The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [143]
Finally he’d done what he could do. Propped up on pillows, Rhys lay gasping for every breath he drew on the enormous bed, with its blue-and-silver hangings, worked all over with the dragon symbol of the rhan. His raven-dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and when he opened his eyes, they were cloudy.
“Will I live?”
“That depends on you to a large degree, Your Grace. Are you going to fight to live?”
Rhys smiled, as if saying that the question was superfluous, then fainted. With a sigh, Nevyn went to the chamber door to let in his wife, who had patiently waited all the long hours. She gave him a tremulous smile, then ran to her husband’s side.
“If he looks the least bit worse, send a page for me immediately, my lady. I’m going down to the great hall to eat.”
“I will, good herbman. My thanks.”
Nevyn came into a somber hall. The warbands ate silently; the servants moved among them without saying a word. Alone at the head of the honor table, Lovyan was picking at a bit of roast fowl, eating a bite, then laying her table dagger down and staring into space. He sat down at her right hand.
“You should try to eat, Your Grace.”
“Of course, but everything tastes like dirt from the stable yard. I’ve sent a messenger off to Dun Gwerbyn to fetch my serving women. I rather feel the need of them.”
“Just so. As regent you’ll have much serious business to attend to.”
A servant came with a trencher of fowl and cabbage, as well as a tankard of ale. Hoping he wouldn’t offend Lovyan, Nevyn set to. He was hungry after his hard afternoon’s work. She choked down a bit of bread like a dutiful child.
“I also sent a speeded courier to Dun Deverry,” she remarked. “He’ll go by ship to Cerrmor, then ride from there.”
“Good, but truly, I think I’ll send a message of my own. The king needs to know of this before … as soon as possible, and my messages travel faster than horses.”
“No doubt.” She shuddered like a wet dog. “Tell me the truth, my friend. When you slipped and said ‘before,’ you meant before Rhys dies, didn’t you?”
“I’m afraid I did. My apologies. It may take weeks, but …”
She nodded, staring at her trencher, then suddenly pushed it away. Although she seemed on the verge of tears, she tossed her head and sat up straight, looking at him steadily.
“Let’s lie to his poor little wife,” she said. “Let her have a bit of hope. It’s hard to be widowed when you’ve only been a wife for a year.”
“So it is, and I agree. Besides, the gods may intervene and let him live. I’ve seen one or two cases where I’d given up hope, only to have the patient recover.”
“Well and good, then.” Yet her weary voice implied that such a hope was one that she would deny herself. “And what of that accident? There wasn’t even a fly buzzing round his horse.”
“So I thought, from what your messenger told me.” He hesitated, wondering how much to say. “I’m not truly sure what happened, but I’ve made a few guesses. I suppose that poor beast was put out of its misery?”
“It was. The riders told me that it would have been in agony the whole way back to the dun, so they slit its throat and gave the meat to a nearby farmer.”
“Well, I doubt if it could have told me much, anyway.”
“Here, can you speak with animals?”
“Not in the least, my lady, I assure you. But I might have done a thing or two and judged its reactions. Well, as I say, doubtless naught would have come of it, anyway. Here’s what I’ve been thinking. Most animals have what men call the second sight—that is, they can see the Wildfolk and a few kinds of apparitions. It’s possible that the horse was frightened by malicious Wildfolk or by some sort of vision.”
“A vision? A ghost or suchlike?”
“Or suchlike. There’s never been a report of a ghost or banshee along the river road before, and they’re generally tied to one place.”
“I’ve never heard reports