The Dragon Revenant (52 page)

Rhodry himself was in a melancholy mood, and simply because it was easier to listen to him than to talk about herself, she asked him what he was thinking.

“Oh, just some cursed strange thoughts, my love, about the long road and all. You know, I’m going to miss it—just a bit, mind, but miss it I will.”

“What? I never thought I’d hear you say that, after the way you used to moan and groan about your exile.”

“True spoken, and I owe you an apology for making you listen. But we were free, weren’t we, riding where we liked, and never seeing the same town twice if it didn’t suit us. And we never had to mince and bow and pay court to men we hated and who cordially hated us, or be even so politic and careful to curry favor with men who might support us, and all the rest of it.” All at once he laughed. “Ah, curse Rhys anyway—it’s just like him. He never could do anything right, not even live to a ripe old age!” He paused, smiling, his fingers stroking the embroidered dragon on his shirt. “Oh, the dragon has me in its claws, sure enough, and you along with me, my love. From now on it does all the flying, and we follow in its wake.”

For a moment Jill hated him, just for his wretched elven eloquence that had voiced her worst fear better than she ever could have put it herself.

“Here, my love, you look sad.”

“It’s because I agree with you, I suppose. After all, I’ve never known anything but the long road, traveling with my Da like I did and all. Well, except for those miserable weeks before you got exiled. Rhodry, I hated being at court.”

“But then you were only my mistress, and truly, I hated to put you in such a terrible position. Now, my love, you’ll be my wife. Oh, things will be different now, just you wait and see. When Lady Gilyan comes into a room now, no one’s going to sneer and look down their long noses. Oh, that they won’t! Instead it’ll be bowing here, and if it please Your Grace there, and everyone clustering round to see just what her ladyship requires or thinks or wants, because you’ll have more influence over the gwerbret of Aberwyn than any other person, human being or elf alike, in the kingdom. In some ways, my love, you’ll be Aberwyn, especially when I’m off on a campaign or suchlike.”

Jill’s stomach clenched cold, but she smiled, just because he so badly wanted to please her.

“But Rhoddo? There is one thing we’ve got to talk about. You know that I’ve started studying dweomer, and …”

“Well, who’s to say one wrong word about that, even if they do find out, and from what Nevyn’s been saying, you’re supposed to keep it secret anyway, if you’re an apprentice. My love, you don’t understand. The only person in the world who can tell you what you may or mayn’t do is the High King, and judging by what Nevyn told me, the High King knows how blasted useful the dweomer can be.”

“That’s not what was worrying me. It’s the time.”

He stared at her, blinking a little.

“I’ve got to have so many hours a day to do this work. Time and privacy, where I can concentrate and not be burdened with entertaining your guests or having pages barging in to ask what sort of bread to lay on table and that kind of bilge.”

“Oh. Um, I see.” He considered for a long moment, chewing on his lower lip. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure you have your privacy then, in the evening watch after dinner, say, or suchlike. It might be hard at first, my love, but soon enough, things will settle down, particularly in the winter months.”

She wanted to cry out, to scream at him: that’s not good enough! But she bit back the angry words, because she knew that once started, they wouldn’t stop, and they would lead her inexorably to the decision she refused to make. I won’t leave Rhodry, I won’t! She thought it over and over, like a prayer to the Goddess. And in the golden lamplight he looked so beautiful, grinning at her now, glowing with honorable pride at finally having come into his own, that her love for him swelled and wrapped her round until it seemed that she would simply die without him.

That particular evening, while Tevylla was putting Rhodda to bed, Cullyn climbed up to the catwalk round Dun Aberwyn’s walls and leaned onto a merlon to enjoy the view. Far away to the west the last of the sunset hung over the fields and farms, while down at the harbor to the south the waves rolled in all silver in the fading light. Although the night was chilly, and he was wrapped in a good wool cloak, it wasn’t truly cold, either. Spring would come soon, and good sailing weather. He wondered if the regent would be able to endure waiting patiently for Nevyn or if she’d send a galley with marines across the Southern Sea. If she did, he intended to be on it, for all that it would ache his heart to leave his new wife behind.

“Cullyn? A word with you?”

He turned and looked down to find Aderyn and Calonderiel at the bottom of the ladder.

“Of course, my lord, any time.”

