The Spirit Stone - Katharine Kerr [98]
‘I can see your point.’
‘But you know, my lord, in a cursed strange way I’m grateful that you brought me here. The world’s a fair bit wider than I thought it was, and that’s always good for a man to know. Eldidd was only a name to me, too, and now I’ve seen it.’ Gwairyc paused again. ‘I’ve been thinking about the things you said, back in Dun Deverry, about your taking me away, I mean. You said it would be to my benefit, and it has been, at that.’
‘Well, that gladdens my heart to hear.’
Before they left, however, Nevyn wanted to gather some medicinals. On the morrow Nevyn and Gwairyc were working along the bank of a stream, hunting for young green willow withes, a remedy for sore teeth, when Morwen brought Ebañy out to see what they were doing. ebañy was particularly interested in the little silver sickle that Nevyn used to cut herbs whose virtue lay in the watery humours. As he showed it to the boy, he noticed that Morwen and Gwairyc were chatting while they watched, and after Morwen took ebañy back to camp, Gwairyc mentioned their conversation.
‘She was asking me about Loddlaen, my lord,’ Gwairyc said. ‘Did I think he was trustworthy.’
‘Indeed?’ Nevyn said. ‘What did you tell her?’
‘That it depended on what she was trusting him for. If he made some small, easy promise, no doubt he’d keep it. I wouldn’t trust him to do anything of grave import. He’d want to keep the promise, but ye gods, he’s so miserable, it would be hard for him to do.’
‘I’d say that’s a very good judgment.’
‘My thanks, then.’ Gwairyc paused, glancing back at the elven camp. ‘The poor lass! You know what she reminds me of, my lord? When I was but a little lad, my sister had a favourite hound. And one day the blasted dog got its paw stepped on and crushed by a horse out in the stable. The kennelmaster was minded to slit its throat and put it out of its misery, but my sister begged so prettily that our clan’s chirurgeon took the paw off instead and bound up the wound. It healed, though she had a three-legged hound ever after.’
Gwairyc had never even mentioned before that he had a sister, Nevyn realized. He smiled to encourage him further. ‘And Morwen,’ Nevyn said, ‘reminds you of your sister?’
‘What?’ Gwairyc looked sincerely puzzled. ‘Not my sister. The hound.’
Nevyn felt the smile freeze on his face. Apparently Gwairyc noticed. ‘Well,’ Gwairyc went on, ‘that harelip’s turned her into a wild thing, hasn’t it? She’s never going to lose her vile temper.’
By the hells, even Gwairyc sees it! Nevyn thought. Has everyone noticed but me? ‘Never is a very long time, lad,’ he said aloud. ‘It won’t be easy for her to heal, certainly. It’ll take a fair bit of help.’
‘No doubt. If she’s even worth it, ugly little mutt that she is.’
For the first time in some hundreds of years, Nevyn felt like smashing someone’s face with his fist. He could feel the Wildfolk swarming around, offering to lend their energy to the blow. Fortunately his rigorous training in controlling his emotions kept him from doing so, and Gwairyc never realized how close he’d come to a broken jaw. Nevyn found himself remembering Ligga and her little son. They breed like rabbits, Gwairyc had said about farm families, then compared them to horses. Now, be fair, Nevyn thought. The king’s riders value horses above the men of their own class, too.
‘I’m beginning to wonder,’ Nevyn told Aderyn later, ‘if I can ever get Gwairyc to see the common-born as human beings rather than animals.’
‘I wonder, too,’ Aderyn said. ‘Probably the only way he’s going to see it is to live poor himself. Mayhap he’ll be reborn one day as a farmer or a servant.’
‘Mayhap, indeed. Who knows what the Great Ones will decide?’
‘You know the old proverb: you can load a manger with hay but you can’t force your ox to eat it.’
‘And an excellent proverb it is! I’ll meditate upon all this.’
‘It always helps.’ Aderyn paused, and he seemed to be gathering his strength. ‘I’ve been doing the same, you see, about Loddlaen.’
‘Ah. My apologies once again for being so blunt.