The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [132]
“Ah Goddess!” Merodda stared at him for a long moment. “Is he here, too?”
“He’s not, but dead these long years past, and all because of you. You shamed him and stole his honor, and your brother nearly stole his life along with it when he flogged him in his ward. What you did to him is going to hang you now. Branoic, we’re taking her to the king.”
Maddyn expected her to curse him, or even spit at him like a peasant woman, but she merely stared, her eyes empty of all feeling, all thought—the brazen hussy! he thought. The stinking little bitch! When Branoic gave her a little shake, she started walking and, her head held high, let them march her off to Maryn’s justice.
In Dun Deverry’s great hall Prince Maryn had finished with the noble-born prisoners. He was holding an impromptu court while servants poured his predecessor’s mead for lord and rider alike. Although he sat at the king’s old table, to honor Great Bel’s dictates he’d chosen a place at the right hand of the king’s chair, empty except for its pitiful cushions. With Anasyn in his dead father’s place, his lords sat at table with him, and out in the hall soldiers laughed and joked as the serving lasses poured the imprisoned Olaen’s mead round.
Nevyn was thinking of the child-king and how, against all odds, he might save the boy’s life. The only solution the laws had turned up was almost as harsh as death—castrate or blind him, so that he’d be unfit to rule according to ancient precedent, then turn him over to the priests of Bel to raise as one of their own. Perhaps it would be better to let Oggyn have his way and let the child be smothered as painlessly as possible, so that he could begin a new incarnation in, or so Nevyn could hope, better circumstances. But he’s so young, a bare five summers—the thought would not leave him, not even in the comforts of victory.
In but a few moments, though, Nevyn had a distraction that, in the event, he would rather have foregone. At the door someone shouted, someone else crowed with laughter, and Maddyn and Branoic appeared, shoving in front of them a blond woman dressed like a servant in dirty brown and grey. She walked like one already dead, her head high but her eyes staring at nothing as she made her way through the jeers and mockery of Maryn’s men and the former king’s servants alike. Nevyn heard a serving lass mutter, “Good! They got the slut, her and her poisons,” and knew then that the captive must be Lady Merodda. At last! Soon he would be able to pry the truth out of her. He glanced quickly around but saw Lilli nowhere.
“You!” He pointed to the serving girl. “There’s a couple of coppers for you if you fetch Lady Lillorigga here.”
“Done, my lord!” She curtsied, then hurried off, heading for the staircase across the great hall.
Anasyn got up and hurried after the girl, but Nevyn had no time to wonder why. He turned back to Merodda and studied her. Would she tell him the secret of the curse-tablet? He’d have to bribe it out of her, most likely. Her captors were making her kneel at Maryn’s feet, while he slewed round to face her in some surprise.
“What’s this, silver daggers?” Maryn said.
“My liege.” Maddyn bowed to him. “May I present Lady Merodda of the Boar?”
“Oh ho! A prize, then,” Maryn said. “My thanks!”
When Maryn rose and towered over her, Merodda looked at the floor and neither moved nor spoke. Although her face had gone pale, she seemed perfectly composed, perfectly calm, the very picture of someone who’d given up all hope. Maddyn, on the other hand, brimmed with fury like a goblet about to spill. His hands clenched into fists, he stood trembling behind her. Nevyn was alarmed enough to rise from his chair.
“Very well, Lady Merodda,” Maryn said. “You shall be placed under guard in your chambers. I would suggest you begin praying to the Goddess you women serve, because as soon as my councillors can arrange it, you’ll be taken to one of her temples to live out your days.”
“My liege!” Maddyn’s voice rose to a howl. “How can you pardon her?”
Branoic grabbed him by the arm.
“My apologies, my liege,” Maddyn