Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [174]
“You weren’t given much choice in the matter, were you?”
“None.” Her mouth twisted in the same smile. “But I were well pleased, all the same, to walk in the light, and he were in his way a good man. When he did drown, I wept.”
He could hear old pain in her voice. He glanced round—no one in sight—and took her hand to pull her close beside him. She sighed, letting her head rest against his shoulder, just briefly before she pulled away.
“Where Enj be I know not,” she said. “I would worry about those enemies who did try to prevent you here, but Avain has seen him many times, safe and on his way.”
Rhodry heard then what she must have heard, the crunch of footsteps on gravel. With a face as sour as old vinegar and the smell of it hanging about her as well, the maidservant walked out from among the trees. When she said something in Dwarvish, Angmar nodded agreement.
“It be needful for me to go, Rori. They be pickling beef, and I must be unlocking the salt chest.”
“I’d best go back with you if I want to reach the manse.”
The maidservant shot him a glance of pure venom, as if she’d been hoping he’d stay by the lake and end up feeding one of the beasts.
Otho and Mic had rejoined Garin in the great hall. When Rhodry came trotting in, they all slewed round and looked at him.
“What’s so wrong?” Garin said.
“Cengarn’s under siege. Avain saw it in her basin.”
Garin went dead-still, sat for a long time with his hand frozen round his tankard’s handle. Otho and Mic said nothing, either, merely watched the envoy as if waiting for orders. At last he muttered a few words in Dwarvish.
“Ye gods,” he whispered in Deverrian. “Grim news, Rori. Grim, grim news indeed. I’ve got to get back to Lin Serr as soon as ever I can. We have alliances with Cadmar, after all, and kin in that town as well.” He rose, setting the tankard down. “I must find Angmar. Otho, I hate to let you negotiate on your own over your debt, but—”
“Oh, don’t vex yourself about that.” A note of cheer crept into Otho’s voice. “I’ll manage, I’ll manage.”
“If I find out later you’ve been miserly, you’ll pay double in fines.” Garin hesitated, considering something. “Well, I’ll speak with Angmar. It’s too late in the day to leave right now, anyway.”
He ran out, leaving the rest of them looking round at each other with not a word more to say.
That night Rhodry retired to their chamber early, undressed and got into bed, lying awake with his hands tucked under his head to wait for Angmar while she settled Avain down out in the tower. Moonlight poured through the unshuttered windows, and the damp summer breeze ruffled his hair. He had lived through a number of sieges in his life, on both sides of the town walls. No matter how hard he tried to banish them, memories crowded round him of the horrors a long siege would bring. Worse yet were his memories of a town falling to the besiegers, himself among them. He knew all too well how brutally a man could act after long months of frustration under some stubborn enemy’s walls. He sat up, shaking his head hard as if he could spit out the taste of shame. He got up and went to sit in the window seat until Angmar came in to distract him from his remembering.
She barred the door behind her, then set her candle-lantern down on the little table. He got up and kissed her, then lay down on the bed to watch while she undressed, taking her time, primly folding each piece of clothing and laying it down on top of a wooden chest.
“You’re truly beautiful,” he said.
“Do you be thinking so? Always I did feel so strange and ugly, in the dwarf hold and to my husband as well, too tall and spindly, like, and with this yellow hair.”
“I’m not one of the Mountain People.”
She smiled and lay down, turning into his arms for a kiss. Before he could take another one, she laid her fingertips on his mouth.
“Tell me one thing first, Rori. Is it that you’ve seen the woman in white these past few days?”
“I haven’t.”
“When did you see her last?”
She sounded so urgent