The Red Wyvern: Book One of the Dragon Mage (21 page)

“I’m allowed in,” he said. “Because of my great age, you see.”

“Very good, my lord,” was all she found to say in answer.

The princess’s hall turned out to be large and sunny, an entire half of one round floor of the broch. Bardek carpets in blue and green lay scattered across the polished planks, and new tapestries hung between all the windows, which sported wooden shutters carved with interlacements and ships. Scattered about were chairs and big floor cushions; on little tables stood glittering silver oddments—a dragon folding her wings, a spray of lavender so cunningly worked it seemed you could smell it, a silver casket engraved with a rose design. Under one table an elderly yellow cat was licking her stomach, propped up on front paws.

Sitting near a window was a young blond woman, heavy with child, with a boy of about two sitting at her feet. Two other women in embroidered dresses sat near her, and a plain and plainly dressed lass lounged on the floor nearby.

When Nevyn bowed to the woman near the window, Lilli curtsied.

“Your Highness,” Nevyn said. “May I present to you Lillorigga of the Ram, who comes to us seeking shelter as her menfolk have come to seek your husband’s pardon.”

“Of course.” The princess’s voice was pleasant and lively. “You’re welcome in my hall, Lillorigga.”

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Your Highness.” Lilli curtsied again, as best she could wearing brigga. “The Ram is truly my clan now, for they’ve taken me in when my own would cast me out.”

“Well and good, then.” The princess glanced at Nevyn. “You’re supposed to tell her my name, you know. I’m trying to get all this courtesy stuff right for once.”

Everyone laughed, except Lilli, who kept herself to a smile.

“My apologies,” Nevyn said, grinning. “Princess Bellyra, may I present to you Lillorigga of the Ram?”

“You may.” Bellyra returned his smile. “But shall we call you Lilli?”

“I’d be honored, Your Highness.”

“And this is Elyssa and Degwa,” the princess waved at the two women, “and my son, Casyl, and his nurse, Arda.”

Lilli smiled; everyone smiled in return. She realized that she was beginning to feel safe and wondered if it was a dangerous luxury, especially since Nevyn stood nearby, watching her with his gaze as sharp as any dagger.

“Have you proper clothing?” Bellyra said. “If not, I’ve got lots, and you shall have some of mine.”

“Her highness is too generous,” Lilli said. “I’m afraid that I had to run for my life, and so I don’t have anything but a couple of blankets and these clothes.”

“Very well, then.” The princess turned to Degwa. “The chest carved with the dragons has dresses in it that Lilli can have. I need to go speak with my husband. Arda, take Casso to the nursery, will you? Lady Degwa, if you’ll take care of seeing Lilli settled?”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Degwa, stout and dark-haired, curtsied to the princess, then turned to Lilli. Her dark eyes flicked this way and that, appraising her. “I’ll have the pages bring you up bath water.”

“Oh, thank you! There’s nothing I’d like more!”

“Good,” Nevyn said briskly. “I’ll leave you to get settled among the women, my lady Lillorigga. But if you will do me the honor of allowing me to attend upon you this afternoon?”

“My thanks, my lord.” Lilli was thinking that she’d rather chat with vipers, but she would owe everything to these people’s charity from now on. “The honor will be mine.”

•   •   •

When Nevyn returned to the great hall, he found Maryn and his new allies sitting at table up on the royal dais. The prince waved him up to the table with an expansive sweep of one arm.

“Tieryn Peddyc,” Maryn said. “This is my most trusted councillor, Nevyn.”

“My lord.” Peddyc inclined his head Nevyn’s way. “I’m honored.”

“And I in return.” Nevyn sat down with a nod at young Anasyn. “The princess herself is making your sister welcome, my lord.”

“My thanks,” Anasyn said. “I’ll owe her a debt forever.” Nevyn’s curiosity flared, but Maryn had matters of war on his mind.

“Peddyc’s been telling me that he’s bringing other allies with him,” Maryn went on. “A certain Lord Camlyn and his men should arrive shortly, and Gwerbret Daeryc of Glasloc will try to make his escape when the regent’s men march out.”

“Some of my lords already went over to the true prince,” Peddyc said. “At least, when I rode their way to muster them, I found them not at home.”

“Daryl and Ganedd, my liege,” Nevyn put in. “They sought your pardon a good month or so ago.” He turned to Peddyc. “No doubt they’ll be wondering what to say to you, my lord.”

“No doubt.” Peddyc stared down at the table and rubbed the back of his neck with a road-dirty hand. “I wish I’d gone with them, now. But no man knows what tricks the gods are going to play on him, eh?”

