The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [216]
“Never.” His voice choked on phlegm and tears. “My da—”
“We all have to die sometime, Matto. Your father died fighting for the goddess he loved. He had an honorable death, far more honorable than most men.”
“There’s somewhat you don’t know.” Matto’s tears continued to run as he stammered out the words. “Da wanted to kill me. He tried to kill me. He said it would be better than letting Vandar’s spawn get hold of me. He drew his sword, and he tried to grab me, but I got away. I ran upstairs, and the battle started, and he didn’t follow me. I didn’t know where else to go, so I just hid.”
“And then you came out onto the roof?”
“I did.” Matto paused to choke back tears. “That’s when I watched him die. I could see the fight.”
“Did it sadden your heart when he died?”
Matto nodded. His tears had stopped at last; he wiped his face on the rag and blew his nose.
“I saw my father die, too,” Neb went on. “He was very ill, you see, from a flux in his bowels.”
“Oh. Then you do know what it feels like.”
“I do.”
“But he didn’t try to kill you.”
“He didn’t. That’s going to be a hard thing to think about. Tell your Gran and ask his help.”
“I will, then. I’m so tired.” Matto handed the rag back. “None of us could sleep last night, knowing what was coming.”
“Well, tonight you’ll sleep in your grandfather’s tent and be safe. Come along now. We’ll go down and speak with Prince Voran.”
They found the prince still outside, talking with Tieryn Cadryc and Gwerbret Ridvar near the door to the broch. Neb hesitated, unwilling to disturb the noble-born, but Voran gave him a weary sort of smile and waved them over. Matyc ran to his grandfather, who laid a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close.
“Splendid!” the prince said. “It gladdens my heart that you could talk the lad down. You’ve done a good thing this day.”
“My thanks, Your Highness,” Neb said, “but it was Gerran who put me in mind to do it.”
“Then he’s done a good thing, too.” Voran turned his attention to Matyc, who stood stiffly at Cadryc’s side. Apparently he had no intention of kneeling to his captor.
“Very well, Lord Matyc,” the prince said. “Do you forswear your father’s rebellion against his rightful overlord?”
Matyc hesitated, but a glance at Cadryc seemed to make up the lad’s mind. “I do, Your Highness,” Matyc said.
“Do you give up all claim to this demesne, here before witnesses of your own rank and beyond?”
“I do. I’d rather be a silver dagger than keep it.”
Neb glanced at Ridvar, standing nearby with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and found the gwerbret’s face utterly expressionless.
“I think we can make you some provision better than the long road,” Voran said. “Very well, Lord Matyc. You’re now my hostage with my personal vow of safety. The scribe here can write out a formal quitclaim to the demesne for you to sign or seal later. Does that suit you?”
“It does, Your Highness, but I don’t think anyone’s got the coin to ransom me out.”
“We’ll worry about all that later,” Voran said. “For now, go with your grandfather. He’ll stand surety for you.”
“Coryn’s here,” Cadryc said, “and you’ve got a new cousin by marriage, young Clae, so you’ll not lack for company. Here, do you realize it was your cousin’s betrothed who just saved you?”
“I did, Gran.” Matyc turned to Neb. “My thanks.”
“You’re quite welcome,” Neb said.
Matyc bowed to Prince Voran; then with one last glance at the unspeaking Ridvar, he allowed Cadryc to lead him out of the dun.
With Matyc safe, there remained the question of Lord Honelg’s mother, Lady Varigga. Salamander had expected her to take shelter in Alshandra’s shrine. Since she hadn’t, Salamander went into the broch to search for the lady. On an upper floor he found the chamber that must have been the women’s hall, because it sported one faded tapestry and a threadbare Bardek carpet as well as a pair of embroidery frames with half-finished work still