Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [74]
“That’s wonderful,” Carra said, smiling. “Come up-stairs with me. I have a special chamber, you see, for receiving visitors.”
During the visit Mic said little, mostly ate his way through the tray of sweet cakes that Carra’s maid brought up, but Otho was full of gossip from town and dun both.
“When are you going to pay Rhodry?” Carra asked him finally. “He keeps grumbling about it.”
“Oh, I’ve had the coin for him for a good long time now. It’s a jest, like, that’s all, me putting him off. Him and Yraen both, they get so indignant over their wretched hire!”
“Well, maybe so, but you can’t blame them. It’s all they’ve got in life.”
“Hah! They could have chosen better. Well, that’s unfair to Rhodry, but young Yraen decided that he had to have the dagger, and not one word of sensible advice would stop him from leaving his kin and clan and riding the long road.”
“Really? Here I thought he’d done some awful thing, like all the rest of them. All the rest of the silver daggers, I mean, not his kin.”
“Not Yraen, neither. That’s not his real name, of course. No mother names her cub for an ingot of iron, not even among my people. But he was glamoured of the idea of riding the long road, you see, and badgered Rhodry into taking him on. He’s from a noble house, Yraen.” Otho drooped one eyelid and held up a sly finger. “A very, very noble house, or so I think. Close to the throne, like.”
“By the goddess herself! How very odd!”
“It is, truly. Why anyone would leave the High King’s court to ride the long road is beyond me. He’s a strange one, Yraen, though he has his reasons, I suppose, whether he knows them himself or not.” All at once Otho looked away, as if something had pained him.
“Is there a draft from that window?” Carra said, glad to have a change of subject. “I can get my maid to—”
No need, no need. I was just remembering somewhat, like, from a long time ago.” Otho seemed profoundly sad. “I should pay those coins over, my lady. You’re right, you’re right. The jest’s gone on too long.”
“Well, I—” Carra hesitated, profoundly uncomfortable, blaming herself for the odd turn in the talk. “Mic, would you like that last cake? Don’t be shy. Help yourself.”
The young dwarf blushed scarlet, but with a sidelong glance at his glowering uncle, take it he did. For the rest of the visit Carra kept the conversation firmly on the subject of Otho himself and his kinsfolk in Cengarn. But later that day, as she walked in the ward with the other women and their usual escort, she saw Yraen standing by the stables as they passed. He turned to watch her, his face carefully arranged into indifference, all the while that they were walking by. As they turned to go into the walled herb garden and out of sight, she glanced back to see him watching still.
From her tower room Jill happened to see the women passing by below, as well, but she never noticed Yraen, not that she would have thought much about him if she had. All that morning she’d been studying the books she’d brought back with her from a recent trip to the Southern Isles, looking for one last clue to a puzzle that had haunted her for years. Rhodry wore a ring given to him by his father a long time past, a simple silver band, graved with roses on the outside and a word written in Elvish characters on the inside, although when sounded out the word made no sense whatsoever in any language. She’d determined that it was a name, and a very peculiar kind of name indeed, and that Evandar had graved it there before passing it along to Rhodry’s father. Apparently Evandar believed that the owner of the name had some crucial role to play in the dark days ahead. Most likely it would act as a guardian to the unborn child.
So far, so good, but why give Rhodry the name and naught more? The name must have had some special significance beyond identifying its owner, but Evandar refused to unravel his own riddle, simply because he was Evandar and for no better reason at ail. At times Jill wondered if she hated him, meddling