The Red Wyvern: Book One of the Dragon Mage (22 page)

BOOK: The Red Wyvern: Book One of the Dragon Mage
10.96Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“I don’t care, Your Highness! She could be a spy and a traitor.” Degwa began pacing back and forth. “All my life I’ve heard naught but ill about the Boar clan. Why should we trust this little stranger?”

“Hold your tongue, Decci!” Elyssa snapped. “You’re being wretchedly rude, and you know it.”

Degwa crossed her arms over her chest. The princess sighed.

“Lillorigga of the Boar,” Bellyra said. “Are you a traitor?”

“I’m not, Your Highness! Oh, please believe me! How could I be a spy anyway? When the prince leads his army out, the regent and his men can count them easier than I can, can’t they?”

“Just so. And I can’t see you murdering my husband by moonlight one night, either. He’s quite a bit bigger than you.”

At this joke Degwa practically snarled.

“Please don’t,” Lilli said to Degwa. “I’m not a Boar anymore, anyway. I’ve no kin or clan except for Peddyc and Anasyn and the Rams of Hendyr.”

“I rather thought so.” Bellyra stood by pushing herself up on the chair arms, then heaving herself and the latest heir to her feet. “Ye gods, I am pregnant, aren’t I? Degwa, Lilli is no longer a Boar, and thus what you heard about them doesn’t really apply, does it?”

“Whatever my princess commands me to believe,” Degwa said. “I shall believe it.”

“It’s not a question of believing in me like a goddess or suchlike. Nevyn’s vouched for Lilli, you know.”

“Oh.” Degwa turned scarlet again. “Forgive me.”

The three women looked at Lilli, who sat fumbling for words. Nevyn again, and he’d vouched for her. Why? She could ask him, she knew. If she dared. Elyssa caught her arm.

“You’ve gone pale. Are you going to faint?”

“I’m not,” Lilli said. “Everything’s just so difficult.”

Degwa stared at the floor.

“It aches my heart,” Lilli said to her, “that the Boars have brought you and yours the same kind of grief they’ve brought to me and mine.”

The silence grew. Lilli felt that she could hear her own breathing, ragged in her chest. At last Degwa looked up.

“I’d have peace between us,” Degwa said.

“And so would I.”

When Lilli held out her hand, Degwa took it in a limp clasp, briefly but long enough. Bellyra and Elyssa exchanged an approving nod.

“What I want to know,” the princess said, “is why Oggyn took it upon himself to tell you this.”

Degwa frowned, thinking it through.

“I don’t know,” she said at last. “But he thought she’d be better off locked up somewhere, so the king could bargain with her as a hostage.”

For a moment Lilli nearly did faint. She steadied herself, then slipped off her chair to kneel in front of the princess.

“Please don’t send me back.” She had to force out each word from a trembling throat. “They’d kill me if you did.”

“Of course I won’t, and I shan’t let Maryn do any such thing, either.” Bellyra reached out one hand. “Do get up. I hate it when people kneel to me. Come sit down again. Decci, can’t you see? Oggyn’s got one of his beastly schemes in mind, and he was using you to get at me.”

Degwa blushed scarlet; she tried to speak, then turned and ran out of the room. Lilli rose and flopped into a welcome chair.

“My humble thanks, Your Highness,” Lilli said.

Bellyra dismissed the thanks with a careless wave.

“When it comes to the Wolf clan, Decci never thinks,” Elyssa muttered. “And that man plays her like a harp, I swear it.”

“He’s the bald one with the beard?” Lilli said.

“He is. It always looks to me like his hair slipped off his head and got caught under his chin.”

The princess laughed, then smothered a sudden yawn.

“I’ve really got to lie down and nap,” Bellyra announced. “I’m ever so tired. My ladies, please do as you wish.”

Both Elyssa and Lilli stood and curtsied, then stayed standing while the princess and her servants left the hall.

“I have to go speak to the chief cook,” Elyssa said. “If Nevyn’s coming up to talk with you, you can just wait here for him.”

“My thanks.” Lilli curtsied to her as well. “I shall.”

Nevyn arrived not long after, all good humor, but his smile struck her as dangerous. She considered feigning a headache to get out of this little conversation, but sooner or later, she knew, she would have to face him.

“And a good afternoon to you, Lilli,” Nevyn said.

“And the same to you, my lord. It’s very kind of you to spare time for such as me.”

“Indeed?” He raised one bushy eyebrow. “I was thinking you’d be dreading talking with me.”

Lilli forced a smile.

“Let’s sit down. In the window seat, perhaps? After you, my lady.”

