Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [40]
“Well, Your Grace, we found a couple of prowlers, sure enough, but I doubt me if they’re truly spies. One’s but a lad, you see, and the other’s blind.”
The equerry and chamberlain exchanged startled looks, and Cadmar himself grunted in surprise.
“Cursed strange, then. Why were they riding in my lands?”
“I have no idea, Your Grace. I do know that Jill has great hopes of getting information out of them.”
“No doubt she’d like me to leave the matter in her hands?”
“If his grace agrees, of course.”
“Well, most likely I will.” The gwerbret turned to the page. “Alli, run up to Jill’s chambers and ask her, and politely, mind, but ask her to come down for a word with me.”
Although the boy bowed and ran off fast, he was obviously smarting at the vertical hike ahead of him. Cadmar glanced at the chamberlain.
“Think he’ll learn courtesy one of these fine days?”
“I can only hope so, Your Grace,” the old man sighed, “I’m doing my best to teach the wretched little snot.”
Cadmar laughed, then remembered Rhodry and turned to him with a quick wave of one hand.
“You may go, silver dagger. No need for you to be standing round here.”
“My thanks, Your Grace.”
Rhodry went out to the barracks, those structures built into the walls that had so puzzled Jahdo, and drew himself water at the stable well for a cold bath. Once he was shaved and reasonably clean, he went back to the great hall to keep an eye on things. He got himself some ale, dipping his own tankard to avoid giving a servant lass the chance to snub him, then found himself a seat at a table on the far side of the hall, where he could watch the noble-born from a proper distance. A few at a time, the honor-bound men in the various warbands quartered at the dun came drifting in, chivvying the lasses and settling down at one table or another to wait for the evening meal. Unlike the servants and the noble-born, most of the men had a friendly greeting for Rhodry or a jest to share. They’d seen him fight, after all, and judged his worth on that.
The hall filled up fast. For the war against the raiding party captained by Meer’s brother, Cadmar had called in two of his closest vassals, Lord Matyc and Lord Gwinardd, and as their oaths of fealty demanded, they’d brought twenty-five men apiece with them to add to Cadmar’s oath-sworn riders. One of the latter, a young, brown-haired lad named Draudd, sat himself down beside Rhodry.
“Where’s Yraen?”
“Don’t know, but he’d better be cleaning himself up,” Rhodry said. “I thought he’d be in by now. Why?”
“Just asking, wondering if he’s up for a game of carnoic or suchlike.” Draudd yawned profoundly. “He plays cursed well Here, Rhodry, some of the men have a wager on, like, that Yraen’s noble-born.”
“Do they now? I hope they don’t go asking him outright and hope to live to collect it. Prying into a silver dagger’s past is bad for a man’s health.”
Draudd snorted into his ale.
“I’m not having a jest on you,” Rhodry spoke quietly, levelly. “Tell them to lay off.”
Draudd looked up sharply, his good cheer gone.
“And another thing,” Rhodry went on. “Am I included in this little game?”
Draudd turned beet-red in silent confession. Rhodry grabbed him by a twist of shirt that nearly choked him and hauled him face-to-face.
“Lay it off, lad. Do you understand me?” He let Draudd go with a thrust of his wrist that sent the lad reeling. “Do you?”
“I do, and I will, then.” He hesitated, rubbing his throat with one hand, then swung himself free of the bench. “I’ll just go have a word with the captain, like.”
Rhodry realized that a clot of men were hovering in the door and watching. He ignored them and picked up his tankard again. When he checked a few moments later, he found them gone.
Soon after Jill appeared at the far side of the great hall and hurried up to the gwerbret’s table, where Cadmar himself rose to greet her, insisting she take the place of honor at his right hand. Although he