Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [111]
“I’d believe him, my lord,” Cullyn said. “Didn’t he tell us about the ambush? For that matter, didn’t he tell us that you were on the way?”
“True enough. Well and good then, Aderyn, if you say that Sligyn’s coming with an army, then we’ll stay here and wait for him.”
“My thanks, my lord. If I might make a suggestion, on the morrow you might want to have some of your men cut down trees to barricade that gap in the walls. Dregydd has some axes left from his trading.”
“Good idea,” Rhodry said. “By the black hairy ass of the Lord of Hell, I feel like such a dolt!”
“His lordship is nothing of the sort,” Aderyn snapped. “That trap was very well laid, and you had no way of knowing that Loddlaen was using dweomer to put thoughts into your mind. It’s just a very good thing that Loddlaen had no way of knowing about Nevyn.”
Rhodry shuddered profoundly.
“But there’s one small thing I don’t understand,” Aderyn went on. “Why didn’t Corbyn have his whole army out here to wait for you?”
“Simple,” Cullyn broke in. “If he’d marched west with his full force, every lord in the north would have seen him, and they would have mustered and followed him straightaway. But he and his allies could slip a few men out, a couple at a time, no doubt, and then follow with the rest. If his worm-riddled plan had worked, he would have been a full day’s march ahead of Rhodry’s allies. Oh, they’d have caught us on the road, sure enough.”
“They might catch us here instead,” Rhodry said. “Aderyn, do you know how close Corbyn is?”
“I don’t, but if his lordship will excuse me, I intend to find out.”
For a while Rhodry and Cullyn sat together in a companionable silence and watched the leaping fire. All around them, the men slept, rolled up in their blankets. For all that Cullyn was a dishonored silver dagger, Rhodry found his presence comforting. Here, at least, was a man he could understand.
“It’s passing strange. I’ve heard of your glory, of course, and I’ve always wanted to meet you, but I was thinking it might be under better circumstances than this.”
“Oh, I don’t know, my lord. I couldn’t think of a better time for you to ride my way.”
Rhodry laughed.
“True enough. Huh, if the caravan hadn’t sent a messenger to me, I suppose Loddlaen would have sent one of his men, claiming to be a guard or suchlike. You just spared him the trouble by sending your lad.”
“My lad?” Cullyn gave him a grin. “Here, my lord, Jill’s my daughter.”
“Oh, ye gods! Here I rode with her all day, and I never once thought she was a lass.”
Sometime later Jill came to sit with her father. She’d apparently washed her face and hair in the stream, because the dirt was gone, revealing a face that was not only obviously female but beautiful. Or, at least, it would be beautiful if it weren’t for the black-and-blue bruise on her face.
“Where did you get that bruise?” Cullyn said to her.
“You gave it to me this morning.”
Cullyn winced.
“Well, so I did. Forgive me, my sweet. I was half to pieces, thinking you’d be slain.”
Jill turned to Cullyn and gave him a smile that turned her beauty as delicate and glowing as that of any court lady. Rhodry’s heart sank. It was more than unfair of the gods to give a lass like this a father who happened to be the best swordsman in the whole wide kingdom of Deverry.
All morning the tieryn’s loyal men mustered at Dun Cannobaen. Following Sligyn’s orders, they’d ridden fast, leaving their provision carts to follow at their own slow pace, under the guard of the common-born spearmen that their various towns owed them in time of war. Nevyn sat off to one side of the great hall and kept an eye on Lovyan as she greeted first Lord Oledd, then Peredyr, then Daumyr, and finally Manydd, who was the captain of the warband stationed at Dun Gwerbyn. At last over two hundred men were crowded into the great hall. Lovyan was taking the