Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [69]
“Well, here, Cadda’s mother is a good sort, and she trusted her daughter to my care. If you want to do a bard a favor, have a word with this falcon, will you? Tell him to course for another field mouse.”
“What man wouldn’t do a bard a favor? Done.”
With this tedious matter disposed of, Gweran went back to the tower. His mind was running to thoughts of cattle raids. He could piece a song easily out of bits of standard praise lines and other songs. Just mention everyone’s name, he reminded himself, none of these drunken louts know one song from another, anyway.
Early in the morning, while it was still halfway cool, Tanyc fetched his saddle, a rag, and a bit of saddle soap from the tack room and took them outside to a shady spot by the well. He drew himself a bucket of water, then sat down to clean his tack. Although some of the other riders were gathering in the tack room to do the same thing, he preferred to be alone, where it was quiet. He was always painfully aware that he was the new man in the warband, still on trial and working his way in. He was just working the soap up into a lather when Doryn came strolling over and hunkered down in front of him.
“Wanted a word with you, lad,” Doryn said.
“Of course, captain, is there trouble?”
“Not yet, and there doesn’t have to be. What do you think of the bard’s little servant lass? Our Gweran doesn’t like the way you’ve been hanging around her.”
“She’s hanging around me, captain. She’s a stupid little bitch, as far as I’m concerned.”
Doryn considered this in his slow way. Although he was telling the sincere truth, Tanyc expected to be disbelieved, simply because no one ever trusted him.
“Surprised to hear you say that,” Doryn said. “I was afraid you’d lain her down in the straw already. She seems to want it bad enough.”
“What honor she has is safe from me. She gets on my nerves. Babbles all the time.”
“Well, a man could keep her too busy to talk.”
“No doubt. You bed her if you want her.”
With a shrug, Doryn got up, setting his hands on his hips and looking over the saddle.
“Well and good. Then you won’t have any trouble doing what the bard wants and leaving her alone.”
“None at all, I swear it.”
Satisfied, Doryn walked off toward the barracks. Tanyc went back to soaping his saddle leather. Do what the bard wants, he thought, that stuffy little bastard of a nightingale, prattling all the time. He was tempted to meddle with Cadda just on the principle of the thing now, but he had already nocked his arrow for more dangerous game. He worked slowly, taking his time, and keeping a constant watch for the bard’s woman. Usually she came down with her lads to let them see the horses.
Tanyc’s patience was rewarded in a few minutes, when Lyssa came along with the boys. As they went into the stable, Tanyc sat back on his heels and watched her. There was just something about Lyssa, a soft sway of her hips when she walked, the way she had of smiling while she tossed her head, those eyes of hers that promised a very different kind of thing in bed than a scared young lass could offer. Watching her was as warm and pleasant as the sun on his back. He wondered if she were bored with her stuffy older man. What the bard wants, indeed, Tanyc thought, we’ll just see about that.
At noon, Tanyc made a point of watching Lyssa as she ate with her husband. The bard and his family, the chamberlain and his, had a privileged table next to Lord Maroic’s by the hearth of honor. Tanyc took a place at one of the rider’s tables where he could see her easily. While she ate, Lyssa seemed far more concerned with her children than her husband, who seemed lost in one of his usual fogs somewhere, idly nibbling bread and looking across the room. It was such a good sign that Tanyc began considering ways to get a word alone with Lyssa. One of the other riders elbowed him in the ribs.
“What’s all this?” Gennyn said. “Looks to me like you