Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [103]
While he read the letter, Laligga watched with eyes that revealed far too much fear to be becoming.
“Well,” Ogretoryc said at last, “this should put a stop to these rumors that we had him murdered on the road. I fear I forget myself, good dame, but my heart has been heavy this past few weeks.”
“Of course, Your Highness. Doubtless concern for your father’s life was hard to bear.”
“It was.” The way he spoke convinced her of his sincerity, as did the disdainful way he threw the letter in his wife’s lap.
With a toss of her head Laligga picked up the letter and read it. Primilla could see the currents in her aura, where fear and suspicion whirled around it like demons.
“And is my lady satisfied?” Ogretoryc spit out.
“And is my lord thinking that I would be anything else?”
When their eyes locked, Primilla turned away and busied herself with admiring a floral arrangement. After a moment Ogretoryc broke away with a small snarl under his breath.
“Allow me to escort you to the door, good dame,” he said. “You have my thanks for bringing me the letter.”
The prince didn’t speak again until they were well out of the princess’s hearing.
“Can you tell me where Mael is?” he said.
“In Cannobaen, Your Highness.”
“I thought he might be, but, here, don’t tell another soul until I have things arranged. My beloved wife can just stew over it a little longer.”
Every morning Mael and Gavra went for a long walk along the cliffs and looked at the ocean. Since memories of Cannobaen had haunted his imprisonment, it still seemed unbelievable that he was really there, feeling the sun warm on his back and breathing in the sharp, clean smell of the sea. Often in the afternoon he would climb the tower and sit by the ashes of the beacon as he kept watch on the road. As time slipped past, he began to wonder how many days of contentment were left to him. Every day without an answer from Abernaudd was an evil omen of court intrigue.
Yet when the answer did come, he was taken by surprise. He was in his chamber, using a stylus to rule lines onto parchment, when Avascaen’s son Maryl burst in.
“Your Highness, there’s twenty-five men at our gates, and your son with them.”
Hardly thinking, Mael grabbed his tiny penknife for a weapon and ran outside, but the men were dismounting in a friendly sort of confusion. Mael had no trouble picking out the prince in the bustle, simply because his son strikingly resembled him. Smiling, Ogretoryc strode over and held out his hand.
“It gladdens my heart to see you, Father. All my life I’ve heard tales about you, and now at last we meet.”
“And so we do.” Mael took the offered hand.
“Your letter ached my heart. You’ve got nothing to fear, I swear it.”
“Then the court must have changed since last I rode there.”
“I’ve had plenty of impious advice, if that’s what you mean, but I’ll kill any man who raises his hand against you.”
He spoke so sincerely that Mael nearly wept with relief.
“Then you have my thanks.”
Ogretoryc turned, looking up at the broch and the tower.
“I’ve never been here before, you know. When I was a child, Mother never visited it, because thinking of how much you loved this place made her weep. When I was grown, I was off at war much of the time. It’s yours again. I’ve made it over to you, and the king’s most graciously bestowed a title with it. I’ve got the letters patent in my saddlebags.”
“By the gods! That was generous of you.”
He shrugged, still looking away.
“There’s one thing I’ve got to say,” Ogretoryc went on. “Some years ago, when they sent the letter of disclaimance, everyone was sure Glyn would hang you. I would have begged the king not to send the letter, but I was away from court.” At last he looked at Mael. “My wife arranged for me to be away from court during the councils when the king made his decision. I found that out much later.”
“Well, I wouldn’t ache your heart over it overmuch. I doubt me if the king would have listened to your plea. But I’ll ask you a favor, that I never have to meet your lady.”
“I’m putting her aside.