They walked together across the wide room. As Lilli passed it, sunlight fell across the silver casket on its little table nearby. It was a lovely thing, about a foot high, and its two sides rose in curves, so that the lid arched up to fit over them and sweep down again to close in front. All over this curve of silver, roses bloomed—engraved, of course, but so cunningly drawn that they seemed almost real. Only half-thinking, Lilli reached out and ran her fingers over the pattern.

“Oh!” She pulled her hand back fast and rubbed her fingers. They felt as cold as if she’d clutched an icicle.

“What is it, Lilli?” Nevyn said. “What’s so wrong?”

“Naught.” Yet she could not stop the chill that ran down her back and made her tremble. “I, uh, it must be the drafts.”

“Nonsense! What did you feel when you touched the casket?”

Nevyn was watching her with such honest concern that Lilli could no longer think of him as a possible enemy.

“Somewhat evil,” she said. “I don’t know how to describe it, my lord, but somewhat evil and foul dwells inside that thing. The princess should throw it into the sea and be rid of it. You must feel it, too. How can you let her keep it in here?”

“The princess knows about the evil. She’s chosen to guard it rather than let it fall into the hands of those who might use it to harm the prince.”

With a long sigh Lilli sat down on the cushioned window seat. Nevyn sat at the other end and folded his hands across his stomach.

“I think me it’s best we be honest with each other,” he said. “About dweomer.”

Lilli laid a hand at her throat and turned to look out. Directly across, sunny towers rose at the far side of the ward. A few mare’s-tail clouds hung against the sky, and seabirds wheeled and called.

“I think me that you were born with a great talent for dweomer,” Nevyn said. “And then someone taught you a few tricks about using it. I’ve always felt that there must be evil magic in Dun Deverry, but truly, there’s none of that about you.”

“I should hope not, my lord. Never did I want to work anyone harm.”

“I can see that. When you were scrying—you must remember the night our paths crossed—when you were scrying, was someone else guiding you? Come now, lass, do tell me. It’s important for your welfare, you know. My guess is that someone was riding your will like a horse. If so, it’s dangerous and could have done you harm.”

“That’s what he—what I was told.”

“He?” Nevyn sounded amused. “Who’s he? Your teacher? Was he the one controlling you?”

Lilli considered lies, but she was well and truly trapped.

“He wasn’t,” she said. “My mother did that.”

“Your mother? By the gods! Lady Merodda?”

“She is that, truly.”

“From what little I know of her, it seems like she’s the sort of person who would exploit another’s gifts that way. In fact, I’ve long suspected her of being the one who made the horrible thing,” he pointed at the casket, “hidden under those roses.”

“It could well be, my lord. She bragged to me once that the Usurper could never win, because mighty dweomers were working against him.”

“The Usurper? But, of course, that’s what you all would have called him. Do you think your mother wound the spell herself?”

“I don’t. She told me that she’d found a man who could lay snares and traps, ones that the Usurper could never get free of.”

“I see. But she must know some magicks of her own.”

“She knows a lot of dweomer. She learned it from someone who came to her long before I was born. She talked of him now and again, and I think, my lord, that he was your evil man, from what the servants told me. They hated him, blood and bone, but I didn’t know him at all. I was in fosterage, and he was my mother’s retainer. Wait—I wonder if he were the one who laid those traps and snares?”

“It’s a sound enough wager, I’d say. What happened to this man?”

“My uncle slew him before I got back from Bevyan’s. It was in the Boar’s hall one evening, and he was drunk, my mother said—her sorcerer, not Uncle Burcan—and he insulted my mother’s honor somehow. So Burcan drew and killed him on the spot.”

Nevyn swore like one of the riders.

“My apologies,” he said. “I forgot myself.”

“You look so upset, my lord. I should think you’d be glad he’s dead.”

“Indeed? I have no idea of how to unwind that spell.” Nevyn gestured at the casket. “I’d always hoped to catch the man who worked it and force him, one way or another, to tell me how. He won’t be telling me anything now, will he?”

“Oh. Well, truly.”

“What puzzles me is the way you could sense the evil. I supervised the sealing of that casket. When we were done, I couldn’t sense dweomer upon it, not the slightest trace. And yet you touch it, just lay a finger upon it, and immediately you know there’s somewhat wrong.”

“I don’t know how I did it, though. I’d tell you if I did.”

“Oh, I believe you. Well, if your mother has somewhat to do with working the spell, maybe we can worm it out of her—if we ever see her again.” For a long moment Nevyn thought something through. “Well, there’s naught I can do about that now,” he said at last. “So, then—later your mother found herself another man who knew secret things?”

