Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [85]
Mercifully, they’d taken Tanyc’s body down from the wall by the time Nevyn arrived. The servant who took his horse told him that since the priests refused to say last rites over a hanged man, Tanyc was already buried in an unmarked grave behind the dun. Nevyn sought out Gweran, whom he found up in his chamber alone.
“The women are taking the lads for a long walk,” Gweran said. “They’re all upset over this trouble.”
“No doubt. I take it Tanyc took your warning a bit much to heart.”
Gweran merely smiled.
“Now, here!” Nevyn snarled. “Why didn’t you just have a word with Lord Maroic?”
“Because I wanted Tanyc dead. Ye gods, did you ever doubt otherwise?”
Nevyn let out his breath in an explosive little puff.
“You’re a clever little murderer. Fit for one of your own ballads.”
“My thanks. Are you going to tell Maroic?”
“And do you think he’d believe a word of what I said? But it’s your Wyrd, my friend, and truly, you’ll pay for this someday.”
“Where? In the shadowy Otherlands?”
Gweran smiled so smugly that Nevyn felt like slapping him. Here Gweran had been given a chance to free himself from the tangled Wyrd that he shared with Gerraent—he could have let the past slip and honorably used the laws to send his enemy far away from his woman. Instead, he’d used the law like a sword.
“Sooner or later,” Nevyn said, “this murder will come round to you again.”
“Will it, now? I’ll take that chance.”
Nevyn’s mouth ached from wanting to tell him the truth that he was forbidden to tell unasked: in this life, you may be safe enough, but in your next, or the next after that, sooner or later, this blood will fall on your head, you’ll still be bound to Gerraent by a chain of blood. And suddenly Nevyn was afraid: would he still be bound to them, too, simply because he might have seen Gweran’s mind and prevented the murder?
It was two days before Nevyn saw Lyssa. When he brought Aderyn back to the dun, she met them at the gates and sent the boy off with Cadda. Leading his horse, Nevyn strolled with her down the grassy hill. In the strong sunlight she was pale and haggard from sleepless nights.
“I want to tell you that Gweran’s decided to apprentice Addo to you,” Lyssa said. “You’ll need to discuss details, but the matter’s settled. Once Gwerro makes up his mind, it’s done.”
“He’s a stubborn man, truly.”
When Lyssa winced, he realized that she knew perfectly well what had happened.
“Forgive an old man’s bluntness.”
“No need for apologies. Ah, ye gods, it aches my heart, but what can I say? Gwerro only did it to protect me.”
“Well, true spoken. No man in the warband will be stupid enough to trouble you after this.”
Lyssa nodded, looking away to the distant view, where the Nerr sparkled in the afternoon haze.
“He’s a good man, my husband.”
Nevyn sighed, thinking that she had to believe it.
“I know how lucky I am,” she went on. “It aches my heart sometimes, thinking that I was lucky to pick him.”
“What? It should gladden your heart.”
“All men would think so, truly. But ye gods, it sickened me, this whole thing! There I was, hiding in my chamber like a scared infant, and all the while thinking I was lucky that my man believed the truth, lucky that I had a good man to protect me.” Her eyes snapping, Lyssa turned to face him. “I’m sick to my heart of depending on luck. I wish I had a man’s power, and then luck could go back to the Lord of Hell.”
“Hold your tongue! That sort of wish has a way of turning dangerous.”
With a little shrug, Lyssa went back to watching the view, as if she were seeing a distant future there.
ELDIDD, 1062
The dweomer is a vast wilderness crossed by a few safe roads. To either side of the road lies uncharted country, filled with wild beasts, chasms, and swamps, dangers that