The Red Wyvern - Katharine Kerr [99]
“The prince sends his best wishes to his wife,” Maen finished up. “Tieryn Peddyc and his son send their greetings to their daughter and sister, Lillorigga.”
So Peddyc and Anasyn lived, no matter who else might have died. At that moment the two Lillis reunited and laughed in sheer relief.
Maen climbed down from the table. As he was rolling up the letters, some of the servant lasses in the dun pressed up against the dais, asking him in low voices if such and such a man had been mentioned as living or dead, but of course, no one had thought to list the deaths of common-born soldiers.
“Maen?” Bellyra said. “Can’t you write down the names of the men they’re asking about and send the list with the letters back? Surely someone can spare the time to find out how they fared. The beastly siege is going to drag on all summer, after all, and through the winter, too, unless the gods take a hand.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Maen said. “Wait here, all of you. I’ll fetch ink and pen.”
The women huddled at the dais looked up at the princess and murmured thanks. Some wept in unspeaking gratitude.
“Well, true spoken,” Elyssa said. “About the siege, I mean. I’ll hope and pray that the dun surrenders soon.”
“It depends on the provisioning, I suppose,” Degwa said.
Lilli suddenly realized that the princess and her two women were all looking at her.
“It’s awfully well-stocked, the dun,” Lilli said. “It’s huge, and they keep cattle and pigs right inside the walls.”
“A long, long siege, then.” Degwa looked away, chewing on her lower lip. “Well, there’s naught to do but pray.”
But of course, Lilli realized suddenly, she herself held the end of the siege in her hands like a trinket to drop or treasure. She could betray her kin and clan, betray the child—her own cousin—she once had honored as the king, and hand Maryn the victory. If she dared. If such a thing would be right and not unspeakable treachery. She felt her soul split again like ripping cloth.
“Lilli?” Bellyra leaned forward. “You look unwell.”
“I am unwell, Your Highness. I feel torn in half.”
“No doubt! Well, the outcome lies in the laps of the gods. There’s naught we can do about it anyway, like Degwa says.”
Lilli nodded for an answer, not trusting her voice.
All that day Lilli fought with herself. She went to her chamber, then walked in the gardens of Dun Cerrmor alone. No one came near her; she assumed that the princess had told the other women to allow her privacy. In so many ways Bellyra had treated her more generously than any exile could hope for, and Maryn was the true-born king and meant by the gods to rule. If she held back, wouldn’t she be going against the will of the gods? As for her old friends, well, wouldn’t everyone in the royal dun suffer if they starved through a winter? Maryn would pardon almost everyone—but not the Boar lords.
If she betrayed the dun, her clan would be wiped out, her surviving uncle hanged like a criminal. And what would she say to her mother, when they were sending Merodda off to some temple to be shut up all her days? She found herself thinking of Bevyan and weeping; for some ghastly reason, the image of the white blisters on her face had stuck in her memory beyond the dislodging. It would be vengeance for Bevva and Sarra, to betray the Boars. She wished that she could consult with Nevyn, but she knew what he would say. Nevyn was the prince’s man, heart and soul.
“And what am I, then? One of the prince’s people, or still a Boar? If I went back, would they take me in?”
Lilli knew at that moment what she would do. She left the gardens, but as she was stepping into a side door to the main broch, she looked back at the sky, framed in stone, and the new Red Wyvern banners that hung from the towers. She remembered then the omens she had seen in the black ink. So, she’d chosen wisely. The gods had ordained the death of the Boar, and there was naught that she, a mortal woman, could do against that Wyrd.
Lilli found Bellyra