intervention? Lord Adry is dead, and Comerr close enough to it. Fighting over which of them will be tieryn someday seems a bit superfluous, shall we say?”
“True spoken. And they aren’t the only noble lords fallen in this scrap. I’ve been thinking very hard about sending that message.”
“That gladdens my heart. Do you think the other side will submit?”
“They’ll have cursed little choice if the gwerbret takes the matter under his jurisdiction. Besides, Nomyr’s the only lord left on their side, and he’s in this only out of duty.”
“Didn’t Adry have a son?”
“He does, but the lad’s only seven years old.”
Dallandra muttered an oath under her breath. Erddyr studied his mercifully unconscious ally.
“Ah, by the fart-freezing hells, it aches my heart to see him maimed like this.”
“Better than dead. The arm wasn’t worth saving, and I never could have stopped the bleeding in time.”
“Oh, I’m not questioning your decision.” Erddyr shuddered like a wet dog. “I think I’ll take my chance to get him out of this while he can’t speak for himself. I’ll send messengers tomorrow.”
“The gods will honor you for it. You know, my lord, I happen to have a letter of safe conduct with the gwerbret’s seal upon it. You’d be most welcome to make use of it.”
“My thanks a hundredfold. I will.”
“I wonder if his lordship would do me a favor. I’d just as soon have my friend Rhodry out of this. Could you send your pair of silver daggers as the messengers?”
“Oh, I’d grant your favor gladly, but they’d be in worse danger there than here. You’re forgetting that Rhodry is the man who killed Lord Adry. If any of Adry’s men catch Rhodry on the road, they’ll cut him down even if he’s carrying letters from the Lord of Hell himself.”
“I hadn’t realized that, my lord.”
Erddyr rubbed his beard and looked at Comerr, who tossed his head in his sleep and grunted in pain. Suddenly too weary to stand, Dallandra sat down right on the ground and cradled her head in both hands.
“A thousand apologies, good herbwoman,” Erddyr said. “I never should have kept you here like this. You need your sleep at your age and all.”
“So I do. Since my lordship excuses me?”
Yet, once she was lying down in her blankets, she found herself thinking about Aderyn instead of falling asleep.