The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [189]
“Disqualified!” yelled the nearest judge, and though they hated to do it—you could see it in their faces—the other two judges also called out, “Disqualified! The winner is Lord Sligyn.”
With a whoop of joy Peredyr rushed out to take Sligyn’s sword and shield like a page. Sligyn could hear Peredyr’s men as well as his own cheering and calling for wagers as he walked off the field, and the two silver daggers had joined them to celebrate, too. It was between him and Gwarryc now. Except for Sligyn’s tiny faction, by then the entire mob of onlookers, lord and riders alike, were strangely silent, looking back and forth at Gwarryc and Sligyn and muttering old proverbs, all of which centered around the way the gods take a dim view of presumption on the part of men. At that point the judges announced a long delay, to allow both contestants to rest and the servants to smooth out the contest ground. No one doubted that the delay would also allow Gwarryc and his supporters to regroup and regain their confidence after Retyc’s god-touched defeat.
“Let’s go well into the trees,” Peredyr said to Sligyn. “Rest in the shade, and I’ll get you cold water from the stream.”
“My thanks. I’ll admit to needing a bit of rest. Hah! the bastards! Their own delay’s working against them, eh?”
When Sligyn sat down in the relative privacy of the ash grove, he realized that he ached all over, and that his wind was going fast. Weil, by the gods, you gave the bastard a turn, anyway, he told himself. Teach him to put on little shows like a blasted gerthddyn, eh? Then he saw the blond silver dagger strolling toward him, and his heart thudded once. Jill! He cursed himself, wondering how he could have been so blind as to not recognize her earlier. With a grin and a bellow of welcome, he started to get up, but she rushed over and knelt beside him.
“Not so loud, my lord! We’ve got a little surprise planned for our Gwarryc and his friends.”
“Oh, do you now?” With great difficulty Sligyn made himself speak softly. “Is he here?”
“He is, and I wonder if he could take your place in the final round.”
Sligyn stopped himself from howling with glee just in time.
“He may at that, by all the gods! Here, that other lad with you—didn’t recognize him, either. It’s not—”
“Na, na, na, just a friend. He’s with Blaen—and quite a lot of men, actually—hidden in the woods up the road. Gwin’s gone to fetch them.”
“Peredyr ought to go make some formal excuse to the contest judges, eh? Or do we just let our lord walk out there?”
“Oh, just let him walk out, I’d say. There’s no use mincing around. They’ll know soon enough that the dragon’s flown home. And Nevyn’s here, too, or rather, he and a friend of his are close by. They’re planning on keeping out of sight till the shouting’s over.”
“Probably for the best, though I don’t know, the old man can be pretty impressive when he wants. What about your father?”
“He’s here. He wouldn’t miss this if you offered him the High King’s throne.”
When Peredyr came back with the water, he nearly wept at the sight of Jill. Once he heard what was afoot, he trotted off to round up his men and Sligyn’s and bring them back down to the trees on the pretence of fetching more ale and food and the like. Now that he knew he wouldn’t be fighting, Sligyn could at last have a good foaming tankard of ale, and as he drank it, he was feeling that the gods were in their heavenly duns and showering justice upon the world.
The contest was further delayed when Blaen and a warband of fifty men and a couple of captains rode round the dun and dismounted, calling out friendly greetings and jests as they led their horses over and joined the tourney. Although Talidd was as happy to see them as a miller finding weevils in his flour, there was nothing the lord could do, since he had no desire to insult a gwerbret by barring him and his from an open tourney. Sligyn was anxiously looking over the crowd around Blaen and trying to see Rhodry when he felt a friendly hand on his shoulder