The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [185]
“Your old da’s got somewhat to tell you,” Cullyn said at last. “I’ve married again.”
“Da! How splendid! Who is she? What’s she like?”
“Her name’s Tevylla, and she’s in the tieryn’s employ. She was widowed a while back—her first husband was a blacksmith, but he died of a fever—and she’s got a son that I’m training for the warband. He’s a good lad. Tewa’s a sensible sort, strong-minded, but then, she needs to be since she’s gone and married me.”
“Is she pretty?”
Cullyn considered for a moment, smiling a little.
“She is,” he said at last. “Truly, you could say so.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
“You do sound it, truly.” He turned a little to study her face in the flickering lantern light.
“Did you think I wouldn’t be?” For a moment she was puzzled; then she realized his drift. “Well, truly, once I would have been writhing with jealousy—I’ll admit it—when we were still on the long road together and all, but not now. After all, I’m about to marry, too.”
“So you are. You know, my sweet, it’s an odd thing. I’ve heard you mention that marriage a couple of times now, and …” He let his voice trail away.
“And what?”
“Ah, you won’t be wanting your old father’s advice anymore. None of my cursed business. I’ve got to learn to keep my long nose out of your affairs.”
“Come on, tell me. What is it, Da?”
“You never sound very happy about it, that’s all. There’s just somewhat in your voice.”
Tears threatened, hot and shaming. He threw his arms around her and pulled her close, her same old comfortable father, smelling of sweat and horses like he always had.
“Are you frightened?” he said softly. “All those fine ladies mincing around, waiting to get their claws into the gwerbret’s favorite? Or is it the intrigue, the noble lords and their feuding and jockeying for favor and all?”
“Both. I’m not like Lovyan or Blaen’s wife. They were born to all this. I wasn’t. But … but … it’s not that I’m frightened.” Safe in his arms she could think clearly for the first time in weeks. “It’s that I’m going to hate it. Courtly affairs look so petty, Da, after you’ve started studying dweomer. The noble-born are just children squabbling over toys, and smashing things when they don’t get their way, and them all with their noses in the air, thinking they’re the favorites of the gods themselves.” She drew a little away so she could look up at him. “Do you remember Tieryn Braedd, and the war over pig food, all those years ago—the first summer you took me with you?”
He thought for a long moment, then laughed.
“I do at that,” he said, chuckling. “You know, my sweet, you always were a cursed lot like me. I hope it’s your boon and not your bane, I truly do.”
At first she laughed; then she went a little cold as she realized that he wasn’t going to contradict her, that, in fact, he agreed with her opinion of court life. She would have said more, but all at once he let her go and listened, his head cocked to one side. She’d spent so many weeks living in fear of assassins that she automatically reached for her sword, but it was only Nevyn, calling to them as he hurried out to the earthwork wall.
“Cullyn, Jill, is that you up there?”
“It is, my lord,” Cullyn called back. “Is aught wrong?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Have you seen Perryn?”
“Not since the evening meal.” Cullyn glanced at Jill, who shook her head in a no. “No more has Jill, my lord. Here, we’ll come down. Has the little bastard escaped?”
“It certainly looks like it, although I wouldn’t call it an escape. He isn’t a prisoner anymore, not as far as I’m concerned.”
“But did he know that?” Jill put in.
“Most likely not. It would be just like him to slip away in the night like a cursed weasel!