Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [61]
“My apologies,” Nevyn said. “I was just thinking about somewhat.”
Dannyn’s eyes widened in awe.
“Not mighty spells or suchlike, my lord,” Nevyn said.
“Well and good, then.” He forced out a smile meant to be pleasant; it made Nevyn think of a wolf begging for table scraps. “Do you know where Lady Gweniver is going?”
“I don’t. I assume that she and her men are just going to exercise their horses.”
“Most like, truly.”
By then the warband was clattering out of the gates. Dannyn watched Gweniver with such intensity that Nevyn was troubled.
“Now, listen, lad,” he said. “She’s forbidden to you and to any other man as well. You should have the sense to realize that.”
Dannyn turned toward him so sharply that Nevyn ducked back, summoning the Wildfolk in case the captain tried violence, but Dannyn, oddly enough, looked more hurt than enraged. For a moment he hesitated, as if there were something he wanted to ask, then turned on his heel and walked off fast. Dolt, Nevyn thought after him. Then he put the matter out of his mind and went up to visit Prince Mael.
Up in the tower room the lad leaned on the windowsill and looked down, watching the tiny figures of the Wolf warband filing down the hill into the town.
“When I was a lad,” Mael said, “I had some toys that came all the way from Bardek, little silver horses and warriors. That warband looks just the same size from here. I used to line them up and long for the day I’d lead men to battle. Ah, ye gods! That day came and went so fast.”
“Now here, Your Highness, you might be ransomed yet.”
Mael gave him a bitter smile and flung himself into a chair by the hearth, where a small fire crackled to take off the chill. Nevyn sat down opposite and held out his hands to the warmth.
“There won’t be any more heralds till spring,” the prince said with a sigh. “A whole winter here! You know, my wife wanted to come and share my imprisonment, but Father wouldn’t let her. He’s right, I suppose. It would only give Glyn somewhat to hold over her clan.”
“You seem fond of her.”
“I am. Father arranged our match when I was ten and she was eight, and she lived with us at court while we were betrothed. It was her training, you see, for being a prince’s wife. And then we married three years ago. You get used to someone, and then you miss them. Oh, here, good sir, my apologies. I’m babbling today.”
“No apologies needed, lad.”
For a long while the prince merely stared into the fire, but at last he roused himself.
“I’ve finished that book of chronicles,” he said. “It’s passing strange! I’m going to be the best-educated prince that Eldidd ever had, and it won’t do my kingdom the least bit of good.”
“Now, now, it’s much too soon to give up hope.”
Mael swung round to face him.
“Here, good Nevyn, all the guards swear that you’re dweomer. Answer me somewhat, honestly. Will I ever leave here for anything but my hanging?”
“That hasn’t been given me to know.”
Mael nodded, then went back to staring at the fire. Nevyn had to speak to him several times before he answered, and then it was only to discuss his reading.
A silver wall, the rain swept over Dun Cerrmor. The council chamber was damp with a fine exhalation of cold from stone walls. Gweniver wrapped her plaid tightly round her as the councillors droned on. Across the table Dannyn fiddled with his dagger. The king leaned forward in his chair with an expression of such serious attention that she wondered what he was really thinking about.
“Temperance and a slow pace are always best in all things, my liege,” Saddar was saying. “And even more so in this matter of the Prince of Aberwyn. We must keep Eldidd in constant wonderment for as long as possible.”
“Just so,” Glyn said. “And most well put.”
With a little smile Saddar sat down again.
“Now, honored sirs,” the king went on. “I plan to give Lord Gwetmar of the Wolf leave from the war next summer so that he may rebuild his dun and find farmers to tend his lands. Do you