The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [6]
“Never ever do that again,” the old man said.
“But he had a knife. He was nasty, Gran.”
“I know. I saw it all from the window. You waited until he was helpless, and that’s dishonorable. Well, didn’t you?”
The child hung her head in shame.
“What a sweet little poppet you have in your charge, Mistress Tevylla,” Nevyn said. “She’s Rhodry’s daughter, sure enough.”
“She’s a handful at times, truly, but here, good sir, you can’t be saying that she did all that.” Tevylla pointed with one clog at the bleeding man on the ground.
“You’ll have to take it on faith that she did, and you too, captain. Come here, Rhodda. I’m going to talk to you, and then we’re all going to go see your grandmother. Cullyn, drag that young dog along to the great hall.”
When Nevyn left, Tevylla started after, but the old man irritably waved her away. Trembling a little, as if the shock had finally just caught up to her, she lingered to watch while Cullyn knelt down, grabbing Bryc by the shoulders and flopping him over like a caught fish. In his pain the lad cried out and stared up at the captain in bewilderment. Something was wrong with Bryc’s eyes, or so Cullyn thought of it. He’d never seen any man look so bewildered, so utterly lost and confused, as if his very eyes themselves had clouded over until he stared without truly seeing a thing.
“Here, lad, have you gone blind?”
“Not at all, but, captain, where am I? My wrist!” Whimpering from the effort, he held up his broken hand and stared at the blood running. “Did I fall? Did the dogs do this to me? What is this?” His voice rose to an utterly sincere hysterical wail. “Tell me, for the love of the gods! What am I doing here like this?”
Cullyn grabbed him again, but this time to steady him.
“Hold your tongue, lad. I’ll explain in a bit. Can you stand? We’ve got to go see old Nevyn about this.”
“The herbman? Oh truly.” His voice was a bare whisper. “It was like being asleep, then waking.”
“Indeed? Well, come along. You’re safe now.”
Even though he’d spoken without thinking, Cullyn suddenly went cold, knowing that he’d told the truth, that Bryc had been in as much danger as the child. Tevylla caught her breath in a gasp.
“How do you fare, lass?” Cullyn said.
“Well enough, captain. I just remembered somewhat.”
“And it was?”
“I won’t tell anyone but Nevyn, but I think me I’d best tell him straightway.”
Since as regent it was one of Lovyan’s duties to administer the laws of the gwerbretrhyn, Nevyn had her convene their private hearing in the chamber of justice, yet they were a scruffy little crew among the splendors. On the wall hung the dragon banners of Aberwyn and the golden sword of justice; the massive oak table and the high-backed gwerbretal chair stood on a floor made of slate tiles, inlaid in a key pattern, but Lovyan perched on the edge of the chair with Rhodda in her lap, while Nevyn had Bryc sit on the table itself so that he could bind the lad’s wrist as everyone gave their testimony. To Lovyan’s right Tevylla sat on a low bench with Cullyn hovering behind her. Once the testimony was over, the tieryn gave her granddaughter a little squeeze.
“Oh ye gods,” Lovyan said. “It seems obvious this lad tried to kill our Rhodda, and yet somewhat makes me doubt his guilt.”
“Quite so, Your Grace,” Nevyn said. “To be precise, his body was being used for the attempt, but his soul and mind are blameless. Now, Tewa, what’s this urgent story you have to tell?”
“This morning when I woke, my lord, I had what I thought was a strange dream. Have you ever had one of those dreams where you think you’re wide awake? Our chamber, Rhodda’s cot, the hearth—it all looked exactly right, and dawn was coming in the window, but when I tried to move, I couldn’t, and I realized that I was still asleep.”
“Dreams of that sort do happen.” Nevyn finished binding the lad’s wrist and turned to look