The Fire Dragon (7 page)

“No doubt it would,” Lilli said. “It saddens my heart to think of Braemys being so miserly. That's not like him.”

“Wasn't miserliness.” Grodyr's voice turned sour. “He accused me of being a poisoner.”

Lilli considered him narrow-eyed.

“It's doubtless a long tale,” Nevyn broke in. “Lilli, up in my chamber are three books of Bardekian medical lore. Would you bring them down? They belong to Grodyr here.”

“I shall, my lord.”

Lilli curtsied again, then trotted off on her errand. Just then Branoic popped out of the back door to the great hall, looked around, made a sketchy bow Nevyn's way, and took out running after her—a good thing, since the books were heavy. Nevyn turned back to Grodyr.

“Tell me somewhat,” Nevyn said. “This business of poisons. Is Lady Merodda mixed up in this?”

“She was, truly,” Grodyr said. “I heard, by the by, that your prince had her hanged. I have to admit that the news didn't ache my heart. Braemys accused me of supplying her with poisons. I did naught of the sort, I assure you.”

“Oh, I believe you. Here, why don't you shelter in the dun tonight? The prince is a generous man and won't begrudge you bread and board whether or not you take his
service in the morning. I'd like to hear what you know about Lady Merodda.”

After he left the great hall, Maddyn considered going back to the barracks, then decided to climb up to the outer wall and make his way along the catwalk for some privacy. By then the sun was just setting, and a soft twilight was gathering over the dun. To the east a few stars gleamed against the darkening sky. With the firelight and lantern light flickering at the windows, the central broch looked for those few moments almost inviting. At the top of the wall Maddyn squeezed himself into a crenel and looked out over the hillside below. Near the bottom of the hill little fires bloomed in the encampment where the assembled war-bands sheltered behind the outermost wall. For all its size, Dun Deverry could never have quartered the entire army.

Maddyn's blue sprite materialized in midair, bringing a trace of silvery glow with her.

“Well, there you are,” Maddyn said. “I've not seen you in days.”

She smiled with a gleam of needle-sharp teeth.

“You weren't in the great hall just now,” Maddyn went on. “And a cursed good thing, too. I played a song I wish I'd never composed.”

She cocked her head to one side as if she were trying to understand.

“Having a bit of fun with Slimy Oggo is one thing. Tearing the poor bastard's pride to bits was quite another. Ah ye gods! That was the sourest revenge I've ever taken.”

The sprite looked at him for a long solemn moment, then shrugged and disappeared. Maddyn climbed back down from the wall and headed for the barracks. He wanted the company of his own kind.

Lilli heard about Oggyn's shaming from her maid, Clodda, who had watched the entire spectacle from the servant's side of the hall. She had, she told Lilli, climbed up onto a table for a good view.

“It was ever so awful, my lady,” Clodda said, but she
was grinning, and her eyes snapped with something suspiciously like delight. “Poor old Slimy Oggo. That's what the silver daggers call him, you know.”

“Oh really?” Lilli was smiling herself. “And how would you know? You've not been consorting with silver daggers, have you?”

Clodda blushed scarlet and busied herself with straightening the bedclothes. Morning sun poured in the window. Lilli moved her chair round so that she could sit in the warmth.

“It feels so good,” she remarked. “Did you see Lord Nevyn in the great hall?”

“I did, my lady. He told me he'd be up in a bit.”

Nevyn appeared but a few moments after. Clodda made a hurried excuse and fled the chamber; like most of the servants, she believed him to be a sorcerer of the sort found in bards' tales, who can turn men into frogs and talk with the spirits of the dead—though in a way, Nevyn told Lilli, he'd been if not raising a spirit then at least discussing one.

“Grodyr told me many an interesting tale last night,” Nevyn said. “About your mother, that is.”

“Indeed?” Lilli shivered, suddenly chilled. “The poor man! Did he truly walk all the way here from Cantrae?”

“He rode at first, but his horse threw a shoe and stumbled badly. That's how he injured the knee. But about your mother, unpleasant subject though she is? He confirmed my suspicions about that woman who died from the tainted meat.”

“Lady Caetha?”

“The very one. Grodyr attended both her and your mother when they were both supposedly so ill. Caetha was ill, all right. He caught your mother drinking an infusion of bitter herbs to make herself vomit convincingly. It wasn't the meat they shared that killed Caetha.”

