The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [76]
“A red wyvern, is it?” Branoic said. “Now there’s a grand idea!”
“Why?” Maddyn said. “Have you been talking with Nevyn about it?”
“I’ve not.” Branoic cursed himself for blurting once again. “Uh, er, it’s just such a fierce beast, you know? And a poke in the eye for the false king, taking his wyvern.”
“That’s true enough.”
Late in the afternoon the two silver daggers were sitting in the great hall. Down at the other end of their table a group of the lads were dicing for coppers to pass the time until dinner. With nothing particular to occupy him, Branoic had let his mind wander, and as it usually did in this situation, it had played a trick on him. Sometimes he saw things, mostly small creatures who skittered at the edge of his vision or appeared suddenly in a fire. Sometimes he heard things, mostly voices warning him of a future event. More often than not, when he heard one of these omens, it came true, and he knew in his heart that in the sign of the red wyvern, Prince Maryn would conquer—not that he’d be telling Maddo about his unwilling divinations. The bard’s good favor meant too much to him for that.
“Quiet in the great hall today,” Branoic said instead. “Where’s Owaen and the captain?”
“I don’t know about Caradoc, but Owaen’s still in the barracks,” Maddyn said. “The chirurgeons ordered him to stay in bed again today.”
“It’s always pleasant to have Owaen elsewhere.”
“Oh ye gods! Aren’t you two ever going to lay that feud aside? How many years has it been since—”
“I don’t care! The little bastard shamed me and took my blazon, and he’s ragged on me ever since besides. One of these days he’ll go too far, and I’ll wipe the cobbles clean with his ugly face.”
Maddyn made a growling sort of noise. Branoic sipped his ale and paid strict attention to the dice game. Soon they’d ride out, he reminded himself, and be free of the stinking boredom of a safe dun in winter.
“Speaking of Nevyn,” Maddyn said suddenly, “there he is. I thought he was in council with the prince.”
Branoic looked up to see Nevyn walking down the staircase with Lady Lillorigga of the Ram. At the sight of her he felt himself grinning. She was such a pretty lass with that boyish cut to her hair, and yet oddly frail, as if she needed a good man to stand between her and her troubles, that she’d caught his attention immediately. When he realized that she and Nevyn would walk right by, he swung himself free of the bench and stood up.
“Good day, my lord,” Branoic said, bowing. “And a good day to you, my lady.”
Lilli smiled with a tremble of good humor on her soft, full lips, then looked down at the floor.
“And to you, lad,” Nevyn said, somewhat surprised. “Maddo, how’s Owaen?”
“Resting,” Maddyn said. “But the chirurgeon says the wound’s clean and on its way to healing.”
When Branoic risked a smile at the lady, she glanced up and seemed to be about to speak, but then Nevyn caught her arm and led her away. Branoic scowled after him.
“Well, well, well,” Maddyn said. “Look who’s nocking his arrow after some highborn game.”
“Oh hold your cursed tongue! There’s naught wrong in being courteous, is there?” Branoic sat back down. “The lady’s suffered a great deal lately. She needs to see a friendly face now and again.”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed. Though I’ll admit that she’s a well-favored lass. I wouldn’t mind making her acquaintance, like.”
“And what would a noble-born woman want with the likes of you?”
“Well, she’s an exile, isn’t she? With no land or dowry to her name. After the fighting’s over, a man of the King’s Own might look pretty good to her.”
When Maddyn rolled his eyes skyward, Branoic threw a fake punch his way.
“Mock all you want,” Branoic said, grinning. “But I’ll make you a wager. Once the fighting’s over, and we’re all back here for the winter, I’ll bet I can gain the Lady Lillorigga’s favor. By midwinter, say.”
“You’re on!” Maddyn said. “One silver piece for you against my ten.”
“So! You think I’m that far behind in the field, do you? Well, I’ve always wanted to be rich. One to ten it