The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [157]
“Welcome, I’m sure. Huh. I never did like Lord Honelg much. Neb, truly, I think it’s best that—”
“Oh, very well!” Neb’s tone of voice was more frost than graciousness. “As long as I’m riding with her, I suppose I can’t object.”
“You might have told me that,” Branna snapped.
“You never gave me a chance,” Neb said.
Branna set her hands on her hips, and for a long awkward moment the pair scowled each other. Ye gods, Gerran thought, I’m cursed glad I’m not the one marrying her! Aloud, he said, “Let’s go broach this idea to our tieryn.”
They found Cadryc and Galla as well up in their chamber. The lady was sitting in a chair by the window, and her husband was perched on the windowsill next to her. Judging from Galla’s pale face and the damp handkerchief she was clutching, she’d been weeping, but she put on a brave smile.
“Aunt Galla?” Branna said. “Grant me a boon. I want to ride with the warband and plead with Honelg to let the women in the dun come out.”
Galla’s smile disappeared.
“Absolutely not!” Cadryc snapped. “Your aunt’s distressed quite enough as it is, lass. I’m not letting you ride into danger.”
“Well, Gerran thinks it’s a good idea,” Branna said.
“Truly, my lord,” Gerran said. “Her betrothed will be along, and that Westfolk woman, too. We can keep her safe.”
Galla’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to dab them away, then crumpled the useless handkerchief and hurled it to the floor. Cadryc patted her shoulder.
“I shan’t allow it, my dear,” the tieryn said. “Don’t trouble your heart.”
“But, Uncle Cadryc!” Branna’s voice rose to a wail. “What about Adranna?”
“The gwerbret’s got a perfectly good herald. He can do the pleading.”
“The herald’s going to be all formal and reasonable. He can’t put the heart into it that I can. After all, I’m her kinswoman.”
“True enough, and that’s why you’re staying with your aunt.” Cadryc glanced at Neb. “What do you think?”
Neb hesitated, glancing back and forth between Branna and the tieryn. Gerran found it in his heart to pity him. Finally Neb took a deep breath as if he were summoning courage. “I think,” Neb said, “that she should stay here, my lord, and begging your pardon and all that, Gerran.”
Branna opened her mouth to speak, but Cadryc crossed his arms over his chest and glared her into silence. “Your betrothed has bade you nay, and I’ve bade you nay,” Cadryc said, “and that’s the end of it.”
Gerran considered arguing further, but he’d seen Cadryc in this mood before. “Well, our liege lord’s spoken,” he said to Branna. “But it was a generous thing for you to offer.”
When she glanced Neb’s way, Branna’s expression hovered on the edge of rage. She was most likely thinking up some nasty remark, but Galla got up and walked over to take her hand.
“Please stay,” Galla said. “I can’t bear to lose both you and Adranna, and who knows what will happen in a siege?”
Branna let out her breath in a long sigh. “Oh, very well,” she said. “Since you asked.”
Once again Gerran found himself glad that she’d taken Neb instead of him. A hellcat, sure enough, he thought. I’ll wager our scribe’s in for a long cold night! He decided that he’d best leave the noble-born to sort things out in private.
“My lord?” Gerran said. “May I have your leave to go?”
“By all means.” Cadryc managed a ghost of a smile. “There are times when a man needs to retreat, eh? Too bad I can’t go with you.”
As Gerran went downstairs, he was thinking that Branna could well be right about the herald, and the thought brought him an idea. He found Salamander sitting over on the riders’ side of the hall, drinking ale and flirting with the prettiest of the serving lasses. Gerran unceremoniously sat down beside him and shot the lass a dark look.
“You’ve got work to do for the feast tonight,” Gerran said. “Go do it.”
With a scowl and a flounce she hurried off.
“Here!” Salamander said, grinning. “I was just beginning to scent victory.”
“You can resume your campaign later. Listen, I’ve been thinking about Honelg. Prince Voran’s trying to make Ridvar see reason