The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [74]
“To his royal highness, Daralanteriel, prince of the Westlands and the Seven Cities of the Far West, I, Voran, prince of the Gold Wyvern, clan royal of Dun Deverry, send greetings. I have news of great import and am most desirous of speaking with you face-to-face in order to discuss its ramifications for our two kingdoms. The high king of all Deverry and Eldidd, Gwindyc the Third, has decided that under the threat of the savage Horsekin it behooves us to look to our northern and northwestern borders. You may not be aware of the eternal-seeming discord and feuding in our province of Cerrgonney—”
“You could say that twice,” Cadryc muttered. “Eternal, indeed!”
Neb cleared his throat, then went on. “But such discord threatens the stability of the entire border. In order to promote a greater tranquillity within his lands, King Gwindyc has appointed me Justiciar of the Northern Border, in order to establish a continuing royal presence in Cerrgonney and incidentally in Arcodd—”
Calonderiel, Daralanteriel, and Cadryc all laughed, a sharp bark, a guffaw, and an outright whoop from the tieryn. Gerran and Neb exchanged a smile.
“Incidentally, is it?” Dar said. “Sorry, Neb, go on.”
“As Your Highness wishes,” Neb said, grinning. “And incidentally in Arcodd. Since the threat from our mutual savage enemies emanates from the west of the north, I wish to establish a residence in the northwest corner of the kingdom, where my court of law will be available to the lords of Cerrgonney but on neutral ground. I assure you that my presence there, with a warband of seventy-five riders and twenty-five royal archers, is in no way to be construed as any threat to your sovereignty along the western border. Rather, I hope to work hand in hand with you to ensure the safety of our two peoples. To this end, if we could confer at some spot you designate along our western border, I should be most grateful. I would suggest Cengarn would answer most admirably for this purpose—”
Another round of laughter interrupted the scribe. “Indeed,” Dar said. “It’ll answer that purpose and also the purpose of showing Ridvar who’s the stallion in this herd. Neb, go on.”
“That’s the body of the letter, Your Highness,” Neb said. “Though there’s rather a lot of formal farewells and good wishes for your health and the like.”
“We can skip all that now,” Dar said. “Later I’ll have you write an answer.” He turned in his chair, gestured to Salamander, then spoke in Elvish. The gerthddyn answered in the same.
Gerran was just wondering what they’d said when Branna came down the stairs to the great hall. For a moment he didn’t recognize her, because she was wearing Westfolk clothing—boots, leggings, and a tunic heavy with embroidery. She’d braided her hair in the Westfolk manner as well. Her voice, like Neb’s, held a new authority.
“Banadar,” she said, “you can go up now. You have a daughter.”
The labor had gone as well as anything that painful could be expected to go, Dallandra supposed. This baby had come quicker than the previous one, if she could trust her memory, perhaps because her new daughter was a fair bit smaller than Loddlaen had been. At the moment Calonadario, a chubby little hairless thing with tightly furled ears and a bright red face, lay asleep in the crook of her father’s arm, while Dallandra herself lay propped up with pillows on the bed in the dun’s second-best chamber. Gnomes perched on the edge of the bed and stared, puzzled, at the baby. They were wondering where she’d come from, Dallandra supposed, since they never seemed to have offspring of their own.
“Well, what do you think of her?” Dallandra said.
“She’s splendid, of course,” Calonderiel said. “I intend to indulge her every whim, once she’s old enough to have whims, anyway. ”
“Good. I’m so tired, but curiosity is eating me alive. What was in that letter?”
Calonderiel broke into a grin, and his eyes snapped with good humor as he told her about Voran’s new post on the border. Exhausted though she was, Dallandra had to laugh when he’d finished.
“I wish I could have seen Ridvar’s face