Daggerspell (54 page)

In a fury of lust and rage both, Jill hiked up her skirts and ran, turning round the shed and nearly running straight into Cullyn. She yelped aloud in terror. He must have heard, must have seen. He set his hands on his hips and looked at her so mildly that she was sure she was in for the worst beating of her life.

“Da, I’m sorry!” Jill stammered.

“And so you might be, carrying on like a serving wench where anyone might see you.”

“I won’t do it again. Promise.”

“Good. You’ve got a chamber for that sort of thing, don’t you?”

Jill’s head reeled as badly as if he had slapped her. Cullyn gave her the barest sort of smile and walked past, calling out to Rhodry to wait for him. The two of them
went off together, discussing some new men for the warband.

“So that’s what Rhodry wanted to tell me. Oh, by the Goddess herself!”

She felt betrayed. Jill stood there for a long time and considered it, that where she might have been pleased, she felt betrayed. Cullyn had handed her over to Rhodry to be his mistress, just handed her over like a horse, and she wanted Rhodry too much to protest. At that moment, she saw clearly what her life would become, caught between the two of them, loving them both, yet kept away from both. Rhodry would have his wife, and Cullyn, the warband. She would be important to them, in her way, rather like a valuable sword that they would never use in battle, only hang on a chamber wall to be taken down and admired once in a while. I can’t do that, she told herself, I won’t! Yet she knew that she could, and that she would. The bars of her cage were made out of love, and they would keep her in for all her gnawing at them.

All evening, Jill debated the question of whether Rhodry would find her door open or barred. She decided that she should hold out and make him realize that he would have to court her, that she wasn’t a bit of battle loot to be distributed by her father. When she went to bed that night, she barred the door, but she couldn’t sleep, and slowly, a bit at a time, her resolve wore away like sand under a storm tide. She cursed herself for a slut or worse, then got up and lifted the wooden bar free of the staples. She stood there for a moment, barred it again, then lifted it off and left it off. She stripped off her nightdress, lay down, and felt her heart pounding in the darkness. Not more than a few moments later, he came to her, as sure-footed and silent as a thief.

“Just once, my love,” he whispered. “I’d like to have you in the light. I want to see what your face looks like when we’ve done.”

Jill giggled and threw the blankets back. He took off his clothes and slipped in next to her. At the touch of his naked body on hers, she forgot every worry she’d ever had
about honor and betrayal, but she pretended to shove him away. He grabbed her wrists and kissed her until she struggled free, then he caught her again. They wrestled with each other as much as they caressed each other, until at last she could wait no longer and let him win, pressing her down, catching her, filling her with an aching fiery pleasure that made her sob in his arms.

Since Nevyn never slept more than four hours a night, he was up late that evening, brooding over the dark master and his peculiar plot. For all his scrying on the etheric, he’d found no further traces of the enemy, and neither had any other dweomermaster in the kingdom. He was just thinking that it was late enough for even him to be in bed when Jill’s gray gnome popped into manifestation on the table. The little creature was furious, making soundless snarls and pulling at its hair as it danced up and down.

“Now, now, now. What’s all this?”

The gnome grabbed his hand and pulled, as if it were trying to haul him to his feet.

“What? You want me to come with you?”

The gnome nodded a vigorous yes and pulled on him again.

“Is somewhat wrong with Jill?”

At that, the gnome leapt into its final dance of fury. Nevyn lit a lantern and followed the gnome as it led him toward the women’s quarters. As soon as the gnome realized that he was going to go to Jill’s chamber, it disappeared. Holding the lantern low, Nevyn turned down the main corridor and met Rhodry, barefoot, tousled, and obviously very tired. Rhodry squeaked like a caught burglar, and Nevyn collared him like one.

“You little dolt!” Nevyn hissed.

“I just couldn’t sleep. Just taking a bit of air.”

“Hah! Come along, lad.”

Nevyn marched Rhodry back to his chamber, which was some ways away on the floor above the women’s quarters, and shoved him through the door. Rhodry sank into a chair and looked up bleary eyed. His lips were swollen.

“How by every god did you know I was in Jill’s bed?”

“How do you think I knew, dolt?”

Rhodry squeaked and flinched back.

