The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [105]
“Ah, I see.”
“My liege?” Nevyn said. “Where are your guards?”
“Following the tunnel down a ways. Caradoc’s as grim as you are, Nevyn. He wouldn’t let me come along.” Maryn glanced around, saw a chunk of fallen stone, and sat upon it. “I told him not to go too far. Here, Lilli, you don’t think anyone else knows this secret?”
“I don’t, Your Highness.”
“Why?”
“My liege,” Nevyn broke in, “there was considerable dweomer involved in its finding.”
Maryn started to speak, then merely stared at Lilli, his lips half-parted in sudden awe. She felt her face burning again, cursed it, and looked down at the ground. Bevyan always said you should lower your eyes if royalty looked straight at you, anyway.
“Well, then,” Maryn said at last. “No doubt the secret’s safe enough. When we get back to camp, you can tell us where this opens out. Could you draw a map in the dirt?”
“I’ll be glad to try, Your Highness.”
“You know,” Nevyn broke in again. “Peddyc and Daeryc and all the Rams and suchlike know Dun Deverry quite well. They can tell us what we need. I think Lilli should return to Cerrmor.”
“But is it safe?” Maryn said. “Even on a river barge? There are marauders all around, Nevyn, all those deserter warbands, and some of them have lost their lords, most likely, and turned into brigands.”
“Huh.” Nevyn considered this for a long moment. “True enough. I’d forgotten about that.”
Lilli looked back and forth between them, struck by how casually they spoke when there were no noble-born around to hear them. She wondered if Nevyn was of royal blood himself, to speak to the prince so boldly.
“What do you say, Lilli?” Nevyn said. “There’s grave danger either way, to stay or go home.”
“As long as my prince has need of me, I’ll stay.”
Maryn smiled at her, and it seemed that the day turned bright. For a moment she felt that she might slip into trance, as if his magical power and grace blended to drug her senses. All at once she realized that Nevyn was watching her with grim eyes. She looked away, fumbling for something to say, but the silver daggers saved her by appearing at the top of the steps.
“My liege?” Caradoc said. “It never does turn narrow. We can get a good lot of men down here if we want to.”
“Splendid!” Maryn jumped up with a toss of his golden head. “Let’s get back to camp and do some scheming.”
Lilli hung back and let him stride off in the company of his men. Nevyn slipped an arm through hers as they walked after.
“Some beautiful things are dangerous,” he remarked.
“Do you mean the prince, my lord?”
“I don’t. I mean the princess.”
Their eyes met, and he raised one bushy eyebrow.
“I understand,” Lilli said quickly. “Truly I do.”
And yet for the long ride home she felt half-sick with grief, no matter how hard she tried to pretend she cared nothing for Prince Maryn’s favor.
On the way back to camp, the rain came with a boom of thunder and soaked everyone in the prince’s party before they could finish complaining about it. As they rode up to the city gates, Nevyn spotted another wet group of travellers there ahead of them. Five riders led the way; then came a cart with wickerwork sides, drawn by a single horse, and behind that two men on foot. All of them, riders and walkers alike, wore plain tunics that left their legs bare.
“Priests!” Maryn said. “What are they doing here?”
“I don’t know, my liege,” Nevyn said. “But I can hope.”
Maryn turned in the saddle to give him a puzzled glance. Nevyn laughed and clucked to his horse.
“Let’s get back to camp, Your Highness. If the priests wish to speak to you, they’ll know where to find you.”
That very night, indeed, the priests arrived at Prince Maryn’s pavilion. During all the many sieges of Dun Deverry, the priests of Bel had held neutral, safe on their holy hill where no sane man would spill blood. This time, however, with the omens running as high as a spring tide and an enormous army camped round the dun, the head priest Gwaevyr sent a pair of neophytes to Maryn, would-be king of all Deverry.
It was just after sunset when a servant pulled aside