The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [148]
“Oh, um, performing in the marketplace.” But Salamander had gone dead-white. “I’m a gerthddyn, after all, and Jill was a good draw just by being a blonde barbarian lass.”
At the word “marketplace” a crowd of Wildfolk materialized: sprites swooping through the air, gnomes leaping and dancing, and in a shuddering curtain of purple light the Wildfolk of Aethyr made their presence known. Faint thunder boomed.
“You didn’t!” Nevyn turned as grim as a berserker.
“Er well, I can’t lie. I did.”
“May the Great Ones rend your soul! You stupid chattering elf! Real dweomer in the marketplace?” Nevyn stopped talking and started sputtering in sheer rage.
“My lord?” Rhodry broke in. “But it saved all our lives. Gwin told me that the Hawks never even suspected who Evan was until it was too late.”
“And that statement, Rhodry lad, has just saved your scapegrace brother’s life—from me. Still, I’ve more to say on this subject. Salamander, come with me, will you?”
Since Nevyn grabbed his arm and hauled him up with a grip as strong as a blacksmith’s, Salamander had little choice about it. Berating him all the while Nevyn dragged him out into the corridor, and Rhodry could hear the old man’s voice for a long time before they moved out of earshot.
When he finished packing, Rhodry went down to the inn yard, where Amyr, Gwin, and the rest of the warband were milling around, waiting for his orders. Although Rhodry still didn’t recognize the men from Eldidd, with Jill’s coaching he’d learned their names and enough small things about them to hide his lack of memory. Amyr, in particular, he had reason to remember, because according to Jill that young rider had helped save his life in battle some years back—not that Rhodry could recall a single thing about it. Yet oddly enough, although he remembered no concrete details like names or places or battles, he did remember being a lord, just as he remembered how comfortable and masculine it was to wear brigga rather than a tunic now that he had a pair of trousers back on. Since he was heading a warband again, and every man in it was treating him with utter deference, all the feelings of leadership returned to him, from the easy pride to the hard worrying about their safety, as well as a way of standing and holding his head, a way of smiling even, that Rhodry the slave footman would never have dared allow himself, indeed, that he would never have recalled. When Amyr came forward to bow to him, he smiled and raised one hand in a gesture that felt familiar even though he couldn’t consciously remember learning it. No doubt, it occurred to him, he was aping his mother’s husband, the noble-born man who’d raised him, in some way.
“Do we ride out today, my lord?” Amyr said.
“We do. Amyr, you’re going to be the captain for this ride, and always remember that we’re heading for the strangest battle of our lives. If you notice anyone acting strange, brooding, maybe, or saying things that don’t make sense, tell Nevyn straightaway. From what Jill’s. been telling me, our enemies can work on men’s minds from a long way away.”
“I’ll stay on guard then, my lord. Shall I get the men saddled up and ready to ride?”
“Do that.”
As the others hurried off, Rhodry noticed Gwin, standing a little ways apart and looking a little bewildered, as if he had no idea of how he fit into this new order of things.
“Gwin? I’ve been thinking. There’s no reason for you to ride with the rest of the warband—you don’t truly belong there. Will you be my bodyguard from now on?”
Nodding his agreement, Gwin studied the ground for a moment, then looked up and smiled at him with an affection that went far beyond the deference of a rider to his sworn lord. Rhodry knew that Gwin loved him; he was touched at times, embarrassed at others, but always he had more than one reason to be grateful to him—of that, he was painfully aware. He gave Gwin a friendly slap on the shoulder.
“Come ride next to me, will you?”
“I will. My thanks.”
“Welcome enough. You’ve got to be at the head