Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [149]
“And who, good sorcerer, are these enemies?”
“Men who follow the dark dweomer, of course. You’ll notice, Your Grace, that I keep saying ‘our’ enemies. You see, this gem belongs to the High King himself, and the dark dweomer wants it to work him and the kingdom harm.”
Blaen and Rhodry swore aloud in rage. Though one was the honored lord, and the other the dishonored exile, they’d both sworn oaths of personal fealty to their liege.
“The king lives in the middle of the best fortress in all Deverry,” Blaen snapped. “How could they steal from him?”
“With great difficulty. I suspect that they’ve been plotting this for a very long time indeed. The opal is one of the greatest dweomer-gems the world has ever seen. About a hundred years ago a certain dweomerman shaped it and asked spirits to inhabit it, then gave it to the royal line.” Nevyn sighed a little, just remembering the long hours it had taken him to polish and grind the thing into a perfect sphere. “I’m forbidden to tell you all its powers, as I’m sure you’ll understand. To keep it safe, various dweomermen are appointed as its guardians. When one of us dies, another takes its place. It’s now my turn to hold that post.” There he almost slipped and said, “my turn again.” “The secret of the gem is passed down from king to Marked Prince, and so the kings know enough to guard it well. They keep it within their own chambers, not the royal treasury. No thief would have a chance to bribe outright the loyal men and women who have access to the royal apartments, of course. There are, however, more ways to work on a man’s mind than gold. Here, Your Grace, and Rhodry, too, did you ever meet a man named Camdel at court?”
“I did,” Blaen said. “The Master of the King’s Bath, wasn’t he? A proud sort of fellow, as I remember, but the queen seemed to favor him for his well-spoken ways.”
“He was an arrogant bastard,” Rhodry broke in. “I won a mock combat from him once, and he sulked all day.”
“That’s the man,” Nevyn said. “He’s the younger son of the gwerbret of Blaeddbyr. I’m afraid his arrogance was only one of his faults, but still, he doesn’t deserve what’s happened to him. The dark dweomermen have taken him over, mind and soul, and they’ve been using him like a farmer uses a mattock—to dig out a stone.”
“What?” Blaen said. “I can’t imagine Camdel stealing from his liege!”
“Of his own will he never would have, Your Grace. Now, I still don’t know how the dark dweomermen got in touch with him. I have a friend who’s up in Dun Deverry right now trying to find out. But once they did get a hold over him, Camdel had no control over his own actions, none. I’ll wager that the last few months have all seemed like a dream to him, one long, confused waking dream that ended in a nightmare.”
“So,” Blaen said, and there was a growl in his voice, “my sword and my warband are at your disposal, good sorcerer. Do you know where these men are?”
“I don’t, and here, Your Grace, you see the limits of the dweomer. I can keep these poisonous dolts from scrying me out, but alas, they can do the same to me.”
Blaen shuddered at all this talk of scrying and dweomer. Although Nevyn disliked telling so many secrets, he truly had no choice. For all he knew, he might need to take Blaen up on his offer of the warband.
“Until this morning,” Nevyn went on, “they couldn’t have been more than a day’s ride from Dun Hiraedd, but for all I know, they may be fleeing for their lives. If I catch them, I’m going to wipe them off the face of the earth for this.”
“Well,” said Blaen, thinking, “if we split the warband into squads, we can start scouring the countryside. Some farmer or suchlike must have noticed if peculiar strangers have been riding around the rhan.”
“It may come to that, Your Grace, but I’d like to hold off