Here was the crux. Lilli refused to betray Brour, who’d been so good to her in his way. Yet, as she thought of Brour, she felt an omen growing in her throat, as if she’d swallowed something so hot that she must spit it out or choke to death.

“He’s dead, anyway,” she said aloud. “Brour. The one who taught me.” She felt tears gather and spill. “He said he’d studied with you once.”

Nevyn made an odd sound—a grunt of pain.

“My mother must have had him caught and killed,” Lilli went on. “He was trying to escape Dun Deverry.”

“Poor little Brour,” Nevyn said. “Poor little talented dolt! It aches my heart to hear it, for all that he stole from me and ran.”

“That was your book? I mean—”

“I’ll wager it was, if he had a book of dweomer secrets. A big thing, bound in leather, and full of Greggyn lore?”

“That’s the one, truly. Just from things he said, I figured he’d done somewhat shameful here.”

“I’ve never known a man who lusted after a lass as badly as Brour lusted after that book. So one night he took it, for all the good it did him.” Nevyn shook his head. “Ah well, at least I know the end of his tale.”

Lilli wiped her eyes on her sleeve. I should be getting used to losing people, she thought.

“How much did Brour teach you?” Nevyn said.

“Not much. We were just starting. I have this—this knack for seeing omens. Not scrying things out, just seeing omens. I never knew what they meant, because my mother would interpret them, you see, but never in front of me.”

Nevyn blinked several times, rapidly.

“Try telling me a bit more about this,” he said. “How do you see omens?”

“Well, sometimes they just come to me as words, and I’d blurt them out just like now, when I knew Brour was dead. So I’d blurt out somewhat about the war, and my mother would notice, and she’d ask me for details and suchlike. And then she and Brour made up a basin of black ink. I’d look in it and see things. It felt like I was dreaming, but I could hear my mother’s voice when she asked me questions.”

“So, they were using you like a line of hooks to troll for fish, eh? Very dangerous, that, very very dangerous.”

“I sometimes feared it would drive me mad.”

“That, too, but I was wondering: do you ever have trouble catching your breath?”

“Often, my lord.” Lilli paused, utterly startled. “What does that have to do with seeing omens?”

“Rather a lot, actually, but it would take far more time than we have now to explain. Curse this war! It’s always getting in the way.” Nevyn paused, thinking. “In a few days I’ll be riding north with the prince. Until then I’ll try to spare you what moments I can, but they won’t be many. Lilli, when the summer’s fighting is over, I’ll want to talk about these matters with you. You’ve got a strange gift, all right, and you’ve got to learn to control it. If you don’t, it could kill you.”

Lilli tried to speak, but she felt herself gaping like a halfwit.

“There, there,” Nevyn said. “You’re not in danger at the moment. You do look exhausted, though. I suggest you lie down and rest before dinner.”

“I will, my lord.” She found her voice at last. “You’ve given me much to think on.”

For courtesy’s sake she walked him to the door. When Nevyn opened it, Degwa nearly fell into the room. She started to speak, then blushed, running a nervous hand through her hair.

“My apologies,” Degwa stammered. “I was just reaching for the door, and then it opened, and I’m afraid I was ever so startled.”

“The apologies are mine, then,” Nevyn said.

Degwa ran across the women’s hall and hurried through the doorway that led to the sleeping quarters for the serving women and servants. Nevyn raised one bushy eyebrow at her retreat, then bowed to Lilli.

“We’ll talk more,” he said. “When it’s private.”

After he left, Lilli stood in the doorway and listened to her heart pound. How much had Degwa heard of their strange talk, she wondered, and would she be running to Oggyn with it?

As Nevyn clattered down the staircase from the women’s hall, he was thinking about Brour. Here he’d tried to train the lad right, and what did he do? Not just steal from his master, but endanger the very life of an innocent like Lilli! It’s just as well he’s dead, Nevyn thought. For his sake. If I’d gotten hold of him …

The long shadows of late afternoon were falling across the ward. Servants hurried back and forth, carrying firewood and water to the cookhouse. At the gates guards shouted a greeting, and in a clatter of hooves the silver daggers rode in with their captain, Caradoc, at their head, and his second in command, Owaen, beside him. Caradoc’s hair had gone mostly grey and his moustaches completely so, but his narrow dark eyes were as shrewd as ever.

Other books

Covenant by Maria Rachel Hooley
The Wild Bunch 3 Casa by O'Dare, Deirdre
Share You by Rene Folsom
Cultural Cohesion by Clive James
The Queen Bee of Bridgeton by DuBois, Leslie
Hexes and Hemlines by Juliet Blackwell