Behind the dais were several doors; pages came through one of them with goblets and a flagon of mead. Since the prince would wait to discuss grave matters till they were gone, Nevyn took his chance. He caught Peddyc’s attention and Anasyn’s as well.

“If you’ll forgive my curiosity, my lords,” Nevyn said. “Some great tragedy seems to be weighing upon you.”

“The councillor has sharp eyes.” Peddyn smiled briefly. “My wife was a jewel among women, good Nevyn. Lady Merodda of the Boar had her first dismissed from court, then murdered. It took us days to ride down here, and I’ve been trying to chew over why she’d do such a heinous thing. My foster-daughter tells me that Merodda was probably jealous of my wife’s influence over Queen Abrwnna. That’s the only thing we could come up with, truly.”

“But the murder’s not in doubt?”

“None, my lord,” Anasyn broke in. “It would gladden my heart to tell you all the—”

“Not now, Sanno,” Peddyc said. “The prince has no time to waste on things like this.”

“But I’ll gladly listen.” Nevyn nodded Anasyn’s way. “Perhaps we’ll have the time later in the day.”

Carrying a cushion under one arm, Councillor Oggyn was approaching the dais. Nevyn felt his usual weariness at the sight of the man, a reaction that went back a hundred years—not of course that Oggyn would remember. In his last incarnation Oggyn had served another king in Cerrmor, Glyn the First, when Nevyn had been part of that court as well. Saddar, Oggyn’s name had been then, although Nevyn had had to look it up in the court annals to make sure. Since at that time he was already well over two hundred years old, names had begun to escape his memory in an alarming manner.

“Tieryn Peddyc,” Oggyn said. “Your men have been quartered, and the chamberlain has arranged a chamber for you and your son.”

“My thanks,” Peddyc said.

Oggyn bowed low to the prince, then laid down his cushion and seated himself across the table from Nevyn in a place that was one chair closer to Maryn than Nevyn’s stood.

“I have heard, though,” Oggyn went on. “A most interesting thing. Is it true that your foster-daughter is by blood a daughter of the Boar clan?”

Anasyn went white about the mouth. Peddyc laid a hand on his son’s arm and addressed the councillor.

“She was, but she renounced them.” Peddyc glanced Nevyn’s way. “My wife had the fostering of her, and she was the only mother Lilli ever had.”

“Ah.” Oggyn rubbed his hands together. “My liege the prince, this is a most fortuitous hostage that the gods have brought us. We can bargain, perhaps, for—”

“Now here!” Anasyn slammed one hand flat on the table.

“Hush!” Peddyc snapped.

The men all turned to look at Maryn, who had been leaning back in his chair and listening.

“Lillorigga is my guest, not a hostage, Councillor Oggyn,” the prince said. “I made Lord Anasyn a promise, and keep it I shall.”

“Well, my dearest liege,” Oggyn said, “never would I suggest that you dishonor yourself by breaking a promise, but—”

“Good.” Maryn flashed him a smile. “Don’t. Lord Anasyn, your sister shall be treated as my sister here.”

“My humble thanks, my prince.” Anasyn could hardly speak. “We owe her so much.”

“Tieryn Peddyc, no doubt you and your son are weary. Oggyn, summon a page, will you? Have him take the men of the Ram to their new chambers.”

A simmering Oggyn rose and bowed. To make sure the peace got kept, Nevyn did the same. As Peddyc turned to leave, he touched Nevyn’s arm.

“My lord?” Peddyc said. “When will the prince muster his full army?”

“The whole pack never will come to Cerrmor. The lords along the coast will be riding in with their men on the morrow. Once they’ve gathered, we’ll head north, picking up lords and their warbands as we go. It spreads the cost of feeding everyone around.”

“And a good idea, that. But we’ll ride out soon?”

“We will. You must be anxious to avenge your lady.”

“I am, truly.” But Peddyc looked so weary, so dreadfully, impossibly weary, that Nevyn wondered if he were longing not for vengeance but for death.

As the afternoon unrolled, Lilli felt as if she were dancing some complex figure to a tune she’d never heard before. At least in Dun Deverry, as a daughter of the Boar clan, she’d had a place and a rank, neatly defined. Here? She would have only what Princess Bellyra chose to give her. She did, however, have fewer personalities to sort out in Cerrmor than she had in her mother’s circle. Since Maryn held most of southern Deverry loyal to him, and thus his vassals’ lands lay safely behind the disputed border, there were surprisingly few homeless noblewomen living at court, and of those, only two seemed to be much in the princess’s confidence. Blond, merry Elyssa was a widow and the daughter of Tieryn Elyc, regent in the dun when Bellyra was a child. Degwa, twice widowed, belonged to the dispossessed Wolf clan, who formerly had held lands that the Boar held now.

