Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [188]
When they went down to the great hall for dinner, Jill was relieved to find that they wouldn’t be eating at Rhys’s table. Where an ordinary dun only had one honor table, Aberwyn’s hall had six, one for the gwerbret and his family, the others for guests and the noble-born officials of his court. Jill and Dannyan sat with the seneschal, the equerry, the bard, and their wives. From where she was seated, Jill could just see Rhodry, seated at his brother’s left. Although they had the same coloring and a certain shared look to their jaw that they’d inherited from Lovyan, they were so different that Jill found it hard to believe they were brothers. Doubtless it was Rhodry’s elven blood that made his face so chiseled and delicate that, in comparison, Rhys looked coarse. Yet the gwerbret was still a good-looking man in his way, not the fiend that Jill had been picturing.
The meal was elaborate, with a course of pickled vegetables arranged in patterns on little plates, a course of lark pies and one of fruit preceding the roast pork. Jill paid strict attention to her manners and spoke to no one until at last the bard’s wife, a round-faced little blonde named Camma, turned to her with cool, appraising eyes.
“This must be your first time at court,” Camma said.
“It is, truly. It’s rather splendid.”
“Indeed. Was your father one of our country lords?”
Jill was taken utterly aback. Dannyan leaned over with a limpid smile for Camma that seemed to be masking the word “bitch.”
“Jill is a very important member of Tieryn Lovyan’s retinue.” Dannyan allowed herself a glance at Rhodry. “Very important.”
“I see.” Camma gave Jill a warm smile. “Well, you must allow me to entertain you in my chambers sometime.”
“My thanks. I shall have to see how much leisure my duties to Her Grace allow.”
Dannyan gave Jill a small nod of approval. Jill picked at her food and decided that she was no longer hungry. Although she thought of herself as a falcon, she felt as if she were dining with eagles, who might turn on her at any moment. She found herself watching Rhodry, who was eating fast and silently. Finally he rose, looked her way with a toss of his head, and strode out of the hall. Flustered, Jill turned to Dannyan.
“You can follow in a little bit,” Dannyan whispered.
Jill dutifully sipped her wine and made small talk for some minutes, then excused herself and hurried away from table. She found a page who knew where Rhodry was quartered and followed him up the spiral staircase and through the confused corridors of the joined broches for what seemed an embarrassingly long way before he pointed out Rhodry’s door with a sly and knowing smile. Jill hurried in and frankly slammed the door behind her. The tiny chamber was sparsely furnished with what looked like castoffs from grander chambers elsewhere. Its one window looked directly down on the kitchen hut, and the smell of grease hung in the air. His boots and belt already off, Rhodry was lounging on the lumpy bed.
“Did Rhys say anything about the rebellion?”
“Naught. Not one cursed word. We’ll have the formal discussion tomorrow morn, says he, the piss-proud little bastard, as if I was a criminal, hauled up before him for stealing horses. I don’t want to talk about it, my love. I want to get you into this bed and keep you here until you beg for mercy.”
“Indeed?” Jill began to untie her kirtle. “Then you’ll have a long night of it.”
It was just at dawn that Nevyn finally received concrete news of the dark dweomermaster. Down in Cerrmor lived a woman named Nesta. Although her neighbors thought of her only as the somewhat eccentric widow of a rich merchant, she had studied the dweomer for over forty years—and other things as well. Her husband’s long years of trading in Bardek spices had given her a great deal of information about other, less savory kinds of trade with that far-off land. When she contacted him that morning, her round little face was troubled under her neat black