The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [97]
“Don’t you try to soothe me! I’m no fractious woman, you young cub,” Nantyn said in an oddly level voice. “Listen, Regent! I never doubted you had reasons. I’m saying they’re cursed bad ones.”
Belryc sat down in his place and turned his back on the dispute. Burcan considered Nantyn for a long moment.
“Stick to your opinion, then,” Burcan said at last. “And I’ll stick to mine.”
This maneuver took Nantyn utterly off-guard. For a moment he stood gaping like a fish; then with a sullen shrug he turned and strode out of the great hall. Burcan winked at Merodda and sat down to pick up his table dagger. As he resumed eating, it seemed that every man within earshot let out his breath at once, as if the great hall itself sighed in relief.
Since Merodda could do no more than pick at her food, she excused herself from the queen’s presence long before the meal ended. Her dread seemed palpable, as if a small animal clung to her back and sank in claws to weigh her down. Ever since Tibryn’s death, Burcan had fought off one challenge to his authority after another. Neither she nor Burcan, perhaps, had realized how much they depended on their elder brother’s position to solidify their own. Tibryn’s young son by a second marriage was the Boar now; he and his mother both were off in Cantrae, where perhaps they were safe, perhaps not.
Not that it matters, Merodda thought. Not that it will matter to anyone once this summer’s past!
Up in the blessed silence of her chambers she lit candles from the banked hearth, then brought out her scrying basin and the bottle of ink. Most likely Prince Maryn’s sorcerer had accompanied him to war, too far away from Lilli to hide her.
This time, indeed, when she thought of Lilli the images danced on the black surface. She could see her daughter sitting at table with three other women, all wearing dresses of some soft cloth in bright colors, yellow for Lilli. Although Merodda could hear nothing, they all seemed to be talking and laughing as they ate from trenchers heaped with meat and bread. She could just see a silver bowl piled high with fresh peaches as well. So there was Lilli, safe and pampered, while she herself trembled with fear in a siege that would doubtless end in starvation! Merodda’s rage hit her like a blow. The images vanished, and she straightened up, barely able to breathe.
Someone walked up behind her. Merodda screamed and spun around—the room stood empty, the bar still lay across the door.
“Ah, Goddess!” she exhaled the words more than spoke them. “May Aranrhodda protect me!”
The feeling of being watched persisted, grew stronger, until she wondered if she were going mad. Or was the feeling a warning that Brour’s old master in the dweomer was spying upon her? She gathered herself with a couple of deep breaths, then drew in the air a pentagram with great sweeps of her right arm. Once the image held steady in her mind, she set its image blazing with blue fire.
“Begone!” she called out.
The sensation of being watched vanished. With a small tight smile, Merodda returned to the basin and her scrying.
“Well, that was clumsy of me,” Nevyn said. “I never should have let her know I was spying on her. She’s handier with her magicks than we thought.”
His audience, a fat yellow gnome, plopped itself down on his campaign chest and began to pick its fangs with a long claw. Although Merodda’s clumsy banishment had affected neither Nevyn nor the gnome, Nevyn had brought them back to the physical plane at the instant she drew her sigil.
Let her deem herself the stronger—and grow careless.
• • •
In the morning the prince sent heralds to the gates in the third wall. From the newly built catwalks on their side of the second, Nevyn, the Prince, and Oggyn watched their progress up the grassy slope. Each herald carried a long staff wound round with many-colored ribands, a symbol that Regent Burcan and his men still respected, apparently, because no one slung