Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [139]
“If you take my coin, you’re pledging yourself to die for me if need be. Do you truly want to do it, Jill? Never would I wheedle and plead.”
“And because you won’t, I’ll take it.” Jill held out her hand. “But if I kill Corbyn for you, you’re giving me one of those western hunters I saw in your herd.”
With a laugh, Rhodry dropped the coin into her palm.
“Done, and you’re a true silver dagger, sure enough.”
As Jill pocketed the coin, she glanced at Rhodry’s face, and their eyes met. Suddenly she realized that she knew him to the very core of her soul, that somehow, in some strange way, she’d seen that crazed berserker’s smile on his face a thousand times before. It seemed that he must have recognized her, too, because suddenly his smile faded, and he stared deep into her eyes as if he were trying to read some secret hidden there. Abruptly he turned away and beckoned to the servants.
“Bring mead! So we can pledge my avenger.”
“Your what?” Sligyn snapped.
“Well, by every god and his horse’s behind,” Rhodry said, and that daft grin was back. “Do you think I can ask a lass to save my life? I’ll cut Jill’s way to Corbyn, who’ll kill me, no doubt, and then she can end the rebellion by killing him.”
Swearing, yelling at the top of their lungs, the noble-born tried to argue Rhodry down, but he stood firm, his eyes half mad with honor. Jill grabbed his manservant by the arm.
“Run get Nevyn. He’s in your lord’s tent.”
As he followed the servant back, Nevyn was cursing Rhodry in his very soul. Although his heart ached at the thought of Jill riding to war, he knew that he could never stop her. He had, however, expected that Rhodry would have the sense to let her keep him alive. When he reached the arguing crowd, he found Jill standing off to one side. Her eyes pleaded with him for help.
“Now, what’s all this, you stupid dolt?” Nevyn said to Rhodry. “Use the wits you were born with!”
“Wit has naught to do with it.” Rhodry tossed his head. “It’s a matter of honor. I can ask a woman to kill the rebel I’ll never be able to kill myself, but I’ll live shamed if I ask her to save my life. I’d rather die.”
“Methinks, lord cadvridoc, that you’re cutting the point of honor far too fine.”
“Am I, now? A Maelwaedd I am, blood and bone, and the honor of my clan is known to every lord in Deverry. Cursed if I’ll put the slightest smear on that name.”
When Rhodry set his hands on his hips and glared at him Nevyn growled in utter frustration.
“You put me in mind of an old saying. When a Maelwaedd lord starts splitting fine points of honor, it takes three gods to make him hold his tongue.”
“Then maybe you’d best start calling on them.”
Nevyn grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him close.
“Now, you listen to me, Rhodry Maelwaedd!” He gave him a little shake. “There’s more at stake here than your cursed honor! Have you forgotten the dweomer?”
Rhodry turned a little pale.
“I see you had,” Nevyn went on. “Your Wyrd is Eldidd’s Wyrd. You’ve been marked by dweomer from the moment you were born, you little dolt! Why do you think I was always hanging around your court? I’m not letting you throw your life away now, if I blasted well have to ensorcel you!”
Rhodry started trembling.
“Think!” Nevyn snapped. “Which is the worse dishonor, letting Jill do what the dweomer drew her here to do, or heaping some strange ruin upon Eldidd because you were too stubborn to fulfill your Wyrd?”
Rhodry turned his head and glanced this way and that, as if appealing for help from the frightened lords round them. When Nevyn let him go, he stepped back sharply.
“Either you swear to me on the honor of the Maelwaedds that you’ll fight to save your life, not lose it,” Nevyn said levelly, “or I’ll take steps here and now.”
“I’ll swear it.”
“On the honor of the Maelwaedds?”
“On the honor of the Maelwaedds.”
“Good. Then I’ll leave you to your dinner, my lord. Jill, come with me.”
As Nevyn strode away, Jill hurried to catch up, too frightened to disobey.
“So much for Rhodry. I’m most sincerely pleased that you had the wit to send for me.”
“I thought