Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [55]
“Who is it?” Otho's voice growled. “Ah, Your Highness! What are you doing here?”
“I was wondering the same,” Maddyn called out. “Your Highness!”
She laughed, turning in the light from the door to wave to him. He caught up to her and bowed. Otho stood scowling in the doorway to his forge.
“It's a dangerous thing,” Maddyn said, “going out by yourself at night.”
“I swear, Maddo, that you must have dweomer or suchlike yourself. How did you know I was out and about?”
“Caradoc's ghost told me.”
She started to laugh again, then fell silent. “You truly mean that, Maddo, don't you?”
“Well, so it seemed.” Maddyn looked down at the ground. “It must have been a dream.”
“Ye gods!” Otho snarled. “Come in, then, both of you! I'm in the midst of working, and I'm not going to risk the loss of good silver to humor a pair of the daft. You can prattle about ghosts inside as well as out.”
Inside the square room, heat blazed from a central fire pit, which had walls round it, some three feet high and built of brick. The sour thin smoke of glowing charcoal rose in wisps above to an open vent on the roof. The fire cast a fitful light on the clutter heaped up at the edges of the room: tables, chests, a couple of wood benches, racks of tools, piles of rags.
“I don't remember you having all these goods before,” Maddyn said.
“The Boar clan's silversmith wasn't going to be using any of them,” Otho said. “Or he would have taken them with him, eh? Now here, Your Highness, I don't have a proper chair in the place.”
“This will do.” Bellyra set her lantern down on the ground, then perched on a three-legged stool. “I couldn't sleep. I wanted to see how the gift was coming along.”
“That's right.” Otho turned to his forge. “I remember telling you I'd start work tonight. The moon's in a good place for the pouring of silver.”
“It's for our prince.” Bellyra glanced at Maddyn. “To celebrate his kingship.”
“I see, my lady.” Maddyn sat down on a bench. When he remembered his brief hope that she was seeking him out, he felt like an utter fool. A gift for her husband, he thought bitterly. Well, you knew you were reaching above yourself.
Bellyra leaned forward, watching the smith. Maddyn slumped back against the wall and watched her. The dancing shadows played over her face and threw its gaunt hollows into high relief. Her hair was coming free of the silver clasp that kept most of it back, letting tendrils fall across her cheeks. He had never wanted anything so much as he wanted to smooth those strands back and kiss her. He could hear the fire hissing and Otho muttering to himself, but Maddyn never looked round. Had someone asked him later what the smith had been doing, he couldn't have told them one thing.
All at once Bellyra turned her head and caught his stare, looked at him so openly, so boldly, that he was suddenly frightened, thinking perhaps she could read his thoughts. With a shake of his head he stood up.
“I'll wait outside for you, Your Highness. The heat in here—it's a bit much.”
Before she could answer, he strode out, shutting the door carefully behind him. Outside, the summer night seemed as cold as autumn after the thick dry heat of the forge. His thin linen shirt was sticking to his back and chest both with sweat. For the fresher air he walked a little way into the ward, then came back to lean against the wall. He yawned, suddenly sleepy, and wondered how long she would stay.
Not very: in a few moments the door creaked open, and Bellyra stepped out, carrying her lantern. Wisps of hair stuck to her wet-shiny face.
“You're right,” she said. “The heat's unbearable, and besides, Otho's doing some process I'm not supposed to watch.”
“Very well.” He smiled at her. “Shall I escort you back to the royal broch?”
“When you smile like that, Maddo, I feel like I'm half-mad.”
Puzzled, he made no answer. She stooped, set the lantern down, and walked over to him. He knew he should speak, make