Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [127]
“Your Grace?” she said. “The men with those long red coats? I’d say they’re the truly important leaders. They carry whips, and I notice that the men listen to them, no matter what the captains in gold may be doing.”
“Good point,” Cadmar said. “I’ll see that our men know who to pick for targets. We don’t have a wretched lot of arrows and javelins in the dun. We have to get a high price for each one we loose.”
“Truly. Well, you didn’t need my dweomer for the fight today. I wonder what made them break so soon?”
They learned, of course, as soon as they returned to the dun. Since Cadmar stayed at the walls until the field was deserted—in case the Horsekin retreat was a trick—it was several hours before Jill rode back in his company. As she was dismounting in the ward, Dallandra came hurrying out.
“Jill, horrible news! Meer is dead.”
Jill tried to speak and failed. She tossed her reins to a waiting page and rushed inside.
By then, the women in the dun had washed the bard’s body and laid him out on an improvised bier in the great hall, where he would lie overnight before they buried him on the temple hill in town. A few at a time, the men came to pay their respects, then all stood round, drinking and shaking their heads, that they were facing an enemy heinous enough to murder a bard. Carra was sobbing over Meer’s body, and the sight of her made Jill come close to weeping herself, for the first time in a great many years. Since she refused to indulge herself, she listened instead, finally piecing out the story from Draudd and the men in his squad.
“An elven longbow?” Jill said at last. “Here? You’re sure?”
“I am, my lady. I’ll swear it on any god you like.”
“That bodes ill.”
“Doesn’t it?” Draudd rolled his eyes heavenward. “Ye gods, my lady, the size of these creatures! Can you imagine just how heavy a bow one of them could pull?”
Jill could, and she winced. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some sort of scuffling on the stairway and turned, irritably wondering who was profaning the wake. Two servants came clattering down, their arms full of Meer’s possessions, with the aged chamberlain, Lord Gavry, proceeding more slowly after. Jahdo came with him, arguing and sobbing all at the same time. Jill started over in time to hear what the trouble was: some of those goods were the boy’s, but Gavry had no time or patience to care.
“Listen, you little snot-faced cub!” the old man snapped. “You’re naught but a servant, and your master’s dead. You don’t have a place here anymore. I’m minded to speak to my lord, and he’ll turn you out on the streets to starve.”
“Let him! You do steal from me.”
Gavry swung, slapping the boy across the face, and marched on. Jahdo burst out weeping and raced out the back door of the hall. Gavry started to hurl some oath after him, then caught Jill’s expression and shriveled.
“Er, ah, well, my good sorcerer, the gall of the little snot, arguing with his betters, and all about some goods he claims are his. How would I know the truth of that? Servants and people of that sort always lie.”
Since Jill had been born one of “that sort,” her mood darkened further. Gavry stepped back fast.
“I doubt very much if he does lie, my lord.” Jill forced her voice level. “The bard’s drum and suchlike will have to be buried with him, but don’t you dispose of any of that other gear till you’ve spoken with me. Not one piece of it.”
Leaving a stammering Gavry behind her, Jill stalked out of the hall and began looking for Jahdo. After a long search, she found the boy out behind some storage sheds by the dun wall. He was huddled into a corner, his arms wrapped round his knees, staring out at nothing. When she walked up, he turned his head away. Jill sat down on the ground next to him and merely waited until, at length, he looked at her.
“I mourn him, too, Jahdo. He was a great man, and a good friend, and I’ll miss him.”
Jahdo nodded, blinking back tears.
“It’s a hard thing to lose