The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [101]
“So it has, Your Grace. We Eldidd men can be a peculiar lot.”
Although the others laughed at the jest, it made Perryn’s unease deepen. There was something odd about the silver dagger that he couldn’t put into words but that pricked at him, a discomfort much like the one that warned him he was straying from a true path. Rhodry was more than a danger to him; he was a reproach, or part of a curse, or—something. Perryn felt so baffled that he shook his head, a gesture that was a mistake. All at once the room seemed to spin around him, and a crackling golden fog rose out of nowhere. He heard Nedd call out, then fainted. Although he woke briefly when Nedd and Benoic laid him on a bed, he was asleep before they left the chamber. All that day he slept, and he dreamt of Jill.
On the morrow, every unwounded man in the dun rode out with the noble-born, ostensibly in honorable escort as they returned the bodies of Naddryc and his allies, but in reality as a warband in case Naddryc’s kin decided to continue the blood feud. Jill spent a long morning helping Graemyn’s wife, Camma, tend the wounded, a job that usually fell to the wives of Cerrgonney lords for want of enough chirurgeons in the province. When noon came, they were both glad of the chance for a wash and the time to sit down over a light meal of bread and cheese.
“My thanks for your aid, Jill. You know quite a bit about chirurgery.”
“My lady is most welcome. I’ve seen a lot of bloodshed in my life.”
“So you must have, following your silver dagger around like this. He’s certainly a handsome man, isn’t he? I can see how he’d turn the head of a young lass, I truly do, but do you ever regret riding with him? You must have left a great deal behind for your Rhodry.”
“I didn’t, my lady. All I’ve ever known in my life is poverty. Rhodry has never let me starve, and well, that’s good enough for me.”
Camma stared, caught her rudeness, then gave Jill a small smile of apology. Jill decided that it was time to change the subject.
“Lord Perryn’s wound seems to be healing well. I’m awfully glad. After all, Rhodry owes his life to him.”
“So do we all.” For a moment, Camma’s face turned haggard. “Well, his clan breeds stubborn men, the stubbornest in all Cerrgonney, I swear, and that’s saying a great deal.”
“It is. Do you know his clan well?”
“I do. His aunt and mother are both cousins of mine, or I should say, his mother was, poor lamb. She died some years ago, you see, but Perryn’s Aunt Gwerna and I often meet. Gwerna had the raising of him, truly. He was the last of seven children, you see, and his mother was never truly well again after his birth. She had a hard time carrying him, some bleeding and bad pains, and then he was in her womb only seven months, not nine.”
“By the Goddess herself! I’m surprised the babe lived!”
“So were Gwerna and I. He was such a scrawny little thing, but healthier than any other early babe I’ve ever seen. Since his mother was so ill, Gwerna found a wet nurse, and she made the lass carry Perro in a kind of sling right against her breasts and under her dresses day and night for the warmth, you see, and the lass sat by the fire all day and slept by it at night, too. I think that’s what saved him, constantly being kept warm for a couple of months.” She paused, considering. “Maybe it was his hard start in life that made him so odd, the poor lad. Gwerna always called him the changeling. He made you think of all those old tales where the Wildfolk steal a human babe and leave one of their own in its stead.”
Jill felt an odd wondering whether, if in Perryn’s case, the old superstition might be true, but the gray gnome materialized on the table and gave Camma such a nasty sneer that it seemed to be heaping scorn on the very thought. It sat down by the trencher of cheese and rested its chin on its hands to listen as Camma went on.
“It’s naughty of me to be telling tales on him, now that he’s a man and grown, but if you’d seen him, you’d understand, Jill. Such a skinny little lad, and that red hair of his was always