As agile as a page the old man climbed up, with the elven warleader right behind him. When Aderyn sniffed the wind and held up a licked finger to test its direction, Cullyn found himself remembering, even though he would have preferred to forget it, that the dweomerman could turn himself into an enormous silver owl and fly when he felt like it.

“I’ve had news,” Aderyn announced. “From a reliable source. Gwerbret Blaen of Cwm Peel is on his way to Eldidd.”

Rhodry’s cousin? Cullyn said. Now that’s interesting.

“Interesting and a half, truly. He’s leaving Cerrmor by ship for Abernaudd tomorrow. I want to meet him there and head him off. It may not be politic for him to come marching into Aberwyn just now.”

“Darryl and Gwarryc would take it wrong. They’d think he was the king’s spy, most like, and go all touchy about it.”

“Just so, especially since Blaen’s got a warband with him. And another thing—when Rhodry does get home, it might be better if he landed at Abernaudd or even in some quiet little harbor like Morlyn rather than sailing right into a wasp’s nest. Which brings me to the main point. I was wondering if you’d come with me? We need to take the rest of Rhodry’s men along, too, if the regent will allow. We might need them.”

“We might, at that, and of course I’ll come if my lady allows.” He turned to Calonderiel. “Now, I’m not sure what we’ll do with you while we’re gone. Lock you up, maybe. My wife tells me that her lass Glomer finds you too interesting for her own good.”

“The child has splendid taste in men.” Calonderiel grinned at him. “But I’m coming with you. I know that Abernaudd will shriek at the sight of me, but I want to be there to greet Rhodry when he lands. Think of the effect it’ll have—a man of the Westfolk hailing our Rhodry as gwerbret and ally.”

Cullyn whistled under his breath.

“Effect, indeed,” Aderyn said, and he sounded oddly grim. “Well,
if
Rhodry lands, anyway. I wish to every god that there was some way to get reliable messages across this cursed ocean! I’ll have to try to think one up. Blaen is going to want to know where his cousin is, too, and the gwerbret is not the sort of man you like to keep waiting.”

Although Blaen knew that traveling incognito would be impossible for a man of his rank and renown, he was trying to keep his arrival in Eldidd reasonably quiet. Under the king’s peace a man had the right to travel anywhere in the kingdom that he chose, whether he was a commoner or a gwerbret, but in practice gwerbrets were a good bit more limited than commoners, especially if they brought an honor guard of twenty-five men along with them. Blaen had no desire to offend Ceredyc, Gwerbret Abernaudd, by bringing armed men into his demesne; on the other hand, he refused to travel without them, because he couldn’t predict what sort of welcome he’d get in Aberwyn. If Rhodry were indeed dead, then Blaen would need to leave Eldidd very quickly, and someone might well be chasing him. Long before he left Cerrmor he sent a messenger to Ceredyc to make it dear that Blaen expected absolutely nothing in the way of ceremony or gwerbretal pomp and that he would only be staying a short while in Abernaudd, at the dun of a cousin, Lord Sibyr, who lived about two miles outside the city proper.

He was surprised, therefore, to see a small crowd of men who were obviously riders from a warband waiting when the coaster came gliding up to the main pier in Abernaudd, and even more surprised when he realized that they were wearing the red-lion device of Dun Gwerbyn. With his captain, Comyn, trading after, Blaen walked up to the bow of the ship while the sailors were tying her up to the bollards.

“That’s Cullyn of Cerrmor, isn’t it?” Blaen remarked.

“Wouldn’t know, Your Grace. I’ve never seen him.”

“Ah. I have, and I’d swear that’s him. Much older, of course, than the last time I saw him. He’s been Tieryn Lovyan’s captain for some time now. What’s he doing here?”

The mystery was solved when the gwerbret disembarked and Cullyn came hurrying over to kneel before him.

“It gladdens my heart to see you, Your Grace. A friend of Nevyn’s sent me to meet you.”

Sorcery again. Blaen sighed, resigned and, now that he thought of it, rather accustomed to the whole idea as well.

“Well and good, then, captain. You may rise. Where is this friend of Nevyn’s?”

“Staying at an inn down in town, Your Grace, and waiting until you have a moment to speak with him.”

“Well, that best be as soon as possible. I’m about to go impose upon my cousin, Lord Sibyr, who lives just off the north-running road. Go fetch your sorcerer, captain, and bring him to me …” Blaen paused, glancing up to check the sun’s position. “… about noon, I’d say. We should be finished with all the formalities by then.”

