Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [202]
“Doubtless not, truly. You know, my friend, you’re a cursed strong man.”
“I’m not, just one who knows enough to send his weakness far away from him.”
When he risked a look, he found the old man smiling in a friendly kind of disbelief. He was surprised at how much having Nevyn’s honor meant to him.
“I’ve had one of the lads ready your horse. We’ll be riding soon.”
“My thanks, but would you mind if I rode after Jill? I want to say farewell to her.”
“Mind? Not in the least, and besides, it’s not for me to say anymore what she does or doesn’t do.”
Cullyn escorted Nevyn down to the gates and held the bridle of his horse while the old man swung into the saddle.
“Tell Lady Lovyan that I’ll return to Dun Gwerbyn soon,” Nevyn said. “If naught else, I have to claim my mule and my herbs.”
“Done, then. I’ll look forward to seeing you there.”
“Will you, now?” Nevyn shot him another smile. “And I’ll look forward to seeing you. Do you have any message for your silver dagger of a daughter?”
“Naught. I told her I love her last night. There’s naught else to be said.”
Cullyn leaned back against the wall and watched him ride off into the brightening dawn. He felt himself trembling like a beggar in the snow.
“Jill. Oh, ye gods, Jill, Jill, Jill.”
Yet now she would never learn of his shame, never have to know that he’d been tempted to dishonor them both. Cullyn was smiling as he walked back into the ward, where his men were waiting for him.
Since Nevyn often stayed in the Gray Goat when he was doctoring the local farmers, Gadd knew him well. When he rode up that evening, Gadd waddled out, all smiles and bows, to take his horse for him.
“What? No mule? You haven’t given up herbcraft, have you?”
“I haven’t. I’m just here to look for someone—a young silver dagger and Cullyn of Cerrmor’s lass. Which way did they ride when they left you?”
“Left me? Hah! They’ve been up in my hayloft all day, they have. Ah, young lads! A man just doesn’t have that kind of stamina when he gets on in years.” Gadd shook his head mournfully. “It’s a cursed good thing that custom’s slow this time of year.”
“I see your point, truly. Well, I’ll wait in the tavern until they get hungry enough to come down.”
Nevyn was just settling down to a bowl of Gadd’s good stew when Jill walked into the smoky firelight of the tavern. As tense as a hunted deer, she paused just inside the door and watched him warily.
“Have you come to fetch me back? You’ll have to ensorcel me or suchlike to do it. Maybe Rhodry’s an exile and a dishonored man, but I’d follow him anywhere.”
It stabbed like fire, remembering the time when she’d said those same words about Prince Galrion. But she’s no longer Brangwen, Nevyn reminded himself, and cursed if you’re going to play Gerraent.
“I know you would, child. And it’s your choice. I only wanted to bid you farewell, but would it ache your heart if our roads crossed again? I might find myself wandering the same way you wander at times.”
“Ache my heart? What? Never! Here, what would ache my heart would be never seeing you again.”
And she ran to him and hugged him. For a moment, he stood as stiff as a swordblade with surprise; then he gave her a grandfatherly pat on the head.
“Then we’ll meet again. I’ll promise you that.”
“Splendid.”
Jill spoke so sincerely that Nevyn felt his hope flare. She liked him, she trusted him, and someday he would make her see where her true Wyrd lay. After all, by following Rhodry, she’d set herself free for the dweomer. No longer would she be caught and buried by the intrigues of a powerful court, and the dangers of an unsettled life would keep her latent talents alive. He thought of broaching the subject of her dweomer talent then and there, but the time was still unripe. She would only react with panic this soon after having seen dweomer gone mad and turned to evil ends. He would have to wait, but by letting her go, he was not losing but keeping her.
As they