The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [106]
“Old Drwmyc, you mean?” Cadryc said. “A good blood-line, then.”
“Isn’t she older than Ridvar, though?” Branna said.
“By a few years, but not too many.” Galla considered for a moment. “I don’t remember when she was born, but if she were too old, she’d have been married already.”
“True spoken, with the alliances she brings,” Cadryc said. “Neb, I’ll need you to write some sort of fancy reply to his grace. Of course we’ll all go. It gladdens my heart that our gwerbret’s doing his duty to rhan and clan.”
“Mine, too,” Mirryn said. “Now let’s hope he gets the lass with child, and quickly.”
“Just that,” Galla put in. “May the gods grant she’s not barren! This is exciting, I must say! Branna, just think—mayhap we’ll get to see our Adranna at the wedding.”
“Well, now.” Cadryc raised one hand. “Don’t get your hopes up, my love. Ridvar won’t be able to invite every lord in the rhan. His dun won’t hold that many guests, and ye gods, can you imagine the grumbling if he asked some of them to quarter in the town? He’ll have enough trouble housing all the tierynau as it is, to say naught of Drwmigga’s clan.”
Galla’s face fell. “You’re doubtless right.” Her voice wavered slightly. “I do hope she’s well.”
“Well, how about this?” Cadryc said. “We won’t be all that far from her husband’s wretched dun. Mayhap we can ride north after the wedding and pay her a visit.”
Galla and Branna both beamed at him. “We’ll have Neb write her a letter,” Cadryc said, “once we’re in Cengarn, and it’s a shorter ride for the messenger.”
“My thanks,” Galla said. “Now I can truly enjoy myself at this wedding.”
“I suppose,” Mirryn said, “I’ll be left behind here.”
“Someone has to hold fort guard, lad.” Cadryc paused to smile at him. “Here, you’re the one who’ll be in the most danger this time. I’m entitled to an escort of twenty-five for the wedding, but I think I’ll take fewer men than that, so I can leave you more. I wouldn’t put it past the cursed Horsekin to try to siege the place while I’m gone.”
Mirryn bit back angry words, took a sip of ale, and then managed a brief smile. “True enough,” he said.
Still, they glared at each other, and the mood hung over the table like a swarm of angry bees. Branna leaned forward and changed the subject.
“Ridvar’s betrothed—what’s she like? I’ve never even seen her. Have you, Uncle?”
“I’ve not.” Cadryc shrugged his shoulders. “Doesn’t much matter. He can always blow the candle out.”
The men all laughed, but Lady Galla and Branna exchanged a sour smile.
“She’s a good-looking lass, actually, my lord,” Neb said. “I used to see her, riding with her father through our town. Eldidd-dark hair and dark blue eyes, and she’s slender though not dainty.”
“Good.” Cadryc turned to him. “I forgot you come from Trev Hael. Well, it gladdens my heart that the lad’s marrying, but I’ll admit I was hoping for news of that blasted gerthddyn. Call me daft if you want, but I just keep thinking he’s on to some important thing that will help our gwerbret change his mind.”
“Let’s pray so,” Mirryn said.
“You don’t sound convinced, lad.”
“I’m not.” It was Mirryn’s turn to shrug. “But he’s the only hound in our pack that’s picked up any scent at all. Might as well let him follow it down.”
Salamander may have been on the trail of a metaphoric scent, but he was also hopelessly lost. If Rocca was following any sort of marked trail, he couldn’t tell what it was or if they were on it. He needed to do more than just reach the Horsekin dun. He needed to be able to lead an army back to it. During the odd moments when he could contact Dallandra, he would describe whatever bit of the wilderness they had camped in, but he doubted if anyone was going to be able to tell one clearing among trees from another. Finally, after they’d gone straight west for some hours only to turn south to avoid the evil spirits in a particular ravine, he grew exasperated enough to ask her point blank if she were lost.
“Lost? Me?” Rocca laughed in her usual merry way. “Your eyes yet cannot find the marks along this