“Done, Your Grace. Oh, and if I may be so bold, congratulations on the birth of your son. The King’s herald came through Aberwyn with the news about three weeks ago.”

“My thanks.” Blaen allowed himself a small smile. “I’ll admit to being pleased myself.”

Lord Sibyr’s dun was small and fortified only in the sketchiest sense; a low earthen wall enclosed a stone broch and some outbuildings standing on about two acres of land. Since Sibyr owed direct fealty to the gwerbrets of Abernaudd and thus would retreat to his city in time of war, and he also received his income from properties scattered all over the rhan, he didn’t need to live in a stronghold. In fact, the dun reminded Blaen of some merchants’ holdings: the graceful tower, made of imported pinkish stone, was flanked by two equally graceful half-brochs and set round with beautiful gardens. As the gwerbret and his men dismounted in the cobbled court in front of the main broch, Blaen was wondering if he should offer to go stay in an inn just to spare his cousin the trouble of housing real warriors. Yet when Sibyr hurried out to greet him, his welcome was warm enough. A tall, slender man with a fringe of gray hair round his well-shaped skull, Sibyr shook Blaen’s hand vigorously and yelled for pages to come tend his men.

“Gome in, cousin, come in! It gladdens my heart to welcome you to our humble little home. Haven’t seen you since your wedding, eh?”

“Has it been that long? Well, truly it has. I suppose you’ve heard …”

“About the new heir? I have, and my congratulations indeed.”

Sibyr’s great hall was as luxurious as his gardens. Its floor was covered with mosaics in the Bardek fashion, and its walls were hung with tapestries from the islands. They sat down in cushioned chairs at the table of honor and drank white wine served in blue glass goblets.

“There must be a quite a lot of the Bardek trade coming through the city,” Blaen said.

“There is, and a boon it is to everyone. Of course, in this new charter the High King’s granted Aberwyn a bigger share of it.”

“Ah. That must irk some of your local merchants.”

Although Blaen was only speaking casually, Sibyr went tense, cocking his head to one side to study his cousin as if he were wondering just what his implication might be.

“No offense meant,” Blaen said, all cool courtesy.

“None taken on my part, but there are some who might. It’s more than the merchants in Abernaudd who prosper on the Bardek trade.”

Blaen smiled and had a sip of the excellent wine. So—there were some lords who might welcome trouble in Aberwyn. The question was, would they actively support it or merely look the other way? It was not a question that he cared to ask openly, especially not of a man who’d made him welcome at his table.

“And how long will we have the honor of sheltering you?” Sibyr said.

“I honestly don’t know. Not long enough for me to become a nuisance, I’m sure. Actually, I’m waiting for news, and it should be arriving here about noon. I took the liberty of telling the news-bringer that he could find me here. I hope that’s acceptable?”

“Of course. Treat my house as your own.”

Just at noon Cullyn of Cerrmor strode in, bringing with him a small man with snow-white hair that rose above his forehead in two peaks like the horns of a silver owl. Although Sibyr most courteously offered them seats at the table of honor, Blaen managed to find them a private spot, just up the central stairway and round a corner of the landing, where they could talk without being overheard.

“This is Aderyn, Your Grace,” Cullyn said. “A trusted friend of Nevyn’s indeed.”

“I’m honored to meet you, then, good sir.” Blaen made the old man a half-bow. “What news do you have for me?”

“Not much as concerns Rhodry, Your Grace. I have the strong and distinct feeling that he’s safely on his way home, but I can’t be sure of it. As far as the situation in Eldidd goes, well, things are very vexed indeed, but I don’t think that this is the place to discuss it.”

“No doubt you’re right. Just where can we discuss it, though? I suppose I could come to the tavern room where you’re staying.”

“That might be politic, Your Grace. We just arrived here ourselves, you see, and I’m hoping that on the morrow I’ll have more to tell you about Rhodry, too.”

“Suppose he is sailing home right now. Is he coming directly into Aberwyn? Will we get some advance warning before he lands?”

“I hope he’ll land here, Your Grace, and as for the warning, well, I’ve figured out a way to get us some hours’ notice.”

“A few hours? A night and a day would be better.”

“Of course, my lord, but this is going to be tiring enough.” Aderyn looked pained, as if over an insult. “I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.”