Once Lilli had had her bath and put on a pair of her hand-me-down dresses, she returned to the women’s hall to find Degwa there alone. They chatted, while they waited for the princess’s return, about Degwa’s young sons and daughters, living in fosterage in various safe duns on the coast.

“Someday,” Degwa remarked, “I hope my children will have our lands back and restore my clan’s name. My sons will go to their father’s clan, of course, but my daughter knows her duty.”

“Um, I don’t think I understand—”

“Of course! My apologies.” Degwa’s voice turned cool. “An outsider wouldn’t know. The Wolf lands pass in the female line, you see. It was a ruling of Glyn the First of Cerrmor. My daughter’s husband will be the Wolf.”

“How very interesting! And where are your lands, my lady?”

“Along the river Nerr, some miles south of Muir. Our village is named Blaeddbyr.”

“Ah. I’ve never been there.” Lilli was profoundly relieved—she’d been afraid that close kin of hers held those lands. “But no doubt the prince will grant them back to the Wolf when the time comes.”

Degwa smiled—oddly coldly, oddly thinly. Lilli tried to think of some conciliatory remark, but at that moment the princess herself swept into the women’s hall with maidservants behind her.

“The first peaches!” Bellyra announced. “We can all gorge ourselves.”

A laughing maidservant set a big basket down on the table, and Elyssa pulled up a chair for the princess. Degwa turned her cold stare away from Lilli and let it warm. Although all the other women, even the servants, dug into the basket, Lilli waited until Elyssa shoved it her direction.

“Do have one, Lilli!” Elyssa said.

“Thank you, I will. I wasn’t sure—”

“Oh please!” Bellyra put in. “Do you think I’d be mingy to an exile?”

“It happens, my lady,” Degwa said. “Especially, or so I gather, among those around the false king.”

Lilli forced out a smile, then bit into her peach, wonderfully sweet and juicy. Summer comes earlier here, she thought. It seemed fitting, somehow. She reminded herself to tell Bevyan and Sarra this fancy—then remembered, of course, that she would never share a word with them again. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and found the others watching her.

“Are you all right, Lilli?” Elyssa said.

“My apologies. I was just thinking of my foster-mother. She died just a fortnight past, you see.”

“Oh! That saddens my heart,” Bellyra said. “No doubt it will take you some while to put your grief aside.”

“Her Highness is so kind.”

“I have my better moments, or so I’ve been told.” Bellyra smiled briefly, then turned to Degwa. “I have a message for you. From your own true love.”

“Oh don’t, Your Highness!” Degwa blushed furiously. “He’s such a bore!”

“One of my husband’s councillors,” Bellyra explained. “He thinks to better himself by marrying a noble-born widow.”

“Not Nevyn?” Lilli said.

“Alas, Degwa’s not had the luck. Oggyn’s his name. Nevyn would make an interesting husband, I should think.” The princess turned to Degwa. “But Oggyn most urgently requested you spare him a moment for some news he’s had.”

Degwa raised her eyes heavenward. The maidservants giggled, watching her.

“Do go,” Elyssa said, grinning. “Now I’m curious. Sacrifice yourself in our cause.”

“He said he’d be waiting near the door to the great hall,” Bellyra put in.

“Oh, very well.” Degwa rose with a dramatic sigh. “I shall do my duty to Her Highness, then. No doubt he’ll insist I walk with him a ways to earn my bit of news.”

A long walk, apparently—the women talked for some while before she returned. Bellyra and Elyssa took it upon themselves to tell Lilli the gossip of the dun: who might befriend her, who to keep at a safe distance. At first she merely listened, but a few words at a time she risked joining in to find her comments welcome. She had just begun to feel at ease when Degwa returned, striding into the chamber. With a furious glance Lilli’s way, she stood at the princess’s chair.

“And what did Oggyn have to say?” Bellyra said. “It must have been utterly dishonorable, from the look of you.”

“Not in the least, Your Highness. He told me that our guest was born a daughter of the Boar clan.”

Lilli felt herself turn cold all over. She laid a shaking hand on her throat.

“A Boar!” Degwa was near snarling. “How can you treat her so well?”

“Oh, for the love of the Holy Moon!” Bellyra snapped back. “She had the good sense to desert them, hasn’t she?”