The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [180]
“Done, Your Grace. Oh, and if I may be so bold, congratulations on the birth of your son. The King’s herald came through Aberwyn with the news about three weeks ago.”
“My thanks.” Blaen allowed himself a small smile. “I’ll admit to being pleased myself.”
Lord Sibyr’s dun was small and fortified only in the sketchiest sense; a low earthen wall enclosed a stone broch and some outbuildings standing on about two acres of land. Since Sibyr owed direct fealty to the gwerbrets of Abernaudd and thus would retreat to his city in time of war, and he also received his income from properties scattered all over the rhan, he didn’t need to live in a stronghold. In fact, the dun reminded Blaen of some merchants’ holdings: the graceful tower, made of imported pinkish stone, was flanked by two equally graceful half-brochs and set round with beautiful gardens. As the gwerbret and his men dismounted in the cobbled court in front of the main broch, Blaen was wondering if he should offer to go stay in an inn just to spare his cousin the trouble of housing real warriors. Yet when Sibyr hurried out to greet him, his welcome was warm enough. A tall, slender man with a fringe of gray hair round his well-shaped skull, Sibyr shook Blaen’s hand vigorously and yelled for pages to come tend his men.
“Gome in, cousin, come in! It gladdens my heart to welcome you to our humble little home. Haven’t seen you since your wedding, eh?”
“Has it been that long? Well, truly it has. I suppose you’ve heard …”
“About the new heir? I have, and my congratulations indeed.”
Sibyr’s great hall was as luxurious as his gardens. Its floor was covered with mosaics in the Bardek fashion, and its walls were hung with tapestries from the islands. They sat down in cushioned chairs at the table of honor and drank white wine served in blue glass goblets.
“There must be a quite a lot of the Bardek trade coming through the city,” Blaen said.
“There is, and a boon it is to everyone. Of course, in this new charter the High King’s granted Aberwyn a bigger share of it.”
“Ah. That must irk some of your local merchants.”
Although Blaen was only speaking casually, Sibyr went tense, cocking his head to one side to study his cousin as if he were wondering just what his implication might be.
“No offense meant,” Blaen said, all cool courtesy.
“None taken on my part, but there are some who might. It’s more than the merchants in Abernaudd who prosper on the Bardek trade.”
Blaen smiled and had a sip of the excellent wine. So—there were some lords who might welcome trouble in Aberwyn. The question was, would they actively support it or merely look the other way? It was not a question that he cared to ask openly, especially not of a man who’d made him welcome at his table.
“And how long will we have the honor of sheltering you?” Sibyr said.
“I honestly don’t know. Not long enough for me to become a nuisance, I’m sure. Actually, I’m waiting for news, and it should be arriving here about noon. I took the liberty of telling the news-bringer that he could find me here. I hope that’s acceptable?”
“Of course. Treat my house as your own.”
Just at noon Cullyn of Cerrmor strode in, bringing with him a small man with snow-white hair that rose above his forehead in two peaks like the horns of a silver owl. Although Sibyr most courteously offered them seats at the table of honor, Blaen managed to find them a private spot, just up the central stairway and round a corner of the landing, where they could talk without being overheard.
“This is Aderyn, Your Grace,” Cullyn said. “A trusted friend of Nevyn’s indeed.”
“I’m honored to meet you, then, good sir.” Blaen made the old man a half-bow. “What news do you have for me?”
“Not much as concerns Rhodry, Your Grace. I have the strong and distinct feeling that he