The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [65]
“Tieryn Peddyc,” Maryn said. “This is my most trusted councillor, Nevyn.”
“My lord.” Peddyc inclined his head Nevyn’s way. “I’m honored.”
“And I in return.” Nevyn sat down with a nod at young Anasyn. “The princess herself is making your sister welcome, my lord.”
“My thanks,” Anasyn said. “I’ll owe her a debt forever.” Nevyn’s curiosity flared, but Maryn had matters of war on his mind.
“Peddyc’s been telling me that he’s bringing other allies with him,” Maryn went on. “A certain Lord Camlyn and his men should arrive shortly, and Gwerbret Daeryc of Glasloc will try to make his escape when the regent’s men march out.”
“Some of my lords already went over to the true prince,” Peddyc said. “At least, when I rode their way to muster them, I found them not at home.”
“Daryl and Ganedd, my liege,” Nevyn put in. “They sought your pardon a good month or so ago.” He turned to Peddyc. “No doubt they’ll be wondering what to say to you, my lord.”
“No doubt.” Peddyc stared down at the table and rubbed the back of his neck with a road-dirty hand. “I wish I’d gone with them, now. But no man knows what tricks the gods are going to play on him, eh?”
Behind the dais were several doors; pages came through one of them with goblets and a flagon of mead. Since the prince would wait to discuss grave matters till they were gone, Nevyn took his chance. He caught Peddyc’s attention and Anasyn’s as well.
“If you’ll forgive my curiosity, my lords,” Nevyn said. “Some great tragedy seems to be weighing upon you.”
“The councillor has sharp eyes.” Peddyn smiled briefly. “My wife was a jewel among women, good Nevyn. Lady Merodda of the Boar had her first dismissed from court, then murdered. It took us days to ride down here, and I’ve been trying to chew over why she’d do such a heinous thing. My foster-daughter tells me that Merodda was probably jealous of my wife’s influence over Queen Abrwnna. That’s the only thing we could come up with, truly.”
“But the murder’s not in doubt?”
“None, my lord,” Anasyn broke in. “It would gladden my heart to tell you all the—”
“Not now, Sanno,” Peddyc said. “The prince has no time to waste on things like this.”
“But I’ll gladly listen.” Nevyn nodded Anasyn’s way. “Perhaps we’ll have the time later in the day.”
Carrying a cushion under one arm, Councillor Oggyn was approaching the dais. Nevyn felt his usual weariness at the sight of the man, a reaction that went back a hundred years—not of course that Oggyn would remember. In his last incarnation Oggyn had served another king in Cerrmor, Glyn the First, when Nevyn had been part of that court as well. Saddar, Oggyn’s name had been then, although Nevyn had had to look it up in the court annals to make sure. Since at that time he was already well over two hundred years old, names had begun to escape his memory in an alarming manner.
“Tieryn Peddyc,” Oggyn said. “Your men have been quartered, and the chamberlain has arranged a chamber for you and your son.”
“My thanks,” Peddyc said.
Oggyn bowed low to the prince, then laid down his cushion and seated himself across the table from Nevyn in a place that was one chair closer to Maryn than Nevyn’s stood.
“I have heard, though,” Oggyn went on. “A most interesting thing. Is it true that your foster-daughter is by blood a daughter of the Boar clan?”
Anasyn went white about the mouth. Peddyc laid a hand on his son’s arm and addressed the councillor.
“She was, but she renounced them.” Peddyc glanced Nevyn’s way. “My wife had the fostering of her, and she was the only mother Lilli ever had.”
“Ah.” Oggyn rubbed his hands together. “My liege the prince, this is a most fortuitous hostage that the gods have brought us. We can bargain, perhaps, for—”
“Now here!” Anasyn slammed one hand flat on the table.
“Hush!” Peddyc snapped.
The men all turned to look at Maryn, who had been leaning back in his chair and listening.
“Lillorigga is my guest, not a hostage, Councillor Oggyn,” the prince said. “I made Lord Anasyn a promise, and keep it I shall.”
“Well, my dearest liege,” Oggyn