The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [82]
“Are you a Cerrmor man?”
Branoic hesitated, but he had plenty of room to outrun them, and his own army would have closed much of the gap between him and it by now.
“I am.” Branoic called back. “Friend or foe?”
“Friend! Do you think I’d head toward an army of thousands otherwise?”
Branoic laughed and paused his horse to sit easy in the saddle while the lord and his men travelled the last fifty yards or so between them. When the lord waved him up, Branoic fell in beside him. The lord had a ruddy face, which collapsed toward his chin; he’d lost most of his teeth, whether to age or a blow to the face Branoic couldn’t tell.
“I’ve not had the honor of meeting you, my lord,” Branoic said.
“No doubt. My name is Daeryc of Glasloc.”
“Oh ye gods! Er, my apologies, Your Grace.”
“A bit startled, are you? I don’t blame you, lad. If someone had told me last year that I’d change allegiance, I’d have had him hanged from my walls!” Daeryc sighed with a quick puff of breath. “Cursed wars! A man can’t know his own mind anymore, eh?”
Branoic smiled politely.
“And who are you?” Daeryc said.
“Just a man of the prince’s guard,” Branoic said. “Look ahead there, my lord. You can see the dust of the army coming. I’ve got to stay out on point, so I’ll wish you luck and farewell.”
When the army paused at noon to rest the horses, Nevyn joined the prince, who was standing near his mount and eating a chunk of bread out of hand like one of his men. A servant, however, was unsaddling his horse to let it roll and would doubtless take it to water, too.
“Nevyn!” Maryn hailed him. “Did you see Daeryc of Glasloc ride in?”
“I did indeed, Your Highness. Tieryn Peddyc and his son were quite glad to see him.”
“No doubt. If you’re going to change sides of a springtime, it’s a grand thing to bring your overlord with you. Shall we see what his grace has to say for himself?”
They found Daeryc not far away, talking with Peddyc while Anasyn tended all three horses. At the sight of the prince, Daeryc sank to his knees. Nevyn hung back and allowed his vision to slip into the dweomer-sight. He studied Daeryc’s aura the entire time the lord talked and saw not a trace of treachery. If Maryn had had to depend on ordinary councillors to judge his new allies’ worth, he’d not have been able to be so generous with his pardons.
“You may rise, Your Grace,” Maryn said. “Tieryn Peddyc here has already stood surety for you.”
“Well, my thanks then, eh?” The gwerbret rose, smiling all round in an oddly tight-lipped manner—his lack of teeth, Nevyn supposed. “Your Highness, I’ll speak straight with you. Never did I think I’d come over to your side, but the real king in Dun Deverry is Regent Burcan, and that’s too bitter a truth for me to swallow.”
“So I’ve heard from many a lord,” Maryn said. “The Boar must be a hard man.”
“Hard? Huh!” Daeryc spat, as if in thought. “Rotten to his kidneys, I’d say.”
“Tell me somewhat,” Maryn said. “Here you are, riding to join us as free as a bird, but they must be finishing the muster up in Dun Deverry.”
“They finished it some days ago, Your Highness. But once Burcan realized that our Peddyc here wasn’t coming back from his wife’s burying, he remembered Dun Hendyr. I’m Peddyc’s overlord, and so he sent me and some of his own men to take the dun. When we got there, the place was empty. So I left Burcan’s loyal men there on fortguard and rode out south.” Daeryc paused for effect. “There’s naught like sending a fox to guard a henhouse, eh?”
Maryn allowed himself a good laugh while Daeryc stood grinning at his own joke.
“Well, then,” Maryn said. “The regent must be riding our way.”
“True and twice true, Your Highness,” Daeryc said. “I’m just cursed glad I got here before he did.”
When the battle came, it came on ground of the Boar’s choosing. An army as large as Maryn’s needed a prodigious amount of water, and that need pinned them to the river road. About two miles south of Camrydd Bridge, the river curved toward the east before curving back