A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [163]
“Odd, truly, but not some bizarre coincidence. It’s my Wyrd, Carra, and maybe yours, too, but no man can say what another’s Wyrd may be. Wyrd, and the dweomer that Wyrd brings with it—I can smell it all round us.”
“You look frightened, too.”
“I am. You’re carrying my death with you.”
Nedd, who’d been close to asleep, snapped up his head to stare. Carra tried to speak but could only stammer. Rhodry laughed, a long berserker’s howl, and pledged her with his tankard.
“I don’t hold it against you, mind. I’ve loved many a woman in my day, but none as much as I love my lady Death. I know what you’re going to ask, Carra—I’m drunk, sure enough, but not so drunk that I’m talking nonsense. Indulge me, my lady, since I’ve just pledged my life to you and all that, and let me talk awhile. I’ve lived a good bit longer than you might think, and every now and then I get to looking back, like old men will, and I can see now that I’ve never loved anyone as much as her. Once I thought I loved honor, but honor’s just another name for my lady Death, because sooner or later, as sure as sure, a man’s honor will lead him to her bed.” Abruptly he leaned onto the table. “Do you believe in sorcery, Carra? In the dweomer, and those who know its ways?”
“Weil, sort of. I mean, I wouldn’t know, but you hear all those things—”
“Some of them are true. I know it, you see. I know it deep in my heart, and it’s a harsh and bitter knowing in its way.” He gave her a lopsided grin that made him look like a lad of twenty. “Do you think I’m mad?”
“Not truly, but a bit daft—I can’t deny that.”
“You’re a practical sort of lass, and you’ll need to be.” He finished the ale in his tankard, then refilled it from the flagon with an unsteady hand. “There’s only been one woman in my whole life that I’ve loved as much as I love the lady Death, but she loved the dweomer more than me. It’s enough to drive any man daft, that. Be that as it may, she told me a prophecy once. Run where you will, Rhodry, said she, but the dweomer will catch you in the end. Or somewhat like that. It was years ago now, and I don’t quite remember her exact words. But I do remember how I felt while she was speaking, that she was telling me the truth and naught more, and somehow I knew that when the time came and my Wyrd sprang upon me, I’d feel its claws sink deep, and I’d know that my lady Death was getting ready to accept me at last for the true lover I’ve been, all these long years. And while you were telling me your tale, I felt those claws bite. Soon I’ll lie with her at last, though it’s a cold and narrow bed we’ll share, my lady and me.”
Nedd was asleep in the straw with the dogs. In the hearth the fire was dying down, throwing a cloak of shadows over Rhodry’s face. With a wrench of will Carra got up and went to the hearth to put on more wood. She felt so cold at heart that she wanted the heat as much as the light. As the fire blazed up, she heard him moving behind her and turned just as he knelt in the straw at her feet.
“Will you take me into your service, my lady?”
“What? Of course I will. I mean, I don’t have a lot of choice, do I? Since you know Dar and all.”
“A very practical lass.” He grinned at her and rose, dusting off the knees of his filthy brigga as if it would make a difference. “Good. Nedd! Wake up! Escort your lady to her elegant chambers, will you? And make sure you stand a good guard tonight, because I feel trouble riding for all of us with an army at its back.”
Drunk as he was, he made her a graceful bow, then wove his way out of the tavern room. Nedd got up, signaling to the dogs to join him.
“What do you think of that silver dagger, Nedd? Do you like him?”
Nedd