The Red Wyvern: Book One of the Dragon Mage (41 page)

The great hall had fallen silent to listen. Nevyn felt torn. Better than any man there he knew just how corrupt she was and how cruel, but then, indeed, were any of them better enough than she to judge her? Hadn’t he used his own dweomer to put a king on his throne and to meddle in the lives of thousands of people thereby? Hadn’t his omens and his spells of glamor caused the deaths of thousands in the king’s cause? When Maryn looked his way for guidance, Nevyn mouthed a single word, “mercy.”

“Your words have truth in them, my lady,” Maryn said. “You would have made a king a splendid councillor if only you’d been born a man. You’ve pled your own case well enough, certainly, woman or no.”

“My liege!” Maddyn howled, the ringing pain of a well-trained voice.

“You!” Merodda leapt up and spun to face him. “You were Aethan’s friend, you say? Well, by the gods, I loved him. I would have run away with him, but my brother found out. Ah ye gods, I was sure he’d kill us both! I was a little stone in his game of carnoic, a widow he could marry off to get some alliance or stop some rebellion, and here I’d dared soil myself with a common-born rider. What could I do?”

“You’re lying!” Maddyn snarled. “Aethan told me the tale, and it was a different one.”

“And how could he have known what my brother—”

“Oh hold your tongue, slut!” Maddyn spun round to face the prince. “She deserves death.”

Nevyn stepped firmly in front of Maddyn and forced him back. Back in the crowd a woman cried out, a long wail of pain. Nevyn spun around, expecting to see Lilli, but the woman who wept was someone he’d never seen before—so Merodda had had at least one friend, apparently. But where was Lilli? He turned, scanning the crowd, and finally saw her halfway up the staircase. She stood watching, her face as expressionless as her mother’s, while Tieryn Anasyn stood behind, his hands tight on her shoulders.

“Does anyone speak for Lady Merodda?” Maryn said.

On the staircase Lilli started forward, but Anasyn grabbed her and hauled her back, talking all the while. Nevyn caught Maryn’s attention and pointed her out.

“Tieryn Anasyn!” the prince called out. “Let your foster-sister come forward.”

The crowd in the great hall sighed in a vast murmur as it parted to let the lady and her foster-brother through. Lilli kept her head high and her expression composed, but Nevyn could see her trembling. She curtsied to the prince without looking at her mother. When she started to speak, Anasyn drowned her out.

“My prince,” Anasyn said. “Merodda had my mother murdered. I add my voice to the silver dagger’s.”

Lilli opened her mouth, but the prince spoke first.

“Tieryn Anasyn, my thanks,” Maryn said. “With all that’s happened, I’d forgotten that.”

“My liege.” Nevyn decided that it was time he spoke up. “I can understand the tieryn’s desire to avenge his mother, and the bard’s to avenge his friend, but I’ll still ask you to spare the woman. My reasons will come clear later.”

The prince hesitated, thinking hard. Lilli seemed to have given up trying to speak; she was leaning back against her foster-brother as if she were too exhausted to stand on her own. From behind him Nevyn heard Maddyn swear; then the bard shoved him bodily to one side and strode forward.

“My liege,” Maddyn said, “once not so long ago you granted me a boon, that whatever I asked you for should be mine. I ask for her life, that you hang her as she deserves.”

“Maddo!” Nevyn snarled. “Don’t!”

“I will, curse it all!” Maddyn fell on his knees in front of Maryn. “My liege, I ask you now for the boon you granted me.”

“By all the gods!” Prince Maryn said. “I’d meant you to have somewhat glorious, not this!”

“My liege, this is the boon I ask for. And so no man will speak ill of you, let it be known that it’s my demand that’s caused the hanging of her. Have your scribe write it into the judgment.”

“Very well,” the prince said. “Lady Lillorigga, it aches my heart after all you’ve done for me, but I can’t deny a man a boon I granted before the gods and my vassals. I hope and pray that you understand this.”

Lilli merely trembled for an answer. When Anasyn put a brotherly arm around her, she seemed not to notice. With a helpless glance Nevyn’s way, the prince shrugged, palms upward.

“So be it,” Prince Maryn went on. “Lady Merodda of the Boar, you will hang by the neck until dead, out in the courtyard this morrow noon.” He glanced around, then gestured. “Guards! Take her away.”

