Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [101]
“What’s all this?” Nevyn said.
“Well, I’m afraid I’ve come with some possibly ominous news.”
“Indeed?” Mael broke in. “Is the court going to want me poisoned?”
“I see the philosopher remembers his old life as a prince very well indeed,” Primilla said. “But I’m not sure if he’s in any true danger. It’s merely that it’s never wise to take unnecessary chances. We came to escort you to a safe place until I’m quite sure we can meet the court on our terms, not theirs.”
“My thanks, then,” Nevyn said. “I haven’t saved the lad’s life from the rope only to lose it to a vial of poison.”
“Don’t worry. We’re going to slip through the woods as sly as foxes, and then—” She paused for a smile. “And then hole up like badgers.”
All week, since the farmers had been bringing in wagonloads of firewood to pay their spring taxes to the Cannobaen light, Avascaen was up and around long before sunset, helping them unload the wood and stack it in the long sheds. On that particular day, when he saw dust coming down the road, he assumed that another wagonload was on the way.
“Here come the lads,” he told Egamyn. “Run and see which shed’s got the most room left.”
With a sigh for the tedium of it all, Egamyn strolled slowly away while Avascaen swung the creaking, complaining gates open. With his hand still on the rusty bar, he froze and stared at the party in the road. Riders—pack mules—that strange woman with the blue hands—and behind them—it couldn’t be—it had to be, gray hair or not. With a shout bordering on a sob, Avascaen raced out into the road to welcome Prince Mael home. When he caught the prince’s stirrup as a sign of fealty, Mael bowed to him from the saddle.
“Look at us, Avascaen! When I rode away, we were both lads, and now we’re all gray and grizzled.”
“So we are, my prince, but the sight of you gladdens my heart, anyway.”
“And it gladdens mine to see you. Will you shelter us?”
“What? Of course, Your Highness. Why, you’ve come at the perfect time. Scwna’s just been airing out your chambers, you see, like she does every spring, so they’ll be nice and clean for you.”
“Has she, now? Every spring?”
“Every spring. We’re like badgers, my prince. We hold on.”
Mael swung down from his horse, grabbed Avascaen’s hand, and shook it hard. When he saw the tears in the prince’s eyes, Avascaen began to feel a bit rocky himself.
“I’m not a prince anymore,” Mael said. “And I count myself honored to call you friend. Here, I’ve got my new wife and son with me, and let’s pray that this time I’m home to stay.”
As the party filed into the ward, Egamyn, Maryl, and Scwna ran out of the broch to greet them. Avascaen gave Egamyn a smug smile.
“And didn’t I tell you he’d be back?”
He had the satisfaction of seeing his bigmouthed son speechless.
After a companionable afternoon and celebratory dinner, Avascaen went out to tend the light. Just as the sky was fading to a pearly gray, he struck sparks from his steel, set the dry tinder burning, then blew on it until the sparks licked round the kindling. He added logs until, at last, the beacon burned strong and sent its warning out to sea. He walked to the edge and looked at the broch, the windows cheerful with lantern light. The prince was home. I didn’t forget him and he didn’t forget me, he thought, just like badgers, both of us. The world was a satisfying place, filled with justice. Later, when the full moon was at its zenith, Mael came up to the tower. Panting, out of breath, the prince leaned against the guardrail.
“You must have cursed strong legs,” Mael said.
“Oh, you get used to it after a bit.”
They leaned side by side over the rail and looked at the sea, the waves foaming silver in the moonlight as they crashed onto