Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [150]
Blaen nodded. Nevyn himself was more worried than he wanted to show. Although he could ask the Wildfolk to find the dark master, to do so would expose them to the chance of grave harm. Likewise, he could go out into the etheric in the body of light, but to do so meant risking open battle with his enemies. From piecing together what Jill had told him, he could guess that this dark master had apprentices with him; he simply didn’t know how many. If he should be slain in an astral battle, then Jill and Rhodry would be defenseless against the dark ones, who would doubtless take a horrifying revenge. Although he had called upon other dweomermen for aid, it was going to take days for the nearest one to reach him. By then Camdel might well be dead.
“Ah, well,” Nevyn said at last. “This cursed mess is just like a game of gwiddbwcl, Your Grace. They have Camdel, their king’s peg, and they’re trying to move him off the board while we place our men and try to stop them. Unfortunately, I’m not sure if the next move is ours or theirs. Jill, come have a private talk with me. I want to hear every detail of the days you spent alone, and there’s no need to bore his grace and Rhodry with it.”
Obediently she rose, looking at him in a desperate hope that he would keep her safe. Deep in his heart, he prayed that he could.
As the chamber door closed behind Jill and Nevyn, Blaen drained the rest of the mead in his goblet in one long swallow, and Rhodry had a good slug of his, too. For a moment they looked at each other in an understanding that had no need for words. Rhodry knew perfectly well that they were both terrified. At last Blaen sighed.
“You’re filthy, silver dagger. Let’s have the pages draw you a bath. I could use some more mead, too.”
“You’ve had enough drink for one afternoon.”
Briefly Blaen looked furious; then he shrugged.
“So I have. Let’s go get you that bath.”
While Rhodry bathed in the elegant chamber he would share with Jill, Blaen perched on the edge of the bed and handed him the soap like a page. As he splashed around in the wooden tub, Rhodry wished that he could wash all this talk of dweomer away as easily as the dirt from the road.
“Are you thinking that I’ve got cursed strange taste in women?” Rhodry said at last.
“You always did. But truly, Gilyan suits you well enough, and the life you’re leading. It aches my heart to see that silver dagger in your belt.”
“It’s better than starving on the roads. There wasn’t a cursed lot else I could do.”
“True spoken. I talked with your most honored mother the last time I was at court. She asked me to urge Rhys to recall you, but he wouldn’t listen to a blasted word I said.”
“Don’t waste your breath again. He always wanted me gone, and like a dolt, I gave him his chance.”
Rhodry got out of the tub and took the towel Blaen handed him.
“I have no formal alliance with Aberwyn,” Blaen said. “I can offer you a place here with me. You could marry your Jill and be my equerry or suchlike. If Rhys doesn’t like it, what’s he going to do? He’s too cursed far away to start a war with me.”
“My thanks, but when I took this dagger, I swore I’d carry it proudly. I may be an exile, but I’d die rather than be an oath breaker, too.”
Blaen raised one quizzical eyebrow.
“Ah, by a pig’s cock,” Rhodry sighed. “The truth is, I think it’d be worse, living on your charity, watching the honored guests sneering at Aberwyn’s dishonored brother. I’d rather ride the long road than that.”
Blaen handed him his brigga.
“Well, I’d feel the same myself,” he said. “But you’re always welcome here.”
Rhodry said nothing, out of fear that he’d weep and shame himself. While he dressed, Blaen pulled the silver dagger and fiddled with it, hefting it, testing the edge with his thumb.