The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [80]
“A lot of extra mouths to feed,” Oggyn said dolefully. “Still, we’ve got the first harvests coming in.”
“Oh come now,” Nevyn said, smiling. “You’re in your element, and you do a fine job of it, I must say.”
“Well, my thanks.” Oggyn tried to look humble and failed.
They were standing on a low rise and looking down at the encampment, which spread along the riverbank just north of the town itself. Since the lowering sky promised rain, the men were pitching tents, blossoming like dirty flowers in the midst of a churning confusion of horses and men. In the middle of camp stood the prince’s white pavilion, hung with banners—the Pyrdon stallion, the three ships of Cerrmor, and the new red wyvern of Deverry.
“The greatest army Deverry’s ever seen!” Oggyn rubbed his hands together. “I’ll wager the false king can’t match our numbers.”
“Don’t wager any such thing. Tieryn Peddyc tells us that Regent Burcan has persuaded his lords to strip their fortguards.”
“Oh.” Oggyn went very still. “I hadn’t heard that. Well, then. This is their last stand, then.”
“So we may hope. If we win.”
“Imph, well. Of course.” Oggyn swallowed heavily. “Well, I’d best go down. Yvrodur owes us dried beef as well as spearmen, and I’d best claim it.”
“We ride out tomorrow,” Burcan said. “The Usurper’s army is on its way north.”
“Scouts have come in?” Merodda said.
“Just that. He’s reached Yvrodur, and men are pouring in to the muster, or so they said.”
“Bad news, then.”
“Not so bad as all that. We match him, and we’ll have position. He’s going to have to come to us and fight on the ground I choose.”
Merodda merely nodded. Wrapped in cloaks against the damp of the night, they were walking along the battlements of the inner ward. She’d come up hoping for omens, and he had seen and joined her. She turned and leaned onto the wall to look over and down the hill, ringed with stone walls, black against the grey night. Overhead, rain clouds tore and scudded away south to let the great drift of the Snowy Road hang clear in the sky. Burcan sighed and leaned next to her, so close their shoulders touched.
“It’s a pity that your daughter chose to desert to the enemy,” he said. “We could use her peculiar gifts right about now.”
“Indeed. The little bitch!” Rage swelled and washed away any chance Merodda had of seeing dweomer-omens. “I never thought—and Peddyc, too! Why? Why would he have gone over?”
“He might have seen through your little ruse.”
“Oh, my ruse, is it now? You agreed to it quick enough.”
When she felt him tense, she moved a little away, turning to peer at him. In the dim light from the ward below she could just see his face, an expressionless mask.
“So I did,” Burcan said at last. “I shouldn’t be blaming you. I suppose Lilli unravelled the truth and told Peddyc.”
“I suppose. It’s the only thing I can think of, with them both gone.”
“Doesn’t much matter. What does matter is that he’s gone, and his vassals with him, and ye gods, the grumbling the bastard’s left behind! I’d not realized how many men looked up to him. If I had, I would have courted him more. Too late now.” Burcan shook his head. “It’s blasted cold up here for a spring night. I’m going in. Are you?”
“I’m not. In a bit.”
“Very well.” He ran his hand down her back and let it linger on her buttocks. “I’ll be waiting for you in your chambers.”
Once she was alone, Merodda looked up at the stars and focused her concentration. Against their glitter and light she could often see images of both present and future, but that night they refused to come to her. She tried thinking of Lilli, remembering