Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [146]
“I will, good herbman. Ye gods, what a close call!”
Since he wasn’t dying after all, Ogwern got out of bed and insisted on giving Nevyn a copper piece for the consultation.
“It’s a pity in a way that I’m not ill,” he said gloomily. “Now I’ll have to face the beastly gwerbret this afternoon. Now, listen, Jill, say as little as possible. Stick to the tale about being only my bodyguard and leave the rest to me.”
“We spent hours on this story,” Bocc put in. “It’s a beauty, it is.”
When they left, Nevyn insisted on going to the temple of Bel down by the river, so that he could put Ogwern’s stolen coin into the cauldron of donations for the poor. As they walked along, Jill kept nervously looking around, half expecting that enemies would spring out of the walls.
“Nevyn, how did the dead man’s shade get that poison into Ogwern’s ale?”
“What? Oh, here, I can lie just as well as a silver dagger if you believed all that nonsense. I just made up the medical lore on the spot to ease Ogwern’s mind. He needs to be on his guard, but I couldn’t tell him the truth, because he wouldn’t have believed it.”
“You mean it’s not a real poison?”
“It’s not. The name’s in the ancient Rhwman tongue, and it means ‘emerald-colored little torment for fat thieves.’”
“Then what did happen?”
Nevyn glanced around at the riverbank. Down by the water’s edge were a couple of boys, guarding the cows that grazed there. Otherwise they were alone on the common.
“The dead man was working on Ogwern’s mind the way he tried to work on yours,” Nevyn said. “I doubt if he would have driven you to suicide, because if he had, Blaen would have taken your effects into custody, and then they wouldn’t have had a chance to get the opal. But he did want to torment you, to make you suffer. Since there’s somewhat of a link between us, I could set seals over you from a distance, but there was naught I could do for our poor thief until I got here. I’ll make sure he has a peaceful night tonight.”
“But what about the chickens? It sounds so stupid, talking about chicken blood.”
“Not at all. Freshly spilled blood gives off a certain substance that the shade needed. He could have fed off that substance to strengthen himself.”
Jill felt so ill that it must have shown on her face, because Nevyn laid a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“Do you see why I glossed the matter over for Ogwern with a babble of comforting words? Ah, ye gods! Never did I wish such evil things to come upon you. I’ve tried to leave you alone to work out your Wyrd in your own way, but now your Wyrd seems to have driven you right into danger.”
“So it seems. Was it truly my Wyrd that brought me here?”
“Let’s put it this way—it was sheer chance that brought you to that dead horse in the Auddglyn, but it was your Wyrd that showed you the gem in the grass. If the Wildfolk didn’t trust you, you never would have seen it. Now, let’s get back to the dun. I’m not going to say one word more out here in public.”
It was about two hours after noon when Rhodry finally reached the south gate of Dun Hiraedd. He dismounted, then led his two horses through a small crowd of farmers, carrying produce and chickens to the daily market. Lounging just inside the gate were a pair of city guards. As he passed by, he noticed one mutter something to the other; then they stepped forward and blocked his way. Out of the shadow of the wall stepped two more; one caught the horses’ reins, the other his sword arm.
“Silver dagger, are you? No trouble, now, lad, but you’re coming with us.”
“What in the hells is this?”
“His grace’s orders, that’s what. ‘Keep watch for a silver dagger who looks like an Eldidd man and bring him long.’ We’ve had enough trouble in town lately from your kind.”
“What’s Jill done?”
“Oh, you know her, do you?” the first guard said with an unpleasant grin. “She seems to have somewhat to do with a man who got himself killed, that’s what. His grace should be holding