The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [108]
“How kind of them. I trust you’re still looking?”
“Of course. Unfortunately, the best horses in the kingdom all come from Cantrae. I doubt if the Boars would honor my request even if I sent a man with a bag of silver their way.”
“Imph. What a wretched circumstance!”
“Now here, don’t look so distressed! We’ll find one. It’s a bothersome delay, truly, but white horses are sacred partly because they’re so rare. And well, with this war …” Retyc shrugged with spread hands.
Logically, rationally Nevyn knew he was right, but dread ate at him. He felt as if this setback marked a twining-point in some band of knotwork, one that he should be able to see. But although he brooded upon it all day, the pattern hid just out of his mind’s reach.
That evening Lilli dined with Peddyc and his overlord, an invitation which here in the middle of the war translated to their bringing food to her tent and sitting on the ground to eat it, while she sat in the only chair. Gwerbret Daeryc had brought her a present of three plums wrapped in a bit of rag, which he handed her with a bow.
“My thanks, Your Grace,” Lilli said, smiling. “Where did these come from?”
“One of the men found a plum tree down in the city. Whoever owns it is long gone. No use in letting them go to waste. A bit of fresh food means a lot in a long siege like this.”
“I can well imagine, Your Grace.”
Anasyn had found mead as well, and after they ate the three men formally toasted her from chipped ceramic stoups.
“To your courage, lass!” Daeryc said.
Anasyn and Peddyc raised their mead and joined the toast. I must have done the right thing, she told herself, if they honor me for it.
“My thanks, my lords,” she said. “I’m only grateful I can serve our prince.”
“Our mother trained you well.” Anasyn was grinning at her. “You know all the humble things to say, but I’ll bet you’re proud as proud in there.”
Lilli stuck her tongue out at him, and everyone laughed. Daeryc drained off his mead, then stood up and handed the stoup to one of Lilli’s maidservants.
“We’d best be off,” Daeryc said with a nod to Peddyc. “The prince will be convening his council of war.”
Lilli stood at the door of the tent under the darkening sky and watched them out of sight. She felt almost giddy with happiness, yet she sensed some darker feeling under her mood; somewhere, just beyond her consciousness, terror crouched, ready to spring.
“Well, my liege,” Caradoc said. “It seems to me that the silver daggers are the right men to open that gate for you.” He paused to glance around the assembled council of lords. “Begging your pardon and all, my lords, but the men on this little expedition need to be absolutely loyal to the prince, and not have kin and distant relations, like, in that dun.”
Nevyn winced. Sure enough, the noble-born began muttering among themselves. Caradoc pitched his voice above the noise.
“And what’s more,” Caradoc went on. “The men who do this can’t have the slightest shred of honor. If some serving lass surprises us and starts to scream, then she’ll have to die, and fast. Are any of you going to do such, my lords?”
The muttering stopped. They were all perfectly capable of such murders, Nevyn knew. But they’d never admit it, not even to themselves.
“My captain speaks the truth,” Prince Maryn said. “Although it aches my heart to condemn any man to a task like this, the silver daggers will be the ones opening the gates.”
The lords looked at one another, then nodded assent. If anything, Nevyn realized, they were relieved to be spared the job.
“So then,” Maryn went on. “First we’ll take the third wall in open assault. The army will rest afterwards, two days perhaps, depending on how well the assault went. Then we’ll move on the fourth wall. At night the silver daggers will go through the bolthole while we get our men ready. Once they open the gates of the fourth wall, we’ll charge across and take it. Are we agreed?”
The noble-born called out their assent, nodding to the prince and one another. Tieryn Peddyc, however, got to his feet.
“My