Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [25]
“So, she was sniffing round you, was she? It’s no wonder you refuse to talk. One word, and you start giving everything away. Very well, then, hold your tongue a while longer. I’ll nose him out sooner or later.”
With a nod to the guard to lock the prisoner up again, Coryc led the rest of them out into the ward.
“All right, Silver Dagger, you’ve got some game afoot, and you can blasted well let the rest of us know what it is.”
“Your Grace,” Jill said, “I’ll beg you a boon. If I’m right, this crime is truly scandalous. So I don’t want to make any charge or raise anybody’s suspicions until we’re assembled in a proper court of law. Of course, I’ll tell you if you order me to, but I truly do think we should wait until your malover. Your wife will tell you that I’m trustworthy.”
“She already has, actually. Very well. Your request’s both fair and honorable.” The gwerbret looked round with an apologetic smile, since he doubtless knew perfectly well that everyone there was burning with curiosity. “After all, Lord Beryn should arrive on the morrow.”
Lord Beryn did indeed arrive, during the noon meal. As Dwaen’s bodyguard, Rhodry was sitting next to the tieryn at the gwerbret’s table when from out in the ward came the clatter and bustle of armed men dismounting. The enormous hall fell silent as everyone, noble-born and commoner alike, turned to stare at the door. With ten of his men behind him, Lord Beryn strode in, a tall man, raw-boned and grizzled, with sweeping gray mustaches and narrow dark eyes that darted this way and that. Rhodry figured that he was about fifty winters old. He gestured to his men to wait, then strode across the great hall and knelt, with a profound grunt, at the gwerbret’s side.
“Now what’s all this, Your Grace? I’ve been wading through rivers of evil gossip, saying that I’m trying to kill Tieryn Dwaen of Dun Ebonlyn. It’s cursed well not true.”
“True or not, the matter’s serious enough to warrant an inquiry.” Coryc rose to tower over him. “If both parties agree, we’ll convene the malover immediately. The priests are here and waiting.”
“Indeed?” Beryn swung his head and glared at Dwaen. “Listen, you little coward, I’ve got every reason in the world to kill you, but if I was going to, I’d call you out to a duel like a man—if you had the guts to face me.”
Rhodry grabbed Dwaen’s arm and forced him to sit back down.
“Lord Beryn, I call for silence!” Coryc snapped. “Tieryn Dwaen, there’ll be no dueling in my hall.”
With a doglike growl, Beryn settled back on his heels.
“My lord,” Coryc went on, “the tieryn has reliable witnesses. We are going to hear these witnesses in proper order, in my chamber of justice, with the priests of Bel there as well. Am I understood?”
“You are, Your Grace.” Beryn’s voice began to shake. “Didn’t I accept Your Grace’s judgment on my son? Didn’t I stand in your ward and watch without lifting a finger when—”
“Don’t vex yourself, Beryn.” Coryc turned and made an ambiguous gesture with one hand. “All the witnesses present? Good. Then come along, come along. I want this grievous affair settled and done.”
The gwerbret’s chamber of justice was a big half-round of a room, hung with banners in his colors. In the curve of the wall stood two tables, one for his grace and his scribes, one for the priests and theirs. The witnesses stood on the gwerbret’s right, the accused and his supporters on his left. The rest of the hall was packed with spectators—officials, riders, servants, even a few townfolk, a quiet but jostling crowd that spilled out through the double doors into the corridor beyond. As Dwaen and Cadlew laid their deposition concerning the archer and the dead dog, the rat in the bed, Vyna’s tale, and the capture of the prisoner, the crowd stopped moving and seemed to crouch on the floor, straining to hear every word. Beryn’s color turned from sun-bitten tan to red and back again. Finally, Rhodry was called forward to tell of the attack on Lady Ylaena. He’d barely finished when Beryn broke, charging forward to stand