Lilli felt as if someone had slapped her. Tears gathered and threatened to fall. Nevyn leaned over and caught her hand in both of his.

“I've upset you badly,” Nevyn said. “My apologies.”

“Not your fault,” Lilli said. “She really was a murderess. Oh gods! My own mother!”

“It's not a pleasant bit of news, is it?” Nevyn stood up. “And I'm afraid I have to leave you with it. The prince is holding a proper council of war this morning. The muster's nearly complete.”

One of the last lords to lead his men to Dun Deverry was Tieryn Anasyn, the Ram of Dun Hendyr. A messenger had preceded him to ensure that the prince knew Anasyn was merely late, not traitorous, and that he'd be bringing a contingent of thirty riders, five more than demanded, to make up for his fault. On the day that he was due to arrive, Lilli kept a watch on the gates from her window. As eager as she was to see her foster-brother, she was frightened as well. How would he take the news that she was the prince's mistress? She decided that it might be better to keep it from him, if she possibly could, but if his wife was coming with him to shelter with the princess during the summer's fighting, the cause was hopeless. When it came to gossip, Lady Abrwnna could hunt with the best of them.

Lilli sat at the window with the dweomer book propped against her table. Every time she turned a page, she would pause and look out, watching the shadows of the towers creep across the cobbled ward. The sun had nearly disappeared behind the westernmost broch when she finally heard shouting out in the ward, servants calling, “The Ram, the Ram!” She laid the book on the table and leaned out of her window to see six men riding through the inner gate, each with the ram shield of Hendyr hanging from their saddle peaks.

She left her chamber, rushed down the stairs, and ran out to the ward in time to see Anasyn and his honor guard dismounting. He was a tall man, grown somewhat stouter since last she'd seen him, with a long face and a long thin nose. As well as the extra weight he'd also grown a full moustache, thick enough to hide most of his upper lip.

“Sanno!” Lilli called.

With a laugh he threw his reins to a waiting groom and ran to greet her with a bear hug. She threw her arms around his neck and let him swing her free of the ground, as he used to when they were small children. After a few circles he set her down again.

“You look well, little sister.” He was smiling at her. “Still as scrawny as ever, though.”

“So do you, brother, though you're getting fat about the middle, I see. Where's your lady?”

“Back in Hendyr.” He smiled in an exceedingly sly way. “She's too heavy with child to travel.”

“My congratulations to you both!”

“My thanks. It would be a splendid thing if the child were a son.” His smile vanished. “I'd ride with a lighter heart if I knew Hendyr had an heir.”

“Just so.” Lilli felt her voice catch and looked away.

Murmuring among themselves, the grooms were leading away the horses, while Anasyn's guard waited patiently by the door of the main broch. While Lilli watched, the view suddenly blurred. With a muttered oath she reached up and wiped the tears away.

“Don't weep, little sister.” Anasyn laid a hand on her shoulder. “It's in the hands of Wyrd, and what man knows the ways of that?” He shrugged the moment away. “I'd best go present myself to the prince, but dine with me tonight, will you? You can tell me how things stand here in the dun.”

Thinking of Bellyra, Lilli hesitated, but only briefly. “Of course, gladly. And you can tell me how Hendyr fares.”

Since as a mere tieryn Anasyn was seated some distance from the royal table, Lilli managed to keep a safe distance from the prince and princess both, though just as the meal finished, she did see Degwa making her way through the crowded hall. Lilli smiled and waved, but Degwa hurried right past their table without a word.

“And just who was that fine lady,” Anasyn muttered, “to treat you so coldly?”

“Someone who's been my enemy from the day we rode into Cerrmor,” Lilli said. “She's a daughter of the Wolf clan, and she's never forgiven me for having been born a Boar.”

Anasyn was about to reply when Gwerbret Daeryc strolled over. During the muster Lilli had only seen him from a distance, and now she noticed that he'd lost more teeth over the winter—one side of his face looked positively
caved in. Anasyn scrambled up and bowed to his overlord, but Daeryc motioned to Lilli to stay seated.

“I only want a word with your brother,” Daeryc said. “About this business of the white mare.”

“They've not found one, have they?” Anasyn said.

