Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [33]
“Well done,” the prince said. “Don't let me keep you from your fires.”
“My thanks, Your Highness.” Branoic rose and bowed. “It's been a long day's ride.”
In the company of the other scouts Branoic strode off into the sea of tents. Maryn's servant sighed aloud and darted away. Nevyn raised an eyebrow at Maryn, who shrugged.
“My apologies,” Maryn said. “I need to watch my tongue.”
“A wise thought,” Nevyn said.
“That's the worst of it, isn't it? Being the prince, I mean. I'm not allowed to lapse like ordinary men.”
“Even ordinary men need to watch their tongues now and again.”
Maryn gave him a sour smile, then turned and without another word ducked into his tent. In the gathering twilight Nevyn walked back to his own. The worst danger for the kingdom would arrive tomorrow with Braemys's army, but the worst danger for the prince and those who loved him was waiting back in Dun Deverry.
Deep in the night, once the astral tide of Earth had settled into a steady flow, Nevyn scried again, and once again he found the two halves of Braemys's army, one to the south, one to the east, camped under the stars without tents or campfires. They had sacrificed everything for speed. If Maryn had lacked the presence of a dweomermaster, he and his army would have found themselves caught between two forces like a bite of meat between two jaws.
As it was, of course, they were warned.
Well before dawn Maddyn woke. He sat up in the silent darkness of his tent and considered the odd sensation troubling him. In a few moments he realized that, for the first time in days, he felt hungry. Somewhere near at hand Branoic had left him a chunk of bread on just this chance, but he could see nothing but a triangle of lighter dark at the tent's mouth.
“Curse it all!”
Cautiously he got to his knees and began feeling the ground at the head of his blankets. Behind him he heard a rustling and a sound that might have been a whisper. A silver glow cast sudden shadows. When he twisted round he saw his blue sprite, glowing like the moon and grinning at him.
“My thanks,” he said. “And there's the bread.”
Branoic had left it wrapped in cloth upon his saddle, the only thing in the tent that would serve as a shelf. Maddyn found a covered tankard of watered ale nearby as well. With his sprite for company, Maddyn began dipping the bread in the ale and eating the moist bits, but he'd not got far into the chunk before he realized he was making a mistake. He tried a sip of plain ale and felt his stomach burn and twist.
“So much for that.”
Maddyn wrapped the bread back up, then lay down again, but it took him a long while to sleep with his stomach cramping and complaining. When he finally dozed off, he dreamt of Aethan, lying dead on the battlefield, and woke in a cold sweat. This time, at least, dawnlight streamed into the tent. From outside he heard voices, talking softly; then someone pulled the tent flap to one side and stuck his head in: Nevyn.
“Ah,” Nevyn said. “You're awake.”
“More or less, my lord.” Maddyn sat up, then clutched his aching stomach with both arms. “I tried to eat somewhat in the night.”
“With bad result, I see. The prince wants to see you.”
“I'll come out.”
Much to his relief, Maddyn found that he could crawl out of the tent with some effort and then, with Nevyn's help, stand up. The prince had already donned his chain-mail shirt, but the hood lay on his shoulders, and he wore no helm. In the dawnlight his