The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [102]
“Ye gods! And what did he have to say for himself?”
“Well, he’d heard everyone calling him the changeling, and so he got it into his head that he should go live with the Wildfolk where he belonged. But I never found any, he says, the poor little lad. Poor Gwerna, she wept over that, and even Benoic stopped being so hard on him—well, for a while, anyway.”
Jill would have liked to hear more, but the object of these reminiscences came strolling over to the table. The gnome snarled at him, then disappeared.
“Perro, you should be in your bed,” Camma said. “One of the servants can bring you a meal.”
“It’s cursed dull, lying abed. I’ll be fine.”
Cradling his sling-supported arm, Perryn sat down across the table from Jill. Under his eyes were dark shadows like smears of soot.
“My lord,” Jill said, “you truly should be resting.”
“I’ll never mend shut up like a hog in a pen. I want to go out to the woods, sit out there for a while.”
Coupled with Camma’s tale, his request made an odd sort of sense. Out of duty to the man who’d saved Rhodry’s life, Jill saddled up his gray gelding, helped him mount, then led the horse out of the dun. Out in the fields, only part of the earthwork still stood; the day before, Benoic’s men had dumped the bodies of the slain into the ditch and filled it in with the mound above. They walked beyond this grim scar on the earth to the edge of the forest and found a spot among the scattered pines where the ground was cushioned with needles and the sunlight came down in shafts. With a sigh of pleasure, Perryn sat down, his back to a tree. He actually did seem stronger now that he was outside, with color in his face and life in his eyes.
“It’s splendid of you to trouble yourself over me, Jill.”
“Oh, hardly! I owe you many an honor for saving Rhodry.”
“You don’t, at that. I made that ride for Nedd’s sake and my own. What was I to do? Lie there and let them kill me? I wasn’t even thinking of Rhodry, so there’s no need for thanks.”
“I’ve never known anyone who thinks like you. You’re as scrupulous as a priest.”
“Everyone says that. I wanted to be a priest, you know. My uncle got into a temper over it, and my father just laughed.”
“Well, I can’t see Benoic allowing one of his kinsmen to serve Bel instead of the sword.”
“Oh, not Bel. I wanted to be a priest of Kerun, but I couldn’t even find a temple of his.”
Jill was quite surprised. She knew little of Rerun’s worship, except that he was one of the dark gods of the Dawntime who had been displaced as the temples of Bel and Nudd grew in power. The stag god was lord of the hunt, while Bel presided over the settled life of the growing grain. Vaguely she remembered that you were supposed to give the first deer taken in a new year to Kerun, but she doubted if anyone bothered anymore.
“He’s a splendid god,” Perryn remarked.
“So are all the gods,” Jill said, in case any were listening.
“Oh, truly, but Kerun’s the only one who … oh, er,