The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [138]
“We do. I’ll just call the lad to tend to your horses, sir.”
“Splendid. The first things we shall want are baths.”
But they had to postpone this by now necessary luxury for some time. When Jill followed Salamander into the tavern room, which had Bardek carpets on the floor and silver sconces on the walls, she saw a tall man in the plaid brigga of the noble-born pacing back and forth near the hearth. The sight of him wrung her heart, because Blaen looked so much like her Rhodry.
“That’s Gwerbret Blaen!” she said.
“Of course. He’s the one who’s meeting us here.”
“He doesn’t know about … well, about Perryn, does he?”
“Of course not! Don’t you think I have any respect for your honor? Leave that part of this to me.”
As they walked over, Blaen saw them and strode to meet them. Although Salamander made him a courtly bow, he barely returned it, instead catching Jill’s hand and giving it a hard squeeze.
“It gladdens my heart to see you, Jill, though it’d gladden it more if Rhodry were with you.” He looked around and found the tavernman staring gape-mouthed at the sight of the gwerbret greeting a silver dagger as an old friend. “Innkeep! Send up a flagon of your best mead to their chambers! And a plate of cold meats, too.”
The chambers justified Jill’s worst fears about expense. Not only were they carpeted, but all the furniture was beautifully polished wood, as heavily carved with interlace as anything in a lord’s dun. The flagon and the plate, both silver, arrived promptly. Blaen handed the servant lass coins worth twice what the refreshments cost and dismissed her peremptorily.
“Now,” said the gwerbret, pouring himself a gobletful. “Lord Madoc’s told me, gerthddyn, that you know how to do more things than spin tales, so you can speak freely. Do you know where Rhodry is?”
“Almost to Cerrmor. In fact …” He paused to glance out the window to check the sun. “I’d say he’s in Cerrmor at the moment. But why is he there? That, alas, I cannot say, Your Grace.”
“No more can anyone, apparently, curse them all.” Blaen glanced at Jill. “Pour yourself some mead, silver dagger. You’ve had quite a journey. By the way, Jill, how did Rhodry come to leave you behind?”
“Ah, Your Grace, that’s a strange tale indeed.” Salamander broke in smoothly. “Rhodry was on a hire in Cerrgonney, you see.”
“I’d heard somewhat about Benoic and his unlovely kin.”
“Well and good, then. Well, Rhodry had left Jill at the dun of a certain Lord Nedd, the man he rode for, but he never came back for her. Fortunately I came along—I’d been looking for her for reasons of my own, you see. I scried Rhodry out and found him riding south. I refuse to believe that he simply deserted her.”
“No more do I.” Blaen pledged her with his goblet. “Don’t think that for a moment, lass.”
Jill forced out a brave smile.
“So, after much thought, brooding, and ratiocination, I arrived at the conclusion that someone, for reasons most recondite and unknown, was luring Rhodry south. We have a hint or two that he was told that Jill had left him and was coming after her. Be that as it may, he’s been acting like a hunted man all the way south from Lughcarn, while before that he traveled openly. Either somewhat happened to him in Lughcarn, or someone told him a falsehood of some sort.”
“That would stand to reason, truly.” Blaen sighed and drank heavily. “I’ll wager this has somewhat to do with the situation in Aberwyn. You know Rhodry has enemies, don’t you?”
“We do, Your Grace. Has the king made a decision as yet about a recall?”
Jill turned away and busied herself with pouring a goblet of mead. She wished that she could simply drink herself into forgetting that Rhodry was being taken away from her.
“Jill,” Blaen said. “You look heartsick.”
“Why shouldn’t I be, Your Grace? I’m losing my man. Do you think they’ll let Rhodry marry a woman like me?”
“I see no reason why not, once I’ve done ennobling you. I’m settling land in your name over in Cwm Pecl. The gods all know that there’s plenty to spare in my province.”
“Your Grace!” Jill could barely