The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [130]
He found a shabby tavern whose owner agreed to let him sleep in the hayloft of the stable out back for a couple of coppers. After he stabled his horse, he went back in and got the best dinner the place offered—mutton stew lensed with grease and served with stale bread to sop up the gravy. He took it to a table where he could keep his back to the wall and looked over the other patrons while he ate. Most of them looked like honest workingmen, gathered there to have a tankard while they chewed over the local gossip, but one of them might have been a traveler like himself, a tall fellow with straight dark hair and skin colored like a walnut shell that bespoke some Bardek blood in his veins. Once or twice, Rhodry caught the fellow looking at him curiously, and when he’d finished eating, the fellow strolled over to him with a tankard in his hand.
“Have you come from the north, silver dagger?”
“I have at that. Why?”
“That’s the way I’m heading. I was wondering what the roads are like up in Gwaentaer.”
“Now, that I can’t tell you, because I came down on a barge.”
“A good way to travel when you’re coming downriver, but not so good going up. Well, my thanks, anyway.” Yet he lingered for a moment, as if wondering about something, then finally sat down. “You know, a silver dagger did me a favor once, a while back, and I wouldn’t mind returning it to a fellow member of his band.” He dropped his voice to a murmur. “You look like you hail from Eldidd.”
“I do.”
“You wouldn’t be Rhodry of Aberwyn, would you?”
“I am. Here, where did you hear my name?”
“Oh, it’s all over the south. That’s what I mean about returning a favor. Let me give you a tip, like. It seems that every misbegotten gwerbret has riders out looking for you. I’d head west if I were you.”
“What? By the black ass of the Lord of Hell, what are they looking for me for?”
The fellow leaned closer.
“There’s been a charge laid against you by a Tieryn Aegwyc up in Cerrgonney. He claims you took his brother’s head in battle.”
Instantly, Rhodry understood—or thought he did. No doubt Graemyn had put the blame on him in order to reach a settlement in the peace treaty. After all, who would believe a silver dagger’s word against that of a lord?
“Ye gods! I did no such thing!”
“It’s of no matter to me. But like I say, you’d best be careful which way you ride.”
“You have my thanks from the bottom of my heart.”
All that evening, Rhodry kept one eye on the tavern door. If that charge stood up in a gwerbretal court, he would be beheaded as the holy laws demanded. Fortunately, his years on the long road had taught him many a thing about avoiding trouble. He could no longer ride the barges south, not when they could be called to the bank at any point by the king’s guard and searched. He would have to slip south on back roads and, of course, lie about his name. Cerrmor itself was big enough so that he’d be able to stay unknown for at least a day or two. Once he found Jill, he’d have a witness on his side. Besides, he reminded himself, Nevyn’s there too. Even a gwerbret would listen when the old man spoke.
In the morning, he rode out the east gate to plant a false trail. Much later, when it was too late, he realized that Tieryn Benoic would never have been party to such a falsehood.
“Someone worked you over good and proper, lad,” said Gwel the leech. “Who was it?”
“Oh, er, ah, well,” Perryn mumbled. “A silver dagger.”
“Indeed? Well, it’s a foolish man who earns a silver dagger’s wrath.”
“I … er … know that now.”
In the polished mirror hanging on the wall of the leech’s shop, Perryn could see his face, still blue, green, and swollen.
“You should have had this broken tooth out long before this,” Gwel said.
“True-spoken, but I couldn’t ride until a couple of days ago. He broke some of my ribs, too.”
“I see. Well, you give silver daggers a wide berth after this.”
“You have my sworn word on that.”
Having the tooth pulled was more painful than having it broken, since it took