The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [109]
"I do at that.” Voran hesitated, thinking. “Indeed. I’m minded to sentence him to exile only, if Your Grace will agree.”
Oth turned to Salamander and mouthed a silent thanks. Ridvar, however, was looking at Oth with murderous eyes. Oth drew himself up and glared back at him.
“He’s done much good in your service,” Voran went on. “Surely you can find it in your heart to—”
“Oh, very well!” Ridvar snarled. “Exile it is! But I suggest most humbly, Your Highness, that we search his chamber before he goes. Who knows how many stolen coins might go with him if we don’t?”
“Well and good, then.” Voran shrugged. “A thief, after all, usually steals more than once.” He fixed Oth with a steady stare. “I’ve had doubts about you, my man. During the wedding last summer, I overheard a thing or two, but naught enough to bring to his grace.”
Oth made a sound halfway between a moan and a curse, but he rose to bow to the prince with perfect courtesy. He turned toward the gwerbret without a bow. “Let us go now, Your Grace,” Oth said. “So I may leave your dun as soon as I possibly can.”
“Done, then.” Voran stood up. “I declare this court adjourned.”
Ridvar joined him. “Guards! Come with us.”
Gerran and Salamander stayed where they were as the others trooped out of the chamber of justice. Gerran heard the gwerbret snarling at someone, a lass’ flustered voice apologizing, and the sounds of a crowd of people rushing out of the way.
“Eavesdroppers, I’ll wager,” Salamander whispered. “Lots of them.”
Gerran nodded. They waited unspeaking until the footsteps died away, then left. They walked down the stairs in dead silence to find a whispering, buzzing crowd waiting at the bottom. Apparently the news had reached the great hall. Gerran was in no mood to gloat or explain. He shoved his way through the pack of gossips and strode outside with Salamander behind him.
“Gerro, wait!” Mirryn caught up with him. “Is it true? Did Oth really snatch your wife’s inheritance?”
“He did,” Gerran said.
“Hah! I always though he was too honorable to live.”
“A little compassion wouldn’t hurt,” Salamander put in. “Oth’s had a hard life of it, dealing with Ridvar.”
Mirryn blushed and looked away.
“Well, by the black hairy arse of the Lord of Hell,” Gerran said. “Branna was right again.”
“Just so.” Salamander let out his breath in a puff. “She sees things, that lass, that the rest of us miss.”
“You know, there’s somewhat—” Mirryn began, then stopped speaking and dropped to a kneel.
Gerran and Salamander joined him on the cobbles as Prince Daralanteriel came out of the dun.
“Oh, get up!” Dar snapped. “Here, is it true about Oth, that the gwerbret’s exiled him?”
“It is, Your Highness.” Gerran followed the order and rose, dusting the bits of straw and dirt from his brigga. “But the justiciar stopped him from having one of the old man’s hands cut off.”
Dar made a sour face at the thought of the maiming. “What’s going to happen to him now?”
“I’ve got no idea. He’s got a clan to go to somewhere, if they’ll take him in.”
Dar frowned down at the cobbles. Eventually he said, “I’m half minded to give him a place with us. There’s not much to steal out on the grass, and no doubt he’s learned where thieving gets a man. He did keep Ridvar from committing some grievous errors, after all.” He looked up. “Gerran, would you object?”
“It’s not my place to object, Your Highness,” Gerran said. “But truly, it’s not the theft so much that aches my heart, but the way he turned Ridvar against his sister.”
“Doubtless he did that to cover up the crime,” Salamander said.
“True, but—” Gerran ran out of words, torn between pity and rage.
“Dar?” Salamander went on. “I’d advise you one thing, however. Wait until you find out how much the old man’s stolen. If his only fault was Solla’s inheritance, then take him in. But I have my doubts.”
“I’ll go consult with the justiciar, then,” Dar said. “My thanks, Wise One.”
It was the first time Gerran had ever heard anyone refer to Salamander by that title, and it shocked him, even though he’d known for nearly a year