The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [28]
A company of the king’s horsemen came trotting through the gates. Nevyn stepped back out of the way as the men dismounted and grooms rushed forward to take the horses. Most of the riders were laughing, shouting jests back and forth and talking about ale and their dinner, but Lord Gwairyc stood alone and watched them with a small contemptuous smile. Or was it truly contempt? More of a shield, that smile, against the contempt of other men. Before Gwairyc could notice him, Nevyn went on his way, but at the dun gates he stopped to speak with the two guards, who bowed to him. Apparently the news of his sudden high standing had spread fast.
‘Tell me somewhat,’ Nevyn said. ‘Lord Gwairyc, there, who just rode in. Do you know him?’
‘Well, my lord,’ one guard said, ‘Everyone knows of him. He wouldn’t have much to do with the likes of us.’
‘They say he’s splendid on the field,’ the other guard put in. ‘He’s got no more fear in him than a ravening wolf. And you’d best not cross him, either, my lord. Touchy, he is, and I swear he’d kill a man for one wrong word.’
‘Ah, I see. Does he have any close friends?’
‘The king honours him, my lord.’ The first guard thought for a long moment. ‘I can’t think of anyone else.’
In gathering twilight Nevyn walked back to Olnadd’s house. Around him, merchants and craftsmen were hurrying home to their dinner. In open windows lanterns glowed, and the smell of cooking drifted in the warm evening air. A group of little children were laughing and tossing a leather ball back and forth while they waited for their mother to call them in for dinner. Nevyn suddenly felt that he understood Gwairyc, cut off like him from normal life and easy companionship. Once he finished his work in the city, he might never see Olnadd again, since he went where the dweomer led him, not where he wished to. Gwairyc would dine in an honoured place in the great hall and sleep in a crowded barracks, but that little smile—Gwairyc was lonely, Nevyn realized. A younger son, a man with an empty rank and no prospects, he’d found the only way to gain a position and honour, by endlessly risking his life until the day he died young in his king’s service. Of the two of us, he’s got the harsher wyrd, Nevyn thought, no matter how weary I grow.
This idea brought with it the first real pang of sympathy for Gerraent that Nevyn had ever felt. The sympathy seemed to grow of its own accord. At dinner, as he told Olnadd and Affyna about his day, an idea came to him, so strange that at first he refused to consider it. Affyna unwittingly gave it to him when he told them about the king’s offer of a boon.
‘I can’t accept some expensive gift, of course,’ Nevyn said. ‘I see what you mean about the grand gesture, Olnadd. Turning him down would be like snubbing a child who offers you his favourite toy, some grubby wooden horse or suchlike. You don’t want it, but how can you say him nay?’
‘But here, Nevyn,’ Affyna broke in. ‘If you took a gift that would help someone else, I’m sure it would be honourable enough.’
‘Now that’s true spoken. There’s plenty of poor folk in the kingdom who can use the king’s gold.’
Nevyn considered the boon in this new light. Somewhat I could sell, and then give the proceeds to the poor, he thought, or maybe another jewel to make a second talisman. He was going to miss having regular work to give meaning to his long days.
‘Oh, I meant to ask you,’ Affyna said. ‘Did you find out about that captain who interested you?’
‘Gwairyc? I did. Petyc knew his tale.’
‘Oddly enough, I met him once. I have a friend, Ylaenna, who has the prettiest daughter. Oh, she’s a beauty, that lass! Well, somehow or other, she met this Gwairyc, and he was sniffing around her good and proper until Ylaenna’s husband put a stop to it.’
‘I take it Gwairyc has little honour around lasses.’
‘Well, now.’ Affyna considered for a moment. ‘No doubt he doesn’t, but you know, I thought there was more to the lad than anyone would allow.’
‘You have the best heart in the world,’ Olnadd said, grinning. ‘I swear, you’d find something good to say about