The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [137]
“A question, Lord Gerran?” Voran said.
“Just that, Your Highness,” Gerran said. “I’m still wondering if we should chase the Horsekin right now, while they’re at hand. They’ve fled north, but I’ll wager they leave a trail we can follow.”
“And I still counsel against it,” Prince Daralanteriel said. “Who knows if your prisoner told us the whole truth? For that matter, who knows how well he and Salamander understood each other? It’s likely there’s a second scout force holed up somewhere near at hand. This lot was a long way from home to be traveling on their own.”
“Now that’s true spoken, Your Highness,” Gerran said. “But what if they’re heading for the Boar dun? They can be reprovisioned there at the very least.”
“That’s a very good point, Falcon,” Voran put in.
“The decision’s the gwerbret’s to make, of course.” Dar made a show of addressing this comment to Gerran alone. “It’s his rhan, after all.”
Ridvar attempted to smile at this belated recognition, but the expression looked more like a dog’s snarl.
“Oh, I agree with the prince,” Ridvar said. “The bastards have burnt what there was to burn out here. I’d best return to Cengarn and tell my vassals to ready themselves for raids. Some of their duns are nearly as isolated as this one.”
“A sound move, Your Grace,” Voran joined the conversation. “Now, when we get back, and our horses have rested, I’ve got to leave for Cerrgonney. The dwarven envoy’s supposed to meet me in Gwingedd by the longest day. And then there’s this matter of the Boars. I’m Justiciar of the Northern Border now.”
“Your Highness?” Ridvar said. “If you’ll take the advice of a lowly gwerbret, you’ll move fast against them. If that squad that broke through our lines does go back to the Boar dun, they’ll be bringing the news back that we know who they are.”
“You’re quite right. I want to move against them before the end of this summer.” Voran hesitated so long that Gerran wondered if he was thinking of responding to Ridvar’s “lowly gwerbret” comment. If so, the prince thought better of it. “My duty’s plain,” Voran continued. “I’m charged with bringing peace to the province. Wish me luck.”
“No doubt you’ll need it,” Ridvar said, and this smile was genuine.
“No doubt. One last thing, Lord Gerran.” Voran glanced around, then pointed to Nicedd. “When I leave Cengarn, may I hire your silver dagger away from you? I want his evidence when I confront the tieryn of Pren Cludan about these Boar raids.”
Nicedd went white about the mouth and dropped to one knee before the prince.
“What’s wrong?” Gerran said to him.
“Begging your pardon and all, my lord, Your Grace, and Your Highnesses,” Nicedd’s voice became unsteady. “But if I go back to Pren Cludan, they’ll hang me.”
“Oh.” Voran blinked several times. “Well and good, then, you stay with Lord Gerran. I’ll make up some tale for your former lord’s ears while I’m on the way.”
“My humble thanks, Your Highness.” Nicedd’s voice became stronger. “I’ll praise your name always for this mercy.”
“I’m tempted to ask you why you’re riding the long road,” Voran said, “but I’ll spare you that, too. You may leave us.”
With a sigh of profound relief, Nicedd rose and hurried back to his waiting horse.
“Well and good, lads!” Voran turned to the warbands. “Let’s get back on the road.”
As he mounted up, Gerran was thinking about the Horsekin raiders who’d fled the battle, no doubt to bring information to the commanders of the larger force. He could practically taste the danger they presented. Still, he had no right to argue with a gwerbret and a prince over a decision, whether or not he was one of their vassals. Besides, he reminded himself, there’s naught out there but wilderness, anyway, off to the north and west.
From their posts high up on Dun Cengarn’s walls, the men left behind on fortguard kept a watch on the roads north of the town. As soon as they saw the returning army, they blew their silver horns to announce it in a strident music that echoed around the ward. Inside the main broch, Lady Drwmigga came rushing downstairs to the