The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [40]
“I think I do,” Gerran said. “We live outside of Deverry now, don’t we? We’re not vassals of the high king and the princes any more, so Voran has to ask, not demand. We might as well be Westfolk ourselves.”
“That’s it!” Cadryc grinned, then let the grin fade. “I knew that, of course, when we swore to Dar. But somehow I hadn’t quite grasped it. I have now.”
“I still wonder why he got the gwerbret to let us go. You’d think the royal line would want as many vassals as it can hold.”
“Ah, that’s the issue, lad! As they can hold, but they can’t hold a blasted one of us if we can’t hold our land for them. The Melyn Valley’s too far west. I’ll wager the high king knows it’d just be a wound on the kingdom, bleeding coin and men.”
“So he’ll let Prince Dar do the bleeding instead.”
“Just that.” Cadryc saluted him with his tankard. “But with all those archers he has, the wound won’t be a big one.”
When Solla arrived at the table of honor, Cadryc broke the seals on the tube and pulled out the letter inside, then handed it to her. She sat down in the chair to his right and unrolled the parchment to look it over.
“Just read it out,” Cadryc snapped, then ducked his head in apology. “Well, if you would, my lady.”
“Of course.” Solla began: “To his grace, Tieryn Cadryc of the Westlands, and his lords of the Melyn Valley, I, Prince Voran of Dun Deverry, send greetings. I have news of some import for your overlord, Prince Daralanteriel of the Westlands. Alas, I know not where he might be or where I might meet with him. If Your Grace should know, would he be so kind as to send me an answer by the messengers who have brought him this letter? I am currently residing at Gwingedd in Cerrgonney, but I plan to continue on to Arcodd as the spring progresses. I will be residing there for some while, as I have every intention of demanding some legal redress against Govvin, priest of Bel, for the insults he tendered me during last summer’s campaigns. If his highness Daralanteriel could join me there, I should be most gratified.” Solla glanced up. “The rest is all a formal farewell. He never says what this thing of great import is.”
“Blast him!” Cadryc muttered. “No doubt we won’t be able to pry anything out of those messengers, either.”
“They may not know,” Gerran said. “I doubt if it’s his action against Govvin. He wouldn’t need to consult Prince Dar about that.”
“Huh!” Cadryc said with a snort. “I wonder what the high priest down in Dun Deverry will think?”
“Knowing the prince, Your Grace,” Solla said, “I’d wager that he’s already brought the high priest round to his side.”
“Most like. Well, I don’t know where our Prince Dar is, and I don’t know how in the hells we’re going to find him, either.”
Gerran glanced around and saw Salamander, lurking behind a nearby pillar, convenient for eavesdropping.
“Leave it to me.” Gerran got up from his chair. “I’ve got an idea.”
When Salamander saw Gerran walking his way, he headed for the back door of the great hall. He knew that Gerran would follow him down to the dun wall, where they could have a little privacy away from the clutter of the ward. It was odd, he reflected, that Gerran would have so few qualms about calling upon dweomer, when most Deverry lords refused to admit that such a thing could even exist. Odd or not, he was glad to dispense with the usual verbal fencing and insinuations.
“I take it you want me to find out where Daralanteriel is,” Salamander said.
“Just that,” Gerran said. “Can you?”
“Easily.”
Salamander glanced up at the sky, where toward the west a few clouds drifted against the crystalline blue, and let his Sight shift to thoughts of Dar and the royal alar. He saw them immediately, a long line of riders followed by herds of horses, flocks of sheep, horses laden with packs and more dragging travois, dogs, children