The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [96]
“I’ve not got used to that yet,” the councillor said with a small sigh. “I doubt me if I ever will.”
“My apologies.” Nevyn turned to the prince. “Your Highness, you’ll remember the problem of the Cerrmor rhan?”
“I do, indeed,” Maryn said. “It kept me awake half the night past.”
“Councillor Oggyn,” Nevyn went on, “how many years do you think must pass before the royal demesnes are prosperous again?”
“I’m not truly sure.” Oggyn frowned, thinking. “Much depends upon the number of men available to farm them and of course the weather. There are bondfolk still in the villages, but they’ve been too dispirited to work very hard, and truly, who can blame them? If we fed them decently and got them the seed corn they need, in but three or four years the fields would bloom again. Five, mayhap.”
“Good,” Nevyn said. “And in five or six years, Riddmar of Pyrdon, our prince’s half brother, will be on the edge of manhood—and able to rule Cerrmor without his brother’s aid as regent.”
For a long moment both prince and councillor stared at him. Then Maryn laughed, tossing back his head.
“Oh, splendid, splendid!” Maryn said, grinning. “Why should Riddmar listen to Eldidd if I give him such a splendid prize?”
“And how can he deny you troops, with you as regent?” Nevyn said. “And who among your vassals will argue with you about it? Gauryc can nurse his disappointments all he wants, but he knows you have to hold Eldidd at bay. He’s greedy, not stupid.”
Oggyn was smiling as if the Goddess of the Fields had appeared to him, her arms laden with bounty.
“The long view,” Oggyn said. “Lord Nevyn, truly you’re a master of the long view.”
“My thanks.” Nevyn wondered what Oggyn would think if he knew just how long his view was. “But it was Maddyn the bard who started me thinking about this.”
“Then he shall eat at my table tonight,” Maryn said. “When shall we announce our choice, good councillors?”
“First, my liege, I suggest we get messengers on their way to Pyrdon,” Nevyn said, “before the snows set in.”
“I’ll fetch a scribe, my liege,” Oggyn said, all smiles, “should you wish me to.”
“My thanks.” Maryn nodded at him. “You have my leave to go.”
With Oggyn gone, another matter occurred to Nevyn, now that he had a moment of the prince’s attention.
“If I have my liege’s permission, I’d like to travel to Cerrmor,” Nevyn said. “There are a few things I left behind that I want to fetch, things that servants have no business handling, if you take my meaning.”
“Of course. Here, can you leave soon? One of the Cerrmor galleys is standing on the river down past the falls. I could send a messenger to hold it there, and you could ride down and take it over.”
“My thanks, my liege. That would save a great deal of time.”
“And what about your apprentice?” Maryn made a slight bit too much of a show of looking away. “Will she accompany you?”
Until that moment Nevyn had been planning on leaving Lilli behind.
“She will, my liege. I’ll need her help with packing these things for the journey.”
Maryn’s eyes had gone cold and distant. Nevyn could figure out what he was trying to hide: disappointed lust. When Oggyn came bustling in with the scribe, Nevyn was glad to turn his mind elsewhere.
Toward the end of summer in Cerrmor, the fog disappeared and left the weather glorious. In the hot afternoons Princess Bellyra and her women would take their needlework out to the rose garden by the marble fountain. Even though she knew the sun would be good for her, it took all of Bellyra’s courage and a good bit of coaxing as well to get her into the garden each day. The bright light seemed to turn the world as flat and as unreal as the red wyverns she embroidered upon a shirt for her husband. Often she would run her needle into the cloth and let the work lie in her lap while she stared out across the garden, splashed with scarlet roses, to the trees