Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [42]
“I require the meaning of a word.”
The jailor stared, his mouth flopping open and silent.
“I am Meer, bard and loremaster,” Meer bellowed. “Tell me what this word gwerbret means. Such lore is my due.”
With a shake the jailor recovered himself.
“Oh, is it now? Since when do hairy dogs have bards?”
“You better watch your tongue!” Jahdo snapped.
“Hush!” Meer waved him away. “Old man, first you called me a cow, now a dog. In my homeland you would have been publicly strangled for those insults. Here, as a slave, I have no choice but to forgive you. Yet even a slave-bard is a bard still. You will answer me my question, or I’ll call down the wrath of the gods.”
“Call away. FU not be telling you one wretched thing.”
As the jailor turned to go, Meer sang a high, piercing note whose harsh texture made Jahdo squirm. Louder and louder he sang, and longer and longer, until the jailor shrieked.
“Very well! Hold your ugly tongue, bard! FU tell you. I should have known that hairy savages like you would be as ignorant as you are ugly. A gwerbret’s a kind of lord, see, the most powerful lord there is, except for the princes and suchlike of the blood royal. He’s got vassals what owe him service and pay him dues. And he judges criminals and suchlike, and I hope to every god that when it comes to the judging of you, he hangs you good and proper.”
This time when the old man hurried off, Meer let him go
“May his heart burst within him,” Meer remarked. “Or better yet, may the gods plug his kidneys so that he dies in a stink of piss. Ah well. At least I’ve got my bit of new lore.”
Jahdo felt a profound relief Obviously Meer had truly decided to live if he’d go worrying about some funny name. He got the bard settled, then climbed back to his window perch to watch the twilight fading. After a few minutes he saw a familiar figure come striding out of the main broch.
“Someone’s coming. It be Rhodry, and he’s got Yraen and a couple of men from the squad with him.”
When he heard Rhodry’s voice in the corridor, and the jailor’s sniveling answers, Jahdo climbed down from his perch and handed the Gel da’Thae his staff. Meer rose to his feet just as they lifted the bar and opened the door. Rhodry made them a formal bow, but he was grinning all the while.
“Feel like a stroll in the evening air?” Rhodry said. “The ward’s nice and quiet at the moment, because most everyone’s still eating. I think we can get you across to the broch safely, if you hurry and if you cause me no troubled Agreed?”
“We don’t have any choice, do we?” Jahdo said.
Rhodry laughed as hard as if the world were one daft jest.
“None,” Rhodry said. “So march.”
Jahdo caught Meer’s arm, and they hurried out, striding fast across the ward with the men disposed around them— not that they could hide Meer, tall as he was, of course. Jahdo, however, had trouble seeing through them, although he could just make out the many-towered broch complex, looming against the darkening sky and drawing closer and closer. They ducked suddenly into a door, which Rhodry slammed behind them, turning wherever they were as dark as pitch.
“Curse you, Rhodry!” Yraen snarled. “I’m not climbing all those stairs in the dark.”
“Then get yourself into the great hall and grab us a candle-lantern. The servants should be lighting them about now. Draudd, Maen—when Yraen returns, you’re dismissed, but say one word about this, and you’ll have me to deal with.”
“I’ve forgotten already,” Draudd said. “Even though I’m still here.”
Once Yraen came back with a punched tin lantern, they climbed the staircase by its mottled and flickering light, up and up, round and round, until Meer and Jahdo both were panting for breath. At the landing up top, Rhodry let them pause among the heaped sacks.
“Now mind your manners in here,” he whispered. “We’re going to see Jill, and she holds your fate in her hands.”
Jahdo immediately pictured some great queen out of the ancient tales. He was not, therefore, prepared for the reality when Jill flung open the door. The chamber behind her glowed with a peculiar