Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [201]
Idly he pulled the dagger from his belt to look at Cullyn’s device. At his touch the blade ran with silvery light. He sheathed it fast and glanced around, but fortunately no one had noticed. You’re worse than just an exile, Rhodry told himself, you’re half an elf, too. All at once he felt dizzy, just from seeing that he no longer fit anywhere in his world, not among the Westfolk, not among men, a half-breed with no clan, no rank, no place to call home, nothing but the silver dagger to give him the identity he’d always taken for granted. He laid his hand on the dagger’s hilt and understood why, scum of the kingdom that they were, silver daggers clung to their name and their band. He got up and dipped himself out another tankard, drank it fast, and went out to the hayloft over the stable. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted simply to go to sleep and wipe the world away.
Yet he had a restless night of it, because he was cold. He had no blankets, he was too proud to ask Gadd for some, and the chill autumn night had driven away the false summer warmth of the day. He wrapped himself in his cloak, burrowed into the straw like a dog in a kennel, but every time he drowsed off, he would wake shivering. Finally he sat up to ease the cramps in his back and wondered if he could stand the stink of his saddle blanket. It was small, but it would be something.
Then he heard a horse trotting into the stableyard. Since it was highly unusual for anyone to travel at night, he hoped that this traveler was Cullyn’s messenger, sent to him as fast as possible to make sure that Rhys never knew. His mind mostly on warm blankets, Rhodry climbed down the ladder and hurried out into the moonlight. He recognized the horse before he did the rider, who was just dismounting. Sunrise tossed a weary head and nickered in greeting.
“There you are, my love,” Jill said. “I’ve got your sword. Da and Lord Sligyn bribed the guards, and we nipped it out right under your stinking brothers nose.”
In sheer disbelief, Rhodry stood stock-still. He was sure that he was having a desperate dream and nothing more until Jill walked over and laid her hands on his chest. They were solid and warm.
“Oh, here! Did you think I’d let you go into exile and not follow?”
“I did. Forgive me. You’d even leave your father for me?”
“I would.” She went tense, and he could hear tears under her words. “But it’s hard. I won’t lie and say otherwise. But I had to go, and oh, ye gods, Rhoddo, I love you so much.”
Rhodry threw his arms around her and kissed her. Tight in each other’s arms, they laughed and wept by turns until a grumbling Gadd ran out to see who was making all that noise in his stableyard.
Since Lord Petyn, the cousin who was sheltering Lovyan’s men, paid direct fealty to Gwerbret Rhys, there was no doubt that it was awkward for him to have the Clw Coc warband under his roof. Just at dawn, Cullyn woke the men, got them fed, and told them to start saddling their horses so that they could meet their lady on the road and spare Petyn the further sight of them. He was just finishing with his own horse when a worried-looking Nevyn jogged over to him.
“Cullyn, where’s Jill? I can’t find her anywhere.”
“No doubt. She rode out last night to follow her Rhodry.”
Nevyn froze, staring at him openmouthed.
“You let her go?” the old man said at last.
“And what choice did I have? She could have sneaked off like a thief, but she paid me the honor of coming to me and telling me the truth.” Afraid that he would weep, he busied himself with adjusting the bridle, which needed no adjustment. “Besides, the