Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [30]
“That’s true enough, but this crescent embraces my whole life now. I swore to Her, and I stay faithful to Her.”
The quiet coldness in her voice left no doubts.
“I see,” he said hurriedly. “Well, far be it from me to question how a priestess has her visions. There’s somewhat else I wanted to ask you. Does your sister have a suitor that you favor for her? I’ll speak to the king on his behalf.”
“Would you? That’s an enormous favor you’re offering me.”
“What? What makes you say that?”
“Oh, come now, my lord, don’t you see what a treasure you’ve got in the eyes of the court? You’ve got more influence with the king than any man alive. If you don’t value it, it could turn into a curse.”
Dannyn merely smiled, puzzled by the urgency in her voice. He never knew what to say when women carried on about unimportant details. After a moment she shrugged.
“The suitor I favor is Lord Gwetmar of the Alder clan.”
“I’ve fought beside him, and he’s a good man. I’ll mention him to the king.”
“My thanks.”
With a little curtsy Gweniver walked away, leaving him filled with dark hiraedd for a woman he could never have.
Lord Dannyn kept his promise about speaking to the king much sooner than Gweniver had expected. That very afternoon Saddar the councillor came to her chamber with important news. As a deference to his age, she sat him down in a chair by the hearth and poured him a small serving of mead, then took the chair opposite.
“My thanks, Your Holiness,” he said in his thin, dry voice. “I wanted to tell you personally that it gladdens my heart that the Wolf clan will live.”
“And my thanks to you, good sir.”
He smiled and had a dainty sip of mead.
“Now, the king himself asked me to come speak to you,” he went on, stressing the words “the king himself.” “He has made an important decision, that Lord Gwetmar shall lay aside his allegiance to the Alder clan and marry your sister.”
“Splendid!” Gweniver pledge him with her goblet. “Now all we’ve got to do is get Macla out of the temple safely.”
“Ah, I have further news on that. The king wishes you to fetch her soon. He’ll be lending you and Gwetmar two hundred men from his personal guard to add to your warbands.”
“By the gods! Our liege is most generous.”
“So he is. Lord Dannyn will accompany you at their head.”
Saddar paused, as if expecting some momentous reaction. Gweniver cocked her head to one side and considered him.
“Ah, well,” the councillor said at last. “And what does her holiness think of Lord Dannyn, if I may ask?”
“My men tell me that he’s splendid in battle, and truly, good sir, that’s all that matters to me.”
“Indeed?”
Something about the old man’s smile made her remember the odd warning she’d received from the Goddess, but still she said nothing.
“Well,” Saddar said, “it’s not my place to question those who have sworn holy vows, my lady, but let me give you a word of advice from one whose long years at times make him frank. Lord Dannyn is a very impetuous man. I would keep my eye on him, if I were you.” He paused to finish the mead in his goblet. “Ah, it gladdens my heart to see you here, Your Holiness. No doubt your Goddess has sent you as a mark of Her favor to our king.”
“Let’s hope not. Her favor is as dark and harsh as a blooded blade.”
Saddar’s smile froze on his lips. He rose, made her a polite bow, and hurriedly took his leave.
For some time Gweniver thought over the councillor’s troubling remark about Dannyn. She wanted to turn to the Goddess and ask Her advice, but in truth, she was unsure of how to go about it. Only a few fragments of the rites of the Darkened Moon had been preserved. The temple priestesses knew some chants and rituals to be worked at the waning of the moon; odd scraps of lore about certain battlefield prayers had survived from the Dawntime; nothing more. Without a temple with mirror and altar, Gweniver simply didn’t know how to approach her Goddess. In her saddlebags she had a letter of introduction