The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [110]
“Who do you think’s going to be Ridvar’s chamberlain?” Mirryn said.
A gaggle of servants passing by stopped to listen.
“I don’t know,” Gerran said. “Blethry can take over some of Oth’s duties, but I doubt me if he can do them all and still manage his own.”
“My lord?” A serving lass curtsied to Gerran. “True spoken, and now the bard’s announced that he’s leaving as well. He says it aches his heart to see Oth treated so shabbily. Though I say that the old swine never should have taken Lady Solla’s coin that way.”
The other servants all nodded their agreement. A footman murmured, “Cursed right!”
“Lady Solla was ever so kind and fair to us when she was here, my lord,” the lass continued.
“Not like now.” The footman murmured the words, as if perhaps he was addressing them to no one, but Gerran had no doubt that he was supposed to overhear.
“Is your lady well, my lord?” A second servant lass spoke up. “We all do hope so, if I’m not getting above myself to ask.”
“She is,” Gerran said. “I’ll tell her you asked after her, if you’d like.”
“We would, my lord.” The lass smiled at him, then glanced at the broch. “The prince is coming!”
The servants all hurried away as Daralanteriel came striding out of the broch. The prince joined Gerran and the others with a shake of his head and a shrug.
“Did they find more evidence of thieving?” Mirryn asked.
“None that would stand in malover,” Dar said. “But naught that would clear him, either. Still, I did offer the man my shelter.”
“Let me guess,” Salamander broke in. “Oth refused your offer.”
“You’ve guessed right.” Dar looked utterly puzzled. “He drew himself up and thanked me, but he said he’d rather starve on the road than take another great lord’s charity. I’ve no idea what he’s going to do now.”
“I do.” Salamander turned and broke into a run, heading for the stables.
“What?” Dar spun around and started to hail him.
“Let him go, Your Highness,” Gerran said. “I think I know what he means.”
Gerran waited with Mirryn and the prince to see how the matter would play out. The sun had climbed high into the sky before Oth, escorted by two Cengarn heralds, came out of the broch. Though he must have been aware that Gerran was standing off to one side, Oth looked straight ahead as if determined not to see him. The bright sun picked out every wrinkle on Oth’s thin face and showed up the exhaustion in his pouchy eyes. Out in the ward pages and grooms waited with the one horse allowed an exile.
Salamander came hurrying up, leading his own horse, saddled and bridled. When Oth mounted up, Salamander did the same. No one in the crowd spoke or jeered as Oth rode out of the gates. Salamander followed a decent distance behind. Gerran wondered if Oth realized that the gerthddyn was trailing after him, but if he did, Oth gave no sign. Once both of them were out of sight, the crowd dispersed, wandering off to the varied business of their day. Mirryn and Gerran went back into the great hall together.
“I don’t understand,” Mirryn said. “What in all the icy hells is Salamander going to do?”
“Talk Oth out of killing himself, most likely,” Gerran said.
Mirryn opened his mouth and shut it again.
“Let’s see if one of those servant lasses will pour us some of his grace’s mead,” Gerran went on. “I want somewhat to drink.”
It was close to sunset before Salamander returned. Gerran saw him walk into the great hall and got up to go meet him. Since the two princes and the gwerbret were all sitting at the table of honor, Salamander never could have seated himself there.
“Well?” Gerran.
“I think I succeeded.” Salamander’s voice rasped on the edge of hoarseness. “I talked myself breathless, and in the end Oth agreed that life was a pleasant thing and worth keeping. Since I couldn