“I’m not going to blast you with dweomer-fires or suchlike,” Neyvn said with some asperity. “Tempted though I may be. All I want you to do is think. You won’t be able to keep this midnight trysting a secret forever. As the saying goes, fine dresses can’t hide a big belly. What will Cullyn do then, pray tell?”

“Naught. We’ve had words about it, and he let me know that Jill’s mine as long as I treat her as well as a great lord’s mistress deserves.”

Nevyn felt like a man who’s drawn his sword with a flourish only to find it broken off at the hilt.

“Truly, I couldn’t believe my ears either.” Rhodry did look sincerely amazed. “But he did say it. I swear to you that I’ll always treat her well. Ah, ye gods, Nevyn, can’t you understand how much I love her? You must have been young once. Didn’t you ever love a woman this much?”

Nevyn was caught speechless by the irony of the thing—so he had, the same one. Unceremoniously Nevyn kicked the heir to the tierynrhyn out of his chamber and barred the door behind him. He sat down in the chair and ran his fingers idly over the rough wood of the table edge. Jill’s gnome appeared, all smiles and bows.

“I’m sorry, my friend. You’ll have to put up with this, just like I will.”

The gnome hissed and disappeared. Nevyn was just as heartsick. She was gone from him in this life as she’d gone in so many others, he was sure of it. All the amusements and crises of a great court would fill her mind and her time until her latent dweomer talents faded away. He could see it all: although Rhodry’s wife would have to accept his mistress, she would come to hate Jill when the various vassals paid their court to Jill, not to her. The fight would come to the surface when Jill had a couple of Rhodry’s bastards and was trying to get them settled in good positions. No doubt Rhodry would favor Jill’s children,
too, making his wife hate her more than ever. None of this would leave any place for the dweomer.

Nevyn’s first impulse was to leave the dun that very night and ride far away, but Jill would need him. For all the pain of seeing his vow go unfulfilled for yet another long stretch of years, he would stay, simply because she needed him. For a moment Nevyn felt so odd that he didn’t know what was wrong with him. Then he realized that for the first time in a hundred years, he was weeping.

When the tenth day passed with no word from Rhys, Lovyan was furious enough to dispense with formalities and send a message to him. Although she carefully phrased the letter in humble and courtly terms, at root she told him the entire tierynrhyn would be in upheaval until he cursed well did something about it. When the scribe read it to her impatient vassals, they cheered.

“You have my sympathy, my lords,” Lovyan said to them. “We’ll see if a mother’s words can prod the gwerbret to action.”

Lovyan left them to discuss her letter and went up to the women’s hall. As a child she had played there at her mother’s side, and the familiar room was still a comfortable refuge, even though she was the lord of the dun now, not its lady. When she came in, she found Dannyan trying to help Jill with her sewing.

“Shall I fetch Her Grace some wine?” Jill said.

“Anything to get out of the needlework?” Lovyan said with a smile. “You may lay aside if you wish, Jill, but truly, I don’t want anything at the moment.”

Jill threw her practice piece into the workbasket with such fury that Lovyan and Dannyan both laughed at her.

“Here, Dann,” Lovyan said. “It’s truly time we put some thought into getting Rhodry married.”

“True enough,” Dannyan said. “I’ve been thinking about the gwerbret of Caminwaen’s younger daughter. With Rhys and Rhodry always feuding, it would be wise to give the tieryn some connections with another gwerbretrhyn.”

“Now, that’s an excellent point, and she’s a level-headed lass.”

Jill went as still as a hunted animal. A number of things Lovyan had noticed all came together in her mind.

“Oh, Jill, my sweet,” Lovyan said. “You’re not in love with my wretched son, are you?”

For an answer Jill blushed scarlet.

“You poor child,” Lovyan said. “You have all my sympathy, but Jill, I can never let you marry Rhodry.”

“I’m more than aware of that, Your Grace,” Jill said, and she was in perfect control of every word. “Besides, I have no doubt at all that Lord Rhodry is going to make his wife a very bad husband.”

It was so perfectly done that Lovyan was impressed.

“I see.” Lovyan gave her a pleasant little nod. “I’m glad that you’re such a sensible lass.”

Lovyan and Dannyan exchanged a glance, then changed the subject. Later, they sent Jill off on an errand and discussed the matter, agreeing that whether she could sew or not, Jill was going to fit very well into the court. Without an open word being said, they now knew who Rhodry’s mistress was, and they could pick his wife accordingly.

