Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [76]
“My lady Lovyan,” Calonderiel said with a bow. “Your Grace, tieryn of Dun Gwerbyn. We come to bring you tribute to your power and dominion.”
“My thanks, good sir. I’m most pleased to receive such a splendid gift. Come in and take the hospitality of my hall.”
Since he couldn’t refuse, Devaberiel followed. As a favor to Cullyn, Lovyan allowed him to join her and the guests at the honor table. Once they’d all been served mead, the captain told the story in detail of Rhodry’s exile. Although Calonderiel and Jennantar constantly interrupted to ask questions, Devaberiel found it hard to listen. He kept cursing himself for coming and causing such pain to both himself and to the woman he once had loved. When the tale was finished, everyone drank in silence for a moment. Devaberiel risked another glance at Lovyan only to find her looking at him. When their eyes met, for a moment her composure wavered, her eyes so haunted, her mouth so tense, that he feared she would weep. Then she looked away, and the moment passed.
“Well, good men of the Westfolk,” she said, “will you shelter in my dun awhile?”
“My humble thanks for the honor, Your Grace,” Devaberiel said. “But my folk are used to wandering through grassland and forest. It makes us uneasy to be within stone walls. Would it displease Your Grace if we camped outside the town tonight, and then went on our way?”
“How can I refuse a favor to men whove just brought me such a splendid gift? Just two miles north I have a game preserve. I’ll give you a token for my forester, and you may camp there for as long as you please.”
And her eyes thanked him for taking himself away.
Yet they had a chance for a few private words while the servants brought the elves’ riding mounts and packhorses. Cullyn and the other two stood on the dun steps and talked among themselves with the earnestness of old comrades, but Lovyan gestured at the bard to follow her some paces away.
“Did you come here just to bring me horses?” she said.
“I didn’t. I came to see our son.”
“So. You know the truth about that, then?”
“I do. Lowa, please, forgive me. I never should have come, and I swear to you that you’ll never have to see me again.”
“It would be for the best. Rhodry must never know the truth. Do you realize that?”
“Of course. I only wanted a look at the lad.”
She smiled briefly.
“He looks much like you, but he has the raven-dark Eldidd hair. He’s a handsome lad, our Rhodry.”
He caught her hand and squeezed it, then let it go before anyone could see.
“I wonder if I’ll ever lay eyes on him,” he said. “I don’t dare ride any farther east. They haven’t learned how to ignore our eyes and ears in the rest of the kingdom.”
“True spoken. You know, I’d always heard that your folk were long-lived, but I didn’t realize how young you stayed.” Her voice caught. “Or is the tale true, and you live forever?”
“Not forever, but for a truly long time. And we do age, but not until we’re ready to die. That’s how we know it’s time to prepare for our last ride.”
“Indeed?” She looked away and unconsciously touched the wrinkles on her cheek. “Perhaps we have the best of it, then, because while we age early, we’re never burdened with knowing when we’ll die.”
He sighed, remembering his grief when his father’s hair began to turn white and his vigor fade.
“Truly,” he said, “you may have the better bargain.”
He walked quickly away, because tears were gathering in his throat.
When they rode out, Devaberiel said not a word to the others, and they allowed him his silence until they reached the hunting preserve. Lovyan’s forester