Fire Dragon - Katharine Kerr [83]
The morrow came with more rain and a low dark sky. Despite the weather, Prince Maryn decreed that Lilli's body should lie in the sacred grove near his wife's grave. This time there would be no splendid procession, though the prince did accompany her in the ride across town to the temple hill. Nevyn debated, then decided against going, simply because Maryn's grief for his mistress was so much more sincere than that for his wife. There are some things, he told himself, that a man shouldn't watch.
Some while after the small cortege left the gates, Nevyn returned to his tower room. The afternoon seemed so gloomy that he lit a pair of candles as much for company as for light. He was sitting at his table, trying to compose a letter to Tieryn Anasyn, when he heard voices on the stairs.
“Who is it?” Nevyn called out. “I'm busy.”
The door opened anyway, and Otho marched in, followed by Maddyn, who was carrying a basket of bread.
“We heard you'd not eaten today.” Maddyn set the basket down.
“True spoken,” Nevyn said. “My thanks.”
“And we need you to settle a quarrel,” Maddyn went on. “About those red stones the princess gave our smith here. I say he should return them to the prince.”
“And why should I?” Otho snapped. “Her wretched swine of a husband doesn't deserve fine stones like that.”
“It's not a matter of deserving,” Maddyn said. “It's a matter of rightfully owning.”
“He's right,” Nevyn broke in. “They belong to her children now.”
Otho glowered but said nothing.
“Give them over.” Nevyn held out his hand.
Otho made a sound like a dog's growl, but he untied the pouch at his belt, fished in it with two fingers, and handed at last the two small rubies, square cut, over to Nevyn.
“You wretched meddler!” Otho snarled at Maddyn. “Bad cess to you!”
“Come now,” Nevyn said. “Is it truly the rubies that are vexing you so badly?”
“Well.” Otho paused, considering. “It's them, somewhat, but truly, if this slime-hearted silver dagger had stayed away from our lady, she'd be alive now.”
Maddyn winced and turned dead-white. Nevyn got up, ready to intervene.
“And I warn you somewhat, Maddo lad,” Otho went on. “No one hates as well as the Mountain Folk. I don't care how long it may be till we meet again. I'll recognize you and I'll remember.”
“Otho!” Nevyn snapped. “For the love of the gods, think what you're saying! Think what you're doing to yourself!”
“What, my lord? Binding one of your cursed chains of Wyrd?”
“Just that, and ye gods, you could at least be putting the blame where it belongs.”
“Indeed, my lord? On our prince?”
Nevyn said nothing. Otho tore his dagger gaze away from Maddyn.
“You're right enough, Lord Nevyn,” the dwarf said. “And I'll just be leaving his court. There's naught to keep me here a day longer.”
When he left the chamber Otho slammed the door so hard that the candlesticks on the table bounced in a scatter of scorching wax. Nevyn caught them just in time to prevent the half-finished letter from going up in flames. His arms crossed tight over his chest, Maddyn watched him.
“Do you blame me?” Maddyn said at last.
“What for? Loving a woman honorably and from your distance?”
“I never should have taken her gifts.”
“Why not? Royalty shower trinkets upon their favorites all the time. Her feelings would have been hurt had you turned them down.”
Maddyn nodded, then strode to the window to slap his palms against the sill and lean out into the rain.
“I used to be the prince's man heart and soul, but no more.” He seemed to be talking to the rising moon as much as to Nevyn. “I can't stand it, the thought of her—”
“No more can I. I'll be leaving court myself as soon as I can, though I'll take a more gracious