Gwenhwyfar_ The White Spirit - Mercedes Lackey [95]
“Walk with me, warrior?” Lancelin replied, looking about for a moment to see if there was anyone near.
Warrior? And not lady . . . There was a brief tinge of regret in her, that he had named her the former and not the latter. This was not the first time that a young man had regarded her so. It seemed that she could be one or the other . . . but not both. Like women’s magic, the more she took up the sword, the farther she went from the path her sisters had taken. The twinge went deeper for a moment, almost a stab of pain, as if something had been cut from her. Then she squared her shoulders and accepted it. So be it. This must have been the same choice Braith had made, and it was not a bad one. And at least he treated her as the seasoned warrior she was and not as the stripling she resembled. She was listened to with attention and respect by the war chiefs. Her ruse in this latest campaign had brought her praise. It was very likely that when her father went to the Summer Country and Cataruna’s husband took the throne, she would be his favored war chief and advisor. She did not want a throne, but she did want respect. And freedom.
Perhaps giving up the notion of a lover, and womanly things, was not so great a thing to sacrifice for freedom.
“Surely, Companion,” she replied, and the two of them walked slowly away from the charnel field, facing away from the piles of naked bodies and the feasting ravens, moving slowly and obliquely in the direction of the camp.
“You seem more familiar than most with Lot of Orkney and his brood.”
She nodded, being careful where she stepped, both literally and metaphorically. “My youngest sister went to foster with Anna Morgause when my mother died. That was about the time of the birth of the High King’s sons.”
She turned her head slightly and saw him make a calculation. “There is often a handfasting in such cases,” he said cautiously.
“And there is in this one.” She said nothing more. He was intelligent. She would see how intelligent.
“Ah.” He waited some time for her to elaborate, and when she did not, he nodded thoughtfully. “You are fond of her, this sister?”
“There is no love between us,” she said, the words coming from her mouth before she could stop them. Curse it. Ah, well. I shall never make a courtier.
He nodded again. “In that case . . . I would be in your debt if you can tell me what you can of the Orkney brood. For while I hold Gwalchmai my friend, and there is no sweeter-natured man than Gwynfor, I have never met Medraut, Gwalchafed is as hot-tempered as Gwalchmai with none of his brother’s virtues, and as for Agrwn, the less said the better.”
Gwen pondered this for a moment. “Well,” she said carefully, “I had very little to do with any of the brothers but Medraut. He is crafty, cunning, and exceedingly intelligent. He can convincingly feign whatever he thinks will bring him the most advantage. He is much like his mother in that he will use any craft or guile to get what he wants. And there is only one person I have ever seen him exert himself to benefit.”
“That would be Medraut himself, I think?” Lancelin’s face was quiet, and thoughtful. “I think he will find himself very much at odds with the queen.” He nodded decisively. “Thank you, warrior. You have given me a great deal to consider.”
With that, they reached the camp and separated. She did not envy Lancelin, returning to a court that evidently contained a queen with an uncertain temper, and Medraut, as well as whatever other factions were simmering.
Not in the least.
Chapter Fifteen
Gwen returned to a life of work and solitude.
There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she was needed. There was no doubt in her mind that she was, as she had always wanted to be, respected. Her father’s men were accustomed to her now, and they took no more thought of her being female and looking strangely young than they did of her father’s gray hairs. It was only when they were among strangers that they seemed to realize it again; now that they were home again, everything went back