Merodda flung her arms above her head as if begging the gods, then let them fall to her sides. When the guards grabbed her by the arms, she let her eyes flick their way once. As they marched her out, she looked only straight ahead. In Anasyn’s arms Lilli began sobbing—for Lady Bevyan as much as for her mother, Nevyn assumed. Maddyn got up and bowed low to the king.

“My liege, my humble thanks.” His smile was terrifying. “I’ll glorify your name forever for this.”

The prince inclined his head. With a gesture to Branoic to follow, Maddyn bowed, and left the prince’s presence. Maryn watched him as he sat down with the few remaining silver daggers, then turned to Nevyn.

“I hope to all the gods,” the prince said, “that I did the right thing.”

“You did the only thing you could do, my liege,” Nevyn said. “Whatever Wyrd was born from this will fall on Maddyn’s head, not yours.”

Nevyn turned on his heel and rushed out after the guards. They were marching Merodda across the ward to one of the side brochs, and it seemed that the men among the former king’s servants must have hated her, because a crowd of them were jeering and calling her names. She walked proudly past, head high, eyes fixed on naught but the tower ahead of her. Nevyn trailed along behind until the guards had led her inside, then caught up with them at the foot of a winding staircase that led up. Fortunately, one of the soldiers recognized him.

“I want a word with the lady,” Nevyn said. “Alone.”

“Of course, my lord.” He glanced around. “Here’s an empty room. We’ll be right outside here should you need us.”

After the soldiers hustled the prisoner inside, Nevyn shut the heavy door and leaned against it. Smashed furniture lay across the stone floor of the narrow chamber. Merodda glanced at it, then back to him.

“Who are you, old man?”

“Brour’s teacher.”

She flung up her head and took a step back.

“Indeed.” Nevyn said, smiling. “I understand a great deal more than the prince does about this supposed ‘witchcraft’ of yours, my lady.”

“What do you want with me?”

“The answer to a question. If you tell me what I want to know, I’ll do my level best to help you escape. Your nephew Braemys escaped with some of his men. He’s doubtless in Cantrae, waiting to bargain from a position of strength. You’d have somewhere to go. I can get you a good horse and plenty of provisions for the journey.”

“I see.” Life flooded back to her eyes. “Will you swear you’ll get me out of here if I tell you what you want to know?”

“I’ll swear on the dweomer itself, and I’ll wager that Brour told you just what that means.”

“He did. Ask your question.”

“Many years ago, when Maryn was still a prince in Pyrdon, a retainer of yours worked an evil spell. A lead tablet, it was, carved with words right out of the Dawntime. What do they mean? How do I lift it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why that?” Merodda tossed her head and looked away, her mouth working in pain. “Why of all the things in the world must you ask that?”

“Oh here, do tell me.” Nevyn softened his voice. “What’s it to you now? The spell failed, after all.”

“Now you’re the liar.” With a grimace she began pacing back and forth on a tight and narrow track. “You wouldn’t be here questioning me if you thought the dweomer spent and over with.”

“True spoken. I’ll admit it.”

Merodda stopped and turned to face him.

“Not that! I’d tell you anything but that, but by the Dark Goddess herself, I’d rather die than lift that spell. Or will you put me to the torture? Do your worst! You won’t break me.”

“Never would I use torture, not even for a matter this grave.”

She started to speak, her mouth half a sneer, then stopped.

“Nor would I let anyone else do such a thing.” Nevyn kept his voice quiet. “The dweomer of Light would never allow it. Please tell me, and I’ll protect you, no matter what boon the prince granted.”

She was searching his face as if she were scrying out the truth of what he said. For a moment he thought he had her—he could see the beginning of something like trust in her eyes—but she tossed her head and stepped back.

“Your prince has his wretched victory,” Merodda said. “The man who loved me lies dead, and even if I got away, with the prince’s judgment upon me I’d end up begging some temple for sanctuary. My clan is dead, my king’s imprisoned, you and your precious prince have stripped everything from me, even my daughter.” Her voice caught, but she steadied it. “Well, you shan’t take my vengeance, too! I’d rather hang than give that up.”

“Vengeance, is it?”

She swore and turned her back, her hands so tight in fists that her knuckles went white. Nevyn calmly walked around to face her.

“So, my lady, a slip on your part! I’m beginning to puzzle this out. The dead infant buried along with the tablet—the ensorcelment’s meant to ruin the beginnings of things, isn’t it? His victory, his reign, poisoned from the start! You’ve told me much already, no matter how clever you think you are.”

Merodda smiled, a narrow-eyed gloat.

