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By Root 1193 0

She must have hated Dwaen for having him hanged and brooded on it till she went mad. And then there’s the serving lass. Who else could have got Vyna a place in Dwaen’s dun, all under the cover of kindness? And who else would have known that Vyna had a child they could hold hostage? Who else would have hated the Lady Ylaena, too? The women in your dun told me that Mallona was awfully taken with Lord Cadlew, and it’s also common knowledge that he spurned her cold. Ylaena was her rival. Mallona would have enjoyed her revenge, all right, if that pack of brigands had got Ylaena alone somewhere. But how could Mallona hire the men and give them orders? Send a messenger along the roads to announce she had a hire for murderers? Invite them into her husband’s hall? That’s where Bavydd came in.”

All at once, Rhodry remembered Lord Beryn and looked his way to find the lord kneeling on the floor. It seemed that Beryn had shrunk into himself, turned old and gray and somehow smaller. With a drunken gesture, Beryn raised his head and keened like a man over his dead.

“Your lordship has my sympathy,” Jill said. “Truly he does. But I don’t see why he should suffer for someone else’s crimes.”

“No more do I,” Coryc said. “I want the lady brought here for questioning. Indeed, with his lordship’s permission, I’ll summon an honor guard and ride to fetch her myself.”

Like a warrior stabbed on the battlefield but determined to stand until he dies, Beryn staggered to his feet. By law, he had the right to ride home and defend his lady with his life from these charges, and Rhodry stepped forward, half without thinking, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Beryn saw the gesture and began to laugh, a ghastly sobbing mirth.

“Stay your hand, Silver Dagger. Your milksop lord’s safe from me. I only ask one boon, Your Grace. Don’t make me watch her hang. I loved her once.”

“Done.”

Coryc began to speak further, but the crowd broke, first into whispers, then into an excited gabble that grew louder and louder as the people swirled about. Coryc hesitated, then yelled at the guards to clear the hall and be done with it. In the confusion, Beryn gathered his sworn men round him like a dressing for a wound and swept away; when Dwaen tried to follow to apologize further, Rhodry and Cadlew held him back. The gwerbret was so thickly surrounded by clamoring priests that he never did bother to formally adjourn the malover.

Once the chamber was reasonably clear, Rhodry looked around for Jill, but he found her gone. Blast her! he thought. What’s she up to now? Since Dwaen was quite obviously safe, he left his hire and went after her. As he was walking down the stairs, he smelled something, a familiar scent—a hint of cinnamon and musk, exactly that which had hung round the man who’d tried to hire him for murder. Rhodry threw up his head like a hunting dog and raced down the spiral at a dangerous pace. For a moment, at the foot of the stairs, he caught the scent again, but the great hall was packed with gossiping people. By the time he made his way to the door out, he could find neither scent nor sight of the man who, he could assume, had to have been Bavydd of Cerrmor.

After a short search, Jill discovered Lord Beryn and his men out by the stables. Silent and miserable, they were unsaddling their horses, and when she approached, they all stared at her in angry bewilderment, as if they couldn’t decide whether she was the cause of their lord’s trouble or his savior from it. Beryn himself, however, raised one hand and flapped it in dispirited greeting.

“My lord, I know I’ve brought you great grief, but I’ve come now to bring you a little solace. May I speak?”

“Why not, Silver Dagger? I can’t think of one wretched thing you could do to hurt me any worse.”

“You’ve lost your only son, and I know it’s a grievous thing to think your clan will die when you do. But I’ve come to tell you that your son sired a son before he died. It’s the child we spoke about in the malover, Vyna’s babe. The child’s a bastard, of course, but he could be legitimized.”

Beryn wrenched himself