Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [172]
“Oh, no doubt.” Nevyn allowed himself a chuckle. “Are you ever going to tell Rhodry the truth?”
“Never, and not for the sake of my rather besmirched honor. It’s simply that every man in Eldidd has to believe that Rhodry’s a true-born Maelwaedd or he can never rule in Dun Gwerbyn. I doubt me if my poor honest son could keep the secret.”
“So do I. The lads got a fine honor indeed. My thanks for telling me the truth. It clears up a great puzzle. Aderyn’s been rambling about Westfolk blood in the Maelwaedd clan, and how it skips generations to all come out in someone, but that seemed more than a bit farfetched to me.”
“And quite unnecessary,” Lovyan said with a small firm nod, then proceeded to change the subject in a way that made it clear she never wanted it raised again. “I wonder when Rhys will ride our way? He’ll have to give his agreement on the way I settle this rebellion. I suppose he’s already polishing a few nasty remarks to spoil his brother’s victory. You can’t know how hard it is for a woman to have two of her sons wrangling like this. Nevyn, do you know why Rhys hates Rhodry so much?”
“I don’t. I wish I did—I’d put a stop to it.”
This time, Nevyn wasn’t merely putting Lovyan off with cryptic remarks. Over the years, he’d done many meditations to discover if Rhys’s hatred was part of the tangled chain of Wyrd that Nevyn and Rhodry shared. It was no such thing, merely one of those irrational tempers that spring up between blood kin. At some point Rhys and Rhodry would have to resolve it, if not in this life, then in the next, but that, mercifully, would be no concern of his.
There were other souls, of course, who were his concern, and that afternoon Nevyn went to Cullyn’s chamber. He found Cullyn dressed and out of bed, sitting on the carved chest by the window with his left arm in a sling. Cullyn was pale and so gaunt that the dark circles under his eyes looked like pools of shadow, but he was mending nicely.
“How well will this blasted arm heal, do you think?” Cullyn asked.
“I truly don’t know. We’ll have to wait until we get the splints off. It was a clean break, and you were too sick at first to move it much, so there’s hope.”
“At least it wasn’t my sword arm.”
“Now, here, are you still brooding about Rhodry?”
“Don’t be a dolt, herbman. Jill’s safe and that’s an end to it,” Cullyn looked idly out the window. “But I’ve still got to eat along the long road.”
So he did, and Nevyn felt an odd pang of sympathy for his old enemy, whose very life depended on how well he could use sword and shield. A broken bone was a hard thing to mend, even for someone with his lore, simply because splints and strips of cloth and rabbit-skin glue never really held the break perfectly immobile.
“Well,” Nevyn said at last. “At least you’ll have all winter to recover. Rhodry will certainly give you his shelter till spring.”
“True spoken. Our young lord’s got more honor than most. Will you be sheltering here, too?”
“I will.”
Nevyn felt like adding, “Cursed right I will!” He was going to be needed. Soon they would all be shut up together in a stormy Eldidd winter, and he doubted if Jill and Rhodry would be able to hide their love affair. After all, they were remembering a passion that they’d shared life after life, the memory close to the surface of their minds, where they’d merely found it but thought it new. Even without a shield, Cullyn would be a very hard man for Rhodry to best, especially when Eldidd law gave a father every right to kill the man who dishonored his daughter.
The army stayed in Dun Bruddlyn for some days to bury the dead and let the wounded rest before the long journey home. Jill was pleased when out of respect for the dweomer, Rhodry had his men put Loddlaen in a proper grave rather than throwing him in the trench with