The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [75]
“Well, why not?” Nevyn said. “It’ll keep the lasses safe from the king’s riders. Or do you want fights all winter long?”
“But what of those innocent children?”
“Let us profoundly hope that they’re sound sleepers.”
After the evening meal Nevyn went out to visit Maddyn in the barracks. When he came into the long room, dimly lit by firelight, he had to pause for a moment and catch his breath at the combined reek of horse, man sweat, and smoke. Most of the men were playing dice; the women huddled at the far end to gossip among themselves while the babies slept nearby. At the hearth Maddyn, Caradoc, and Caudyr sat on the floor and talked, while Owaen lay nearby, stretched out on his stomach with his head pillowed on his arms. Although he seemed asleep, he looked up briefly when Maddyn introduced him to Nevyn, then went back to watching the fire.
“Come sit down,” Caudyr said, sliding over a bit to make room. “It gladdens my heart to see you again. I thought that a sorcerer like you would have more important work at hand than selling herbs.”
“Oh, the herbs are important in their own way, too, lad. Now tell me, how did you end up with that silver dagger in your belt?”
For a long while Caudyr, Maddyn, and Nevyn talked of old times, while Caradoc listened with close attention and Owaen fell asleep. At length the talk turned inevitably to Nevyn’s strange employment in the king’s palace. Nevyn put them off with vague questions until Caradoc joined in.
“Here, good sorcerer, what’s the dweomer doing hiring a piss-poor bunch of men like us? I think me we’ve got a right to know, since you’re asking us to die for the prince as like as not.”
“Now here, Captain, I’m not asking a thing of you. The prince is the one who gives you meat and mead.”
“Horseshit. The prince does what you tell him, at least when somewhat important’s at stake.” He exchanged a glance with Maddyn. “I was impressed with the lad, very impressed, you might say.”
“Indeed?”
When Caradoc hesitated, Maddyn leaned forward.
“You’ve found the true king, haven’t you? Admit it, Nevyn. That lad has to be the true king, or no one on earth ever will be.”
Although he wanted to whoop and dance in triumph, Nevyn restrained himself to a small, cryptic smile.
“Tell me, Captain,” he said casually. “How would you feel about leading your men all the way to Dun Deverry someday?”
Caradoc pulled his silver dagger and held it point up to catch the wink and glint of firelight.
“This is the only honor any of us have left, and I’ll swear you an oath on it. Either I see the king on his throne, or I die over the prince’s body.”
“And you’re willing to die for a man you saw for the first time today?”
“Why not? Better than dying for some little pusboil of an arrogant minor lord.” With a laugh, he sheathed the dagger. “And when does the war begin?”
“Soon, Captain. Very soon.”
Smiling to himself, Caradoc nodded. Nevyn felt like weeping. He could see in the captain’s berserker eyes the bloody price they would all pay for victory.
Since everyone in Eldidd knew about the silver daggers, the news that they’d left for Pyrdon spread fast. It was just his luck, Branoic decided, that they’d move on just when he needed to find them. Even though a single rider could travel faster than a troop with a baggage train, they had a head start of some ten nights, and he never caught them on the road. After one last cold night of sleeping outside because he couldn’t afford an inn, he rode into Drwloc around noon and found a cheap tavern, where he spent his last two coppers on a tankard of ale and a chunk of bread. He ate standing up with his back to the wall while he kept an eye on the other patrons, who were a scruffy lot to his way of thinking. As soon as the trade would allow, the serving lass minced over to him with a suggestive little smile. Unwashed and skinny, she appealed to him about as much as the flea-bitten hounds by the hearth, but he decided that he might as well get some information out