“They've not, or so they say.” Daeryc looked profoundly gloomy. “Who can trust what priests say, eh? But without the mare, the temple won't perform the kingship rite before the campaigning begins.”

“Indeed?” Lilli put in. “That's a pity, but is it all that important?”

“Important?” Daeryc snorted. “You could say that twice and loudly, too.”

“If the wretched priests of Bel,” Anasyn said to her, “would condescend to proclaim our liege king before we all rode out, we could count on plenty of deserters from Braemys's army. I'm willing to wager high that a lot of the lords still loyal to the Boars would come over if they had some noble reason to do it. They don't want to besmirch their honor, but if Maryn were the king? Well, then.”

“I'd wager along with you,” Daeryc said. “Braemys just might have found his army disappearing like food on a glutton's table. But now?” He shrugged. “The good men will hold loyal till the end, most like.”

After the meal Lilli went up to Nevyn's tower room, where she discovered that the delay in confirming Maryn's kingship was preying upon her master's mind as well. Nevyn delivered himself of a few choice oaths on the subject before explaining.

“They have their reason all polished and ready, of course. The lack of the proper white mare for the rites. Huh. Let Maryn win the summer's war, and white mares will doubtless pop up all over the landscape.”

“There's somewhat I don't understand,” Lilli said. “Does great Bel really care about the color of Maryn's horse? Would we really be cursed if he rode a grey mare in the procession?”

“Of course not. But the lords and the priests and perhaps even the common folk would believe that he was
cursed, and they'd look at him with different eyes. And Maryn himself—he's as pious as any great lord is, which is to say, as pious as the times are hard, but he truly does believe that the gods have power over him. If he thought himself cursed, wouldn't he doubt his judgment and his luck?”

“I see. And he might do a reckless thing, or shrink back from a fight, and his men would think he'd lost his dweomer luck.”

“Exactly. And they've followed him for many a long year now, through famine and battle, mostly because they believe in his luck and the gods both.”

Lilli considered this while the old man watched her from his seat on the windowsill. “But then,” she said finally, “the gods don't truly care what happens to their worshippers. Is that what you mean?”

“Close enough. In time, I'll tell you a great deal more about the gods—this autumn, when we have more leisure. But for now, remember that the gods want homage and little else from their ordinary worshippers. Does the high king care about each and every man who tends his fields? Not so long as that man hands over his taxes and dues.”

“That makes the gods seem so cold, though, and so very far away.”

“They are. Think well on this. Which you'll have plenty of time to do once I've gone with the prince.”

“Anasyn was the last lord to ride in, wasn't he?” Lilli felt her heart turn over. “You'll all be marching on the morrow.”

“I'm afraid so.” Nevyn glanced away, abruptly sad. “And may the gods all grant that this summer sees the end of it.”

As she walked down the stairs of Nevyn's tower, Lilli was thinking of Branoic. Although she wanted to say farewell to him, her rank kept her from going to a place as lowly as the silver daggers' barracks. She stepped inside the great hall, stood in the doorway on the riders' side, and tried to catch the attention of one of the servant lasses, who would be glad to carry a message for her in return for a copper.
In the smoky room, crammed with fighting men of every rank, the lasses were trotting back and forth, bringing ale, serving bread, dodging the men's wandering hands, and answering back as smartly as they could to the various remarks they were getting. Lilli found herself thinking that she was as lucky as Prince Maryn. The summer past, her clan had been destroyed, and she herself might have ended up carrying slops in some lord's hall had it not been for Princess Bellyra's generosity.

“Lilli?” A dark voice sounded behind her.

With a little shriek Lilli spun around to find Branoic grinning at her.

“I didn't mean to scare you out of your skin,” he said. “I got one of my feelings, like, that mayhap you wanted to talk with me.”

“I do.” She managed a laugh. “I was just remembering last summer. It seems like a twenty's worth of years ago, not just one.”

“The best summer of my life, it was.”

“Truly? Why?”

“You silly goose!” Branoic was grinning at her. “Because I met you, of course.”

“I don't deserve you, I truly don't.”

“Spare me that, if you please.” Branoic reached out and engulfed her small soft hands with his, all battle-hard and callused. “If our prince objects to my kissing my betrothed farewell, then bad cess to him.”