Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [122]
“You turn up like a witch’s curse, huh, the moment there’s talk of dweomer,” Renydd said. “Where’s Rhodry? Still in the land of the living, I hope.”
“As far as I know, he is. He was gone from the dun when the siege began.” Yraen hesitated, then decided that the last thing he wanted to do was talk of dragons. “I’m assuming he’s part of some ally’s army by now.”
“Most likely. Here, have some of this pork. Once we’re on the march, who knows what we’ll be eating.”
As the evening wore on, Yraen was profoundly grateful that no one asked him much about his supposed escape through enemy lines. Whenever the question started to rise, he’d turn it aside with a few mutters about having had a silver dagger’s luck or maybe the favor of the gods. He did invent a merchant who’d supposedly given him a horse. The men round him were far more interested, anyway, in what he knew about the enemy. While the lords clustered round the gwerbret at his table, the various captains of the warbands stood round Yraen, and the mood of the hall grew grimmer and grimmer as the evening wore on. Most had never heard of Horsekin before, but none saw any reason to disbelieve him.
“Ah, well,” Renydd said at last, “I swore I’d die in my lord’s service, and that’s that. No one lives forever, eh, lads?”
The men round nodded, saying little, and drank hard.
Pleading weariness, Yraen left the great hall early. He picked up a candle lantern by the door, then found his bedroll out in the stables. With his gear slung over one shoulder, he was looking round the ward for a softer place to sleep than the cobbles when a young page, carrying a lantern of his own, hurried up to him. In the dancing light, he could see that the boy was smirking from ear to ear.
“I’ve got a message for you, and the lady gave me a whole silver piece to keep it secret.”
“The Lady Graeca?”
“It is. She wants you to follow me.”
Yraen debated, but curiosity won. The page led him through the mobbed maze of outbuildings and sleeping men, towers and tethered horses, carts and pigsties, to the main complex itself, then round the back of that into a narrow space between two of the half-brochs. As they walked, Yraen kept looking round, expecting to find her waiting in some secluded spot outside, but the page led him right into one of the towers and up the stairs. At a polished wood door the boy pointed, then winked and took his leave.
Before Yraen could knock, the door opened to reveal a small reception chamber, lit by candles in sconces. Giggling like a lass, Graeca hurried him inside and barred the door fast.
“I’ve sent my maid away, you see. Maryn, what are you doing here? Where have you been? Why are you carrying that beastly silver dagger?”
Yraen sighed and flopped the bedroll onto the floor. It had been so long since he’d heard his actual name that it no longer seemed to belong to him, as if perhaps the heroic king of the old chronicles, for whom he’d been named, had come back from the dead and asserted his right to bear it alone. Yraen set the candle lantern down in the hearth, empty on this warm summer’s night, then glanced round. On the far side of the chamber, a half-open door led to some other room.
“What are you doing here yourself?” he said instead of answering. “Visiting Drwmyc’s lady?”
“Of course. She happens to be my sister, you know. Or well, I don’t suppose you’d remember that.”
There were a pair of chairs standing on a Bardek carpet in the curve of the wall. Yawning, he flopped into one and stretched his legs out in front of him. For a moment she stood, studying him. Her unbound hair fell over slender shoulders.
“I must be filthy from the road,” he remarked. “My apologies.”
“Oh, please, I’m quite used to that by now, married off to a lord up here.” Her voice iced. “Things are very different than at court.”
“Your husband’s a fair bit richer than ever I would have been.”
“Do you think that mattered to me? I wept when they broke our betrothal,