Since Lovyan knew that Nevyn had an interest in Jill, she made a point of discussing the matter with him privately. As she expected, Nevyn was disappointed, but he seemed resigned.

“After all, I’ll see her often in your dun.”

“Of course, as long as things sit well with you.”

“Oh, here, Lovva! What have you been thinking, that I was an old ram about to make a fool of myself over a young ewe?”

Lovyan felt her cheeks coloring, but Nevyn was far more amused than insulted.

“I assure you,” he went on, “that I’m more aware than most of the years I carry. I’m fond of Jill, but truly, my main interest in her is her raw dweomer talent.”

“Of course! It’s very odd, but it’s so hard to keep in mind that you’re dweomer—that anyone can be dweomer, truly—and here I saw Jill have that vision of hers.”

“Well, the mind shrinks from what it can’t understand. I heard your bard practicing his praise song about the war. He’s reporting very faithfully what happened. Do you think anyone will believe a word of it in, say, fifty years?”

“They won’t. A typical bard song, they’ll say, full of lies and fancies. And you know, maybe it’s just as well.”

Three days later, the message finally came from Rhys. Lovyan had an odd premonition about it and decided to read it privately rather than having it read aloud in the open hall. She’d made the right decision.

“My lady mother,” it ran. “Forgive me for the delay in attending to your important affairs. I have been investigating the matter of this war in order to ascertain whether Lord Rhodry’s report was in the least accurate. I am summoning him and his allies to Aberwyn to give me an account of their conduct. You, of course, are also most welcome to my meat and mead, and we shall settle matters then. Your humble son, Rhys, Gwerbret Aberwyn.”

“You little beast!” Lovyan said aloud.
“You’re
certainly Tingyr’s son, aren’t you?”

Nevyn was more than pleased when Lovyan asked him to join her entourage for the trip to Aberwyn. He even allowed her to provide him with a new shirt and decent brigga, so that he could pass inconspicuously as one of her councillors. Lovyan was taking Jill, Dannyan, her scribe, several servants, and then Cullyn as the captain of an honor guard of twenty-five men, fifteen for her, ten for Rhodry, as their ranks allowed. As she sourly remarked, Rhys could feed part of her household for a while after letting her vassals feed off her for so long.

“I’m rather surprised you’re taking Jill,” Nevyn remarked. “She’s unused to large courts and their ways.”

“Well, she really does have to start getting used to them. Besides, having her there will keep Rhodry calm.”

Nevyn was about to make some remark about trouble with Cullyn if Jill were blatantly displayed as Rhodry’s mistress, but he stopped himself, simply because the captain seemed to have no objections to his daughter’s position.
Ruefully, Nevyn had to admit that he was disappointed. He’d been hoping that her fear of her father’s wrath would keep Jill away from Rhodry and free for the dweomer.

The night before they left for Aberwyn, Nevyn decided to seek Cullyn out and found him in his chamber in the barracks. Dressed in a new shirt blazoned with red lions, Cullyn sat on the side of his bed and polished his sword by lantern light. He greeted Nevyn hospitably and offered him the only chair.

“I just wanted a few words with you. About a somewhat delicate matter.”

“I’ll wager you mean Jill.”

“Just that. I’ll admit to being surprised that you’d let her do what’s she’s doing.”

Cullyn sighted down the sword blade, found some near-invisible fleck of rust, and began working on it with a rag.

“I think you’d be the least surprised of any man,” Cullyn said at last. “You’re the one who knows why I had to let her go.”

When he looked up, straight into Nevyn’s eyes, Nevyn had to admire him for the first time in four hundred years. All the arrogance that Gerraent had flaunted, life after life, was gone, leaving only a certain proud humility that came from facing the bitter realities of his life.

“There’s more kinds of honor than battle glory,” Nevyn said. “You deserve yours.”

With a shrug, Cullyn tossed the sword onto the bed.

“Jill’s going to do cursed well out of this, isn’t she? She’ll have a better life than any that I thought I could ever give her. Even if I had a lord’s ransom for her dowry, what kind of husband could I have found her? A craftsman of some kind, a tavern owner, maybe, and there she’d be, working hard all her life. For a silver dagger’s bastard, she’s risen pretty high.”

“So she has, truly. I’d never thought of things quite in that way.”