The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [130]
‘Keep an eye on your uncle.’ He leaned close and dropped his voice to a murmur. ‘He was never invited to that council today. If he starts to go off, can you pretend to faint or suchlike? Anything to cause a distraction.’
Branna followed his glance and realized that Cadryc had turned red in the face. He was glaring at Gwerbret Ridvar over the rim of his tankard while Ridvar smiled blandly out at nothing in particular. Prince Voran slid to the edge of his chair and leaned forward, ever so slightly.
‘I’ll try,’ Branna whispered. ‘But I’m not very good at fainting.’
Ridvar made some remark that she couldn’t quite catch, but she did hear him say the name ‘Matyc.’ At that Cadryc slammed his tankard down. His bellow carried quite clearly.
‘He’s up in the women’s hall with his mother, your grace. Since he’s but a little child, he can still eat there. You needn’t be afraid of him.’
Ridvar flushed red, then went dead-white. Hampered by her skirts, Branna took several moments to get free of the bench. Fortunately Prince Voran could move faster. He was on his feet and standing beside Cadryc before Ridvar could say a word.
‘Your grace,’ Voran caught Cadryc’s arm. ‘You promised me a look at that Western Hunter in your stables. The air in here’s so hot and stale that I’d very much like to go see him right now.’
Cadryc blinked in utter confusion, but Voran hauled him up bodily by one arm. Left with no choice, Cadryc allowed himself to be dragged away toward the door out. Branna darted forward and sat down in her uncle’s place before half the great hall even knew what had happened. She turned to Ridvar and smiled.
‘Oh, your grace!’ Branna mustered her best simper. ‘I know this is just awfully discourteous of me, but I really had to ask about your delightful wife. One of the servant lasses told me that she might be with child.’
Ridvar opened his mouth and shut it several times, then glanced around on the edge of anger, but he did finally answer. ‘Not that I know of, Lady Branna, though such would be a great blessing, of course. Otherwise, she fares well.’
‘She must be so happy, married to a handsome lord like you.’
Ridvar blushed, but he did smile and stay where he was.
Branna managed to chatter for some brief while, long enough for Prince Voran and her uncle to return. As soon as she saw them in the doorway, Branna got up with one last piece of flattery for Ridvar. A much subdued Cadryc took the chair that had formerly held the prince, while Voran seated himself in the tieryn’s, directly next to Ridvar, and looked at the gwerbret in a way that managed to be bland and frosty at the same time. Branna hurried back to her place beside Gerran, who gave her one of his rare smiles.
‘Well done,’ he said. ‘If Ridvar forces Cadryc into rebellion, the war’s over. The Horsekin can finish their cursed fortress in peace.’
‘It gladdens my heart that you’ll be travelling with my uncle, you and Salamander both.’ Branna grabbed his tankard and helped herself to a long swallow of ale. ‘I’ll pray for you.’
The rest of the evening passed without further trouble. After the women had retired to their own hall, Prince Voran’s body servant appeared at the door with a note, written on the finest scraped white leather, from his master for Branna. It said simply, ‘my thanks,’ but Branna tucked it into her kirtle to save, not because it came from a prince, but because she could write upon the back.
After a hasty breakfast eaten in grim silence, the noble-born allies and commanders began leaving the dun to rejoin their men in the meadow. The Red Wolf warband began to get itself ready to ride. Out in the ward, pages and servants rushed back and forth, carrying sacks and campaign chests and wicker baskets of gear and supplies. Grooms led out the horses and began to saddle them.
Through the midst of this confusion Branna and Neb went looking for Clae. They found