Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [160]
Rhodry was staring at the closed door, his mouth set tight and a little twisted, as if he’d eaten something bitter.
“What’s wrong, my love?’ she said.
“That man’s a thief, and so’s Ogwern.”
“Oh, come now, my innocent one, did you only just realize it?”
“Don’t tease, curse it! He’s given us the help we need, and I should be rewarding him, but I’m honor bound to turn him over to Blaen.”
“What! You can’t!”
“Now, here, lad,” Nevyn broke in. “I despise thieves myself, but I’ve known about Ogwern for years and haven’t given evidence. Do you know why? Because as thieves go, he’s very small beer indeed. He keeps his lads in line, he never murders, and he does his best to prevent murder. With him gone who knows what vicious sort might come to power?”
“That’s all well and good,” Rhodry said. “But here I am, my cousin’s guest, when by rights he should have turned me out on the road. I can’t hold my tongue and make a mockery of his justice.”
“You dolt!” Jill felt like grabbing and shaking him. “Why are you making a fuss over this now? There’s dark dweomer all around us.”
“That’s got naught to do with it. It’s the honor of the thing.”
“Now, now.” Nevyn laid a paternal hand on Rhodry’s shoulder. “I know it’s a hard road you’ve got to ride, lad, choosing between two dishonors. Just look at me, will you? There, my thanks. Now, you’re not going to say a word to Blaen about the thieves. You’ve forgotten already, haven’t you? Young Bocc isn’t a thief, and neither is Ogwern. They just owe me a few favors; that’s why they helped us. You’ll remember that, lad.”
When Nevyn took his hand away, Rhodry blinked like a man walking out of a dark room into strong sunlight.
“Who was that fellow, anyway? A pot boy down in Ogwern’s inn?”
“His son, actually,” Nevyn said. “You know I’m always willing to heal the poor for free.”
“True, but it was good of him to run that risk, anyway. I’ll make sure Blaen gives him a reward.”
It took all of Jill’s will to keep a normal expression on her face.
“Rhodry, would you go fetch Blaen up here?” Nevyn went on. “I think we’ll be taking him up on his offer of the warband after all.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, Jill turned to Nevyn.
“Here!” she burst out. “You told me that ensorcelling someone is a wrong thing.”
“It is, but not when it’s the only way to save someone’s life. When the word got out that Rhodry had turned Ogwern over to the gwerbret, how long do you think your lad would have lived?”
“Not very. I was going to use that argument next, truly. The thieves wouldn’t think of him as an honor-bound man.”
“Exactly. He would have been only a traitorous silver dagger to them. You know, child, I’m very glad I haven’t swore a vow that I’d never lie. Many dweomerfolk do, and it gains you the favor of the Lords of Wyrd, but I prefer to be a little more flexible about such matters.”
He looked so sly that she had to laugh.
“That’s a better mood,” he said. “Now, would you stand guard at the door? I’ve got to scry.”
After the Wildfolk lit the firewood in the hearth, Nevyn knelt down and stared into the leaping flames. Since he knew the settled parts of Cwm Pecl quite well, he’d recognized the farm in question from Bocc’s description. In fact, many years ago he’d ridden there to treat a sick child. When he called up the memory of following the path on a sunny afternoon, immediately the image in the flames changed to the path as it looked now in the darkening light outside. In vision he followed the road up to the spot where the farm should have stood. Nothing was there but wild meadow, not a house, not a wall, not even a cow grazing nearby. So Alastyr had set an astral seal over it. With a snap of his fingers he put out the fire.
“Did you see them?” Jill said.
“I didn’t—which means they’re there. Oh, Alastyr can hide from me, sure enough, but he forgets what it means to make enemies of men who trust their eyes, not dweomer.” He smiled gently. “He’s about to remember.”
Now that his mind was made up, Alastyr felt much calmer. He strode