“Indeed, old man?” She spat on the floor at his feet. “Then stop it if you can!”

“Guards!” Nevyn turned away. “Come take her!”

Nevyn unbarred the door and flung it wide. The soldiers hurried in, and as she strode over to meet them, Merodda burst out laughing.

When Nevyn returned to the great hall, the sight of the empty High King’s chair next to Maryn hit him like a blow. No wonder a white mare had proven impossible to find! Merodda’s curse had begun its work even then.

It was late in the evening before Nevyn had a chance to talk with Maddyn. He searched for him through the dun, then went out to the encampment on the hillside below and found where the silver daggers had pitched their tents. Maddyn sat by a small fire under the open sky and played his harp in a medley of songs, while all around him the Wildfolk danced and leapt like the flames. Nevyn sat down on a stump of log, and Maddyn let the music die away.

“Have you come to scold me? Because I had the king crush a viper?”

“I’ve not,” Nevyn said. “Because I doubt me you’d listen.”

“Well, by the gods!” Maddyn smacked his open hand on the harp strings and made them chime a discord. “What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t avenge my friend?”

“I don’t know.”

“And then there’s Lilli’s foster-mother, too. Merodda had her butchered like a hog.”

“So she did, but I doubt me if you were remembering Lady Bevyan today.”

“Well, what of it? I want Merodda dead. Tomorrow I’m going to stand in the crowd and laugh when the hangman shoves her off the drop. And then Aethan will finally have peace in the Otherlands.”

Nevyn merely sighed. In the fire a log burned through and fell, sending a long plume of flame into the dark above. And what am I going to say? Nevyn thought. How could he explain without touching on the great secret, that each soul lives many lives, not one? Aethan was doubtless long reborn, and Merodda and Maddyn both would be, but now a chain of Wyrd would link them, whether they wanted the binding or not.

When Lilli asked, one of Maryn’s pages told her where Lady Merodda had been taken, a proper room in a side broch instead of the common jail as a small sign of respect to the noble-born. She’d brought coins to bribe the guards at the door, but one of them, a stout man with greying hair, recognized her.

“It’s the lady’s daughter,” he said to the others. “I don’t see any harm in letting her say farewell to her mother.”

The others nodded; one of them lifted the heavy bar while the second opened the door a crack and let her slip in.

By the light of a single candle Merodda was sitting on a narrow bed, little more than a straw mattress and a blanket. In the uncertain light, and, with her blond hair down and untidy, she looked no older than her daughter. Lilli felt herself gasp for breath while Merodda considered her with shadowed eyes.

“Why are you here?” she said at last.

“I don’t know,” Lilli said. “But I had to come.”

Merodda sighed and leaned back against the wall.

“Do you want me to leave?” Lilli went on.

“I don’t. I’ve been wondering somewhat myself. Would you have spoken for me if Anasyn had let you?”

Lilli’s heart pounded once.

“It’s because of Bevva,” Lilli said. “I felt torn apart.”

“Ah. So you wouldn’t have spoken.”

“I don’t know. It was too late, anyway.” Lilli heard her voice choke and tremble. “But there’s Brour, too. He’s dead, isn’t he? You had him killed.”

“Not I, but Burcan. That was his doing.” Merodda got up to face her. “And you’re a fine one to talk, betraying your kin and clan! What did you tell your precious Prince Maryn? Where all the gates are in the dun? How many men we had? It must have been somewhat like that. I heard him talking about all you’d done for him. You traitorous little bitch!”

Lilli stepped back and found herself against the door.

“You little slut!” Merodda snarled. “I rue the day I ever birthed you. I wish I’d smothered you with your swaddling bands. You’ve betrayed your own mother and your clan.”

“Oh, have I now? The Boars were never my clan!”

“Just what do you mean by that?”

“You gave me away, didn’t you? Bevva was my real mother, not you. And when you killed her, you gave me away again. What do I owe to you? Just a lot of misery! And if my father had lived, I’d have been part of his clan anyway.”

“Oh, indeed?” All at once Merodda laughed, a cold little mutter under her breath. “You’re sure of that, are you?”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway.” All at once Lilli realized what she had come to learn. “Why did you have Bevva killed? Why?”

“It doesn’t matter? Oh, doesn’t it? You would have inherited Garedd’s lands, but he wasn’t your father. I’ve lied your whole life, my precious little daughter, lied to give you something that wasn’t rightfully yours. You’re a bastard, my fine Lillorigga! You can tell that to your precious prince.”