The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [161]
As baffled as a cornered bear, he shook his head and growled aloud, then resumed his pacing. At least this water journey explained why scrying could find no trace of Rhodry. If they were far enough from land, the dark masters had no need of setting seals over their victim, because not even the greatest master of dweomer can scry over a large body of water, and especially not the ocean. The vast outpourings and upheavals of etheric force disrupt the images, as well as shielding whoever is trying to hide, rather as if someone were trying to use normal sight to peer through thick fog or smoke. As long as the Hawks kept Rhodry some miles out to sea, no dweomer in the world could find him.
“I suppose they’re somehow toying with us,” he remarked to the fat yellow gnome.
The gnome frowned in thought, then hopped up onto a wooden chest and began to pick its toes.
“We do have one hope,” Nevyn went on. “They may be planning on ransoming him or suchlike. If that’s true, then they’ll keep their foul hands off him, at least until they open the negotiations.”
The gnome turned its head, looked at him, and nodded to show it understood. Since this particular little creature had hung around him for many years, it was beginning to develop the rudiments of a mind. All at once it stiffened, then jumped to its feet and pointed at the door. Just as Nevyn turned there was a knock, and a page came in.
“My lady Lovyan wishes to know if you’re free, sir. Talidd of Belglaedd has just turned up at our door.”
“Then fetch the gwerbret’s lady to keep watch on her husband, and I’ll go down as soon as she arrives.”
Nevyn muttered a few choice curses under his breath, then steeled himself to face the scheming lord.
When he came into the great hall, he saw, much to his relief, that Talidd wasn’t the only guest at the table of honor. Lord Sligyn was there, sitting at the tieryn’s right hand, swilling ale and glaring at Talidd over the tankard. A stout, red-faced man in his mid-thirties, with a thick pair of blond mustaches, Sligyn rose with a bellow in Nevyn’s general direction.
“There you are, herbman! Come and talk some sense into this pigheaded fool of a noble lord.”
“I beg your pardon, my lord.” Talidd was on his feet in an instant.
“You blasted well should, eh? Spreading all this nonsense about our Rhodry.”
Talidd opened his mouth, glanced at Lovyan, and shut it again. Nevyn went cold, wondering if Talidd had somehow discovered the secret of Rhodry’s parentage. Dimly he was aware that across the hall, Cullyn had gotten up and taken a few steps their way.
“Will you both please sit down?” Lovyan said, and there was steel in her voice. “What nonsense, Sligyn?”
“That the lad’s dead.” Sligyn took his place on the bench again. “Don’t you try to deny it, either, Talidd. Heard you myself, eh? Nattering away at that tourney Peredyr gave. Pile of … uh, nonsense.”
Talidd winced and sat down fast, scrupulously avoiding Lovyan’s eye.
“Your Grace, forgive me if I distress you. I had a bit much ale that day, and I was only wondering why the king’s riders couldn’t find the lad if he were still alive.”
Sligyn started to blurt out an angry contradiction, but Nevyn laid a heavy hand on his shoulder to make him hold his tongue.
“I take no offense, my lord.” Lovyan sounded a bit weary and nothing more. “I’ve often wondered the same thing myself. Nevyn, do sit down! I can’t stand having you all hovering about.”
“My apologies, Your Grace.” He took a seat next to Sligyn. “As far as anyone can tell, Rhodry’s actively hiding from the king’s guard. I have no idea why.”
An odd look flickered on Talidd’s face, a hint of contempt, hastily stifled. Sligyn slammed his tankard down on the table and leaned forward.
“Out with it, man,” Sligyn snarled. “I’ve had enough of your foul sneers and mincing words. Out with it!”
Talidd’s face reddened.
“I was merely wondering, Lord Sligyn, just why he doesn’t want to be found. He’s been a silver dagger for years