The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [49]
• • •
“And just why,” Burcan snarled. “did you send the Lady Bevyan away from court?”
“I did no such thing,” Merodda said. “Queen Abrwnna was the one—”
“Oh hold your tongue! The queen does what you tell her.”
All at once Merodda realized that he was genuinely angry. A surprise, that. She put on her best soothing smile.
“It was a woman’s matter, my lord. You needn’t waste your time upon it.”
“If Tieryn Peddyc feels slighted—”
“Oh. Oh, I see. Well, Bevyan is wondering just who Lilli’s father is. She made it clear that she knows enough to be suspicious of—of—us. I had to do something.”
Burcan considered. Slowly the bloodred rage ebbed from his face.
“You’re afraid that Peddyc’s wavering, are you?” Merodda said. “Well, I suspect Bevyan of having somewhat to do with that. It’s all very well for her to talk about peace and how splendid it would be to end the wars. She and her lord will get pardons from the Usurper should he win. We won’t be granted such a pleasant boon.”
“Just so. But if you’ve sent her away, we won’t be able to keep an eye on her. What if she’s one of the ones you saw in your omens, the circle plotting against us?”
“Then perhaps she should be permanently disposed of.”
“Nonsense! I won’t hear of it!”
“Why not? I don’t trust her.” Merodda looked straight into his eyes. “Besides, you’re the one who’s wondering if Peddyc is still loyal to our king. What if he went over to Cerrmor? How many men would he take with him?”
“Far too many, but ye gods! You don’t keep a man’s loyalty by murdering his wife. Have you gone daft?”
“Not at all. Come sit down and listen. I’ve got a plan.”
Burcan looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged.
“Very well,” he said. “I don’t know why I waste my time doubting you.”
Merodda smiled and allowed him to kiss her.
• • •
What with the wagon to be packed and the escort to be chosen, Bevyan left Dun Deverry just before noon. A smouldering Peddyc rode with her down to the city gates, then for another mile or so past them. When they reached the west-running road to Hendyr, he called for a halt, then leaned from his saddle to kiss her farewell.
“Now do watch yourself, my love,” Bevyan said. “I’ve survived worse than this insult.”
“Indeed? Well, you’d best not have to survive suchlike again, or I’ll—” With great difficulty Peddyc caught himself, glancing round at his men. “Now then, set a good watch over my lady on the road, lads. The messenger should be well ahead of you by now, and so Lord Camlyn’s lady will be expecting you.”
“Done, my lord,” Young Doryc, the temporary captain of her escort, bowed from his saddle. “And we’ll hold your dun until you return. Have no fears about that.”
Peddyc allowed himself one weary smile, then raised his hand and motioned them forward. Bevyan turned in her saddle for a last look back and saw him waiting at the crossroads. When she waved, he turned his horse’s head and rode off toward Dun Deverry.
In the pleasant shade of the tree-lined road the horses ambled while Bevyan half-drowsed in her saddle. Her escort talked quietly among themselves; the cart coming along behind creaked while the harness jingled. Sarra began to sing one of the long songs the women traded back and forth to amuse themselves while they worked at various tasks. Bevyan started to join in, then realized what they were singing, the ballad of “Brangwen and Gerraent.”
“Oh, not that song,” she snapped. “Forgive me—I am a bit rattled, I suppose.”
“It’s just that the ballad’s one of your favorites.” Sarra glanced at her in surprise.
“I’d just rather sing somewhat else. Let’s do the one about Lord Benoic. Here, I’ll start.”
By the middle of the afternoon they’d finished so many ballads that they fell silent with sore voices. Bevyan was just thinking of calling a halt so they could water the horses and rest when ahead on the road someone shouted, a man’s voice, incomprehensible but filled with danger.
“Hold!