Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [155]
He got up and paced restlessly to the window. Maybe he could reach the gwerbret with the message. He could put Corbyn’s letter and some clothes into a sack that the hawk could carry in its talons, then somehow evade Aderyn and fly to Aberwyn. Somehow. He laughed, an hysterical giggle, knowing that no matter how fast he flew, Aderyn would be following behind. Unless, of course, he killed Aderyn first. He clutched the windowsill hard with both hands. To kill your own father—oh, ye gods, had he come this low?
Loddlaen flung himself down on the bed again. All afternoon he lay there, and his mind was as choppy as the sea when the tide runs one way and the wind another.
Since there was a chance that Corbyn would make a desperate sally now that his messengers had been apprehended, everyone in Rhodry’s camp went armed that afternoon. Jill joined Calonderiel and Jennantar, who were standing guard over the horses with their longbows ready. As the hours dragged by, even the two elves were hard-pressed to find jests.
“You know, Jill,” Jennantar said. “I’ve been thinking about our Lord Rhodry ever since that little scrap he had with Cal here. There’s something about the way he moved, and how quick he was, that’s suspicious. Would you do somewhat for me? See if you can get him to touch your silver dagger. I wager it glows.”
“What’s the old saying?” Jill said. “Elven blood in Eldidd veins?”
“Oho!” Calonderiel joined in. “You think, lass, unlike the rest of the stinking Round-ears.”
“Would you not use that word?” Jennantar snapped. “It’s more than a little discourteous, especially in front of Jill.”
“Now, Jill may have round ears.” Calonderiel pointed at one of them with his bow. “But she’s not a Round-ear. There’s a big difference.”
Jennatar growled like a dog.
“Oh, very well. I won’t sully your pointed ears with the word again.” Cal ducked back as the other elf swung a fake punch at him. “But truly, Jill, see what happens when Rhodry gets that blade in his hands.”
“I’ll do my best,” Jill said, honestly intrigued. “And as soon as I can, too.”
By then it was nearing sunset, and the fading light made a sally impossible. When Rhodry called off the guard, Jill and the two elves went back to camp. Since everyone was expecting a long siege, the elves had raised the tent they’d brought on their travois. It was a beautiful thing, about ten feet across and eight high, made of purple-dyed leather and painted with pictures of running deer in the forest, so realistically done that Jill could have sworn that the deer would turn their heads and look at her. While Jennantar went to draw rations for the three of them, Calonderiel helped Jill off with her chain mail. She felt as if she were floating just by contrast.
“I pray to every god in the sky that Corbyn doesn’t sally before I get used to this miserable stuff.”
“So do I.” Calonderiel looked sincerely worried. “You might ask Aderyn for some ointment if your shoulders are sore.”
“You know, I think I will.”
Aderyn did indeed have a rubefacient mixture in sweet lard that took some of the ache away. Jill went into the comfortable privacy of the tent and rubbed the minty-smelling salve into her shoulders and upper arms, then merely sat there for a while to rest. Now that she was faced with the hard reality of war, she was frightened, thinking that her father was right enough. She knew nothing of the screaming, shoving confusion of a real battle.
“It’s too late now to get out of it,” Jill remarked to the gray gnome. “And better dead than a coward.”
The gnome yawned in unconcern. She supposed that he could have no idea of what death meant.
“Jill?” It was Rhodry’s voice. “Are you in there?”
“I am, my lord. I’ll come out.”
But Rhodry slipped in just as she put on her shirt, and he was grinning in triumph at catching