Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [136]
“Done, then,” she said at last. “Dwgyn, get thirty men ready to ride straightaway.”
As Jill ran up to her chamber to get her gear, she was cursing her Wyrd, hating herself and hating the dweomer for taking her over. But for her beloved father’s sake, she would use any weapon that came her way.
There were times when the depth of his pride surprised even Rhodry himself. His back hurt so badly from the kicks and bruises of the day before that he could barely stand, and now that the berserker fit had left him, he was feeling every new blow that he’d gotten, but he drove himself to accompany Sligyn on a tour through the somber camp. The men were bringing in the dead from the battlefield. Everywhere Rhodry heard men cursing or keening as they recognized dead friends. They needed to see their cadvridoc on his feet.
“Do we call this a victory or not?” Rhodry said.
“Corbyn’s the one who fled, eh?”
Down near the supply wagons, Jennantar and Calonderiel were standing guard over the prisoners, who slouched on the ground in twos or threes, clinging together for comfort. Most were wounded, but they’d have to wait for the chirurgeons to finish with Rhodry’s men.
“Any news of Cullyn?” Jennantar asked.
“Still the same.” Rhodry wearily rubbed the side of his face. “I came to thank you.”
“No thanks needed. He did his best to save the life of a friend of mine. I would have loosed more shafts, but I was afraid of hitting you and your men. I came close enough to killing Cullyn as it was.”
“Better you than one of those scum.”
“Well, you pulled him out in the end, eh?” Sligyn laid a fatherly hand on Rhodry’s arm. “All that matters, eh? In the laps of the gods, now.”
Rhodry nodded. He could never explain, not even to himself in any clear way, just why it was so important that he be the man who saved Cullyn. He should have pulled him out of the mob just so they would have been even on that favor. It was important, perhaps the most important thing in his life, that each owe the other nothing—and yet he couldn’t say why.
His tunic red with gore, Aderyn trotted up with a couple of servants laden with medical supplies.
“Your men are all tended, lord cadvridoc. But Nevyn said to tell you that Lord Daumyr just died.”
Rhodry tossed back his head and keened. Now a noble-born man had died for his sake. Sligyn tightened his grip on Rhodry’s arm and swore under his breath.
“I’ll be working on the prisoners,” Aderyn said.
Beckoning to the servants, he walked away, looking for those who were the worst off.
“Ah, by the hells,” Jennantar said. “I still don’t see how Corbyn got away. I was sure you and Daumyr had him trapped.”
“So was I.” Sligyn shook his head in furious bafflement. “It was foul, stinking, evil luck, that’s all. Lot of little things, like Daumyr’s sword breaking. And then that horse went down in front of mine, and I couldn’t reach him. Luck, ill luck.”
One of the prisoners laughed, an hysterical mutter under his breath. When Rhodry swung around to look at him, he flung up one arm and cringed back. His blond hair was crusted with blood.
“I’m not going to strike a wounded man,” Rhodry said. “But what are you laughing about?”
“My apologies, I didn’t even mean to. But it wasn’t luck that let our lord escape. By the gods, you’ll never kill Corbyn! It’s the demon-shot sorcerer. He made a prophecy, you see.”
“A what?”
“Loddlaen made this prophecy. He got it from his scrying stone.” The prisoner paused to lick dry lips. “It says that Lord Corbyn can never be slain in battle except by a sword, but he’ll never be slain by any man’s hand. It’s true, my lord. You saw what happened on the field today. It must be true.”
Sligyn’s florid face turned pale. Aderyn turned to listen.
“Aderyn?” Rhodry said. “Is there any truth in this?”
“The lad’s not lying to you, my lord. So Loddlaen must have made a prophecy.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Does the cadvridoc really want me to tell him if the prophecy’s a true one?”
“It must be, or you’d be assuring me that it’s false.”
Aderyn gave a sigh that was more like a groan.
“I’m sworn