Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [91]
“I doubt that, but it would gladden his heart to dispossess me.” It was Rhodry, striding in boldly. “Her Grace is doubtless right about the coin. All that grumbling because you’re a woman never rang true.”
“Here!” Lovyan snapped. “How long have you been listening at the door?”
“Long enough.” Rhodry flashed her a grin. “I wanted to hear what you said to his lordship about my dishonor.”
“We discussed that at dinner.”
“At dinner?” Rhodry flopped into a chair. “My lady has a strong stomach.”
“Now, listen, you young cub.” Sligyn would be Rhodry’s equal till Lovyan died, and he minced no words. “You treat your lady mother with some respect while I’m around.”
“My apologies, I do but jest. But truly, Mother, I see what you mean. Rhys must be licking his chops, thinking he has a chance at what’s rightfully mine.”
“I cherish no illusions of brotherly love between the two of you, truly. But if it comes to open war, I trust Rhys will intervene.”
“No doubt, if you ask him.” Rhodry turned sullen. “But I want the chance to prove myself to these vassals of yours.”
He said it so carelessly that Lovyan was sick at heart. If things came to war, Rhodry would be cadvridoc, the war leader, delegated in her stead to lead the army. She knew him too well to hope that he would lead his men from the rear.
“I heard you tell Mother that Nowec’s gone over to the rebels,” Rhodry said to Sligyn. “I never would have thought it of him.”
“No more would I. Wretchedly strange rumors going round.”
“Dweomer again?” Rhodry said with a laugh.
“Just that.” Sligyn paused, chewing on the edge of his mustache. “Makes a man wonder, seeing Nowec break his bond this way.”
“Horseshit! Uh, my apologies, Mother. But I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Well, neither do I, of course. Eh!” Sligyn said. “But it has its effect on the men. Morale, that kind of thing. Once a rider starts thinking about dweomer, well, where’s he going to stop?”
Lovyn nodded in agreement. Since no one knew the powers of that mysterious craft—since, in truth, so few people believed that it existed—once a man started brooding on what it might or might not be able to do, there was no limit to it.
“They say it’s this councillor of Corbyn’s,” Sligyn said. “Loddlaen his name is. He’s the one that everyone thinks has the dweomer.”
“Indeed?” Rhodry sneered. “Well, I’ve met the man, and I find it hard to believe that this mincing fop has any kind of power at all. May the gods blast me if I know why Corbyn even listens to a man who stinks of perfume.”
“Its strange, all right. But isn’t that the point?”
Rhodry’s sneer disappeared.
“You know,” Lovyan broken in. “I think I should send for Nevyn.”
“What?” Rhodry said. “How do you send for no one?”
“Nevyn the old herbman, you little dolt. Don’t tease with things so serious.”
“My apologies, Mother, and send for him if you like. I know the old man amuses you, and you’ll need good company if we ride to war.”
“I will, then, if I can get him a message. He’s probably wandering the roads with his herbs, but he may be at his home.”
“You know, Your Grace,” Sligyn said, “I’ve never understood why you honor the old man so highly. He’s well spoken and all, but he’s practically one of your peasants.”
“It’s as Rhodry says. He amuses me.”
Lovyan was in no mood to explain. If the stolid Sligyn and her rake of a son were too stupid to know a man with dweomer when they saw one, she wasn’t going to waste her breath enlightening them.
Three days out of Cernmeton, the caravan of Dregydd the merchant reached an oddly named river, the Delonderiel, which flowed fast and deep between grassy banks. Near the village of Bruddlyn was a stone toll bridge, owned and maintained by the local lord. Since the caravan would have to stop soon anyway to ensure that there was enough daylight left for the horses and mules to graze, Dregydd decided to camp for the night near the village and trade for fresh food. He had a couple of packs of cheap goods for just this kind of barter, and as he told Jill, the villagers were more than willing to trade beef and bread for colored