Katharine Kerr - Darkspell

“It’s a pity in a way that I’m not ill,” he said gloomily. “Now I’ll have to face the beastly gwerbret this afternoon. Now, listen, Jill, say as little as possible. Stick to the tale about being only my bodyguard and leave the rest to me.”

“We spent hours on this story,” Bocc put in. “It’s a beauty, it is.”

When they left, Nevyn insisted on going to the temple of Bel down by the river, so that he could put Ogwern’s stolen coin into the cauldron of donations for the poor. As they walked along, Jill kept nervously looking around, half expecting that enemies would spring out of the walls.

“Nevyn, how did the dead man’s shade get that poison into Ogwern’s ale?”

“What? Oh, here, I can lie just as well as a silver dagger if you believed all that nonsense. I just made up the medical lore on the spot to ease Ogwern’s mind. He needs to be on his guard, but I couldn’t tell him the truth, because he wouldn’t have believed it.”

“You mean it’s not a real poison?”

“It’s not. The name’s in the ancient Rhwman tongue, and it means ‘emerald-colored little torment for fat thieves.’”

“Then what did happen?”

Nevyn glanced around at the riverbank. Down by the water’s edge were a couple of boys, guarding the cows that grazed there. Otherwise they were alone on the common.

“The dead man was working on Ogwern’s mind the way he tried to work on yours,” Nevyn said. “I doubt if he would have driven you to suicide, because if he had, Blaen would have taken your effects into custody, and then they wouldn’t have had a chance to get the opal. But he did want to torment you, to make you suffer. Since there’s somewhat of a link between us, I could set seals over you from a distance, but there was naught I could do for our poor thief until I got here. I’ll make sure he has a peaceful night tonight.”

“But what about the chickens? It sounds so stupid, talking about chicken blood.”

“Not at all. Freshly spilled blood gives off a certain substance that the shade needed. He could have fed off that substance to strengthen himself.”

Jill felt so ill that it must have shown on her face, because Nevyn laid a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Do you see why I glossed the matter over for Ogwern with a babble of comforting words? Ah, ye gods! Never did I wish such evil things to come upon you. I’ve tried to leave you alone to work out your Wyrd in your own way, but now your Wyrd seems to have driven you right into danger.”

“So it seems. Was it truly my Wyrd that brought me here?”

“Let’s put it this way—it was sheer chance that brought you to that dead horse in the Auddglyn, but it was your Wyrd that showed you the gem in the grass. If the Wildfolk didn’t trust you, you never would have seen it. Now, let’s get back to the dun. I’m not going to say one word more out here in public.”

It was about two hours after noon when Rhodry finally reached the south gate of Dun Hiraedd. He dismounted, then led his two horses through a small crowd of farmers, carrying produce and chickens to the daily market. Lounging just inside the gate were a pair of city guards. As he passed by, he noticed one mutter something to the other; then they stepped forward and blocked his way. Out of the shadow of the wall stepped two more; one caught the horses’ reins, the other his sword arm.

“Silver dagger, are you? No trouble, now, lad, but you’re coming with us.”

“What in the hells is this?”

“His grace’s orders, that’s what. ‘Keep watch for a silver dagger who looks like an Eldidd man and bring him long.’ We’ve had enough trouble in town lately from your kind.”

“What’s Jill done?”

“Oh, you know her, do you?” the first guard said with an unpleasant grin. “She seems to have somewhat to do with a man who got himself killed, that’s what. His grace should be holding malover right about now, so we’ll take you right along.”

Rhodry was too worried to protest when the guards disarmed him. As they marched through the streets, he kept a sullen silence. He’d been hoping to avoid Blaen, who (or so he thought) doubtless despised him as a dishonored outcast, and now he was faced with the prospect of seeing him again only to beg for Jill’s life. And what’s Jill done? he thought. If I get her safely out of this, I’m going to beat her black-and-blue! In the ward of the dun, the guards turned their horses over to a page, then shoved him inside the broch. Rhodry hadn’t been inside Dun Hiraedd for two years, when he’d come for Blaen’s wedding. He looked around dazed at the great hall where once he’d dined as an honored guest; then the guards hustled him up the spiral staircase to the second floor. The heavy oak doors of the chamber of justice stood open, and he and the guards stepped just inside and waited.

In the curve of the wall, under a rank of windows, Blaen sat at a table with a scribe at his left hand and two councillors at his right. Since there were no priests in attendance, Rhodry could tell that this was merely some sort of hearing, not full malover. Kneeling on the floor in front of the gwerbret were Jill, a couple of unprepossessing young men, and an enormously fat fellow. Wardens stood about with quarterstaves in their hands. In the corner where the curved stone wall met a wickerwork partition sat Nevyn in a half-round chair. Rhodry felt profoundly relieved, knowing that the old man would never let Jill come to harm.

“Very well, Ogwern,” Blaen was saying. “I admit that the dead man’s threats were sufficient for you to want a bodyguard.”

“It was most horrible, Your Grace,” the fat fellow said. “And a poor but honest innkeep like myself has no time to train with a blade.”

“Even a porker should have tusks.”

“His grace is ever a quick man with his jests, but I’d rather hire tusks than grow them. Truly, the silver dagger was an excellent bargain, seeing as the nasty fellow actually drew on me.”

Blaen nodded, then glanced at Jill.

“Well, silver dagger, I begin to think you were justified in drawing first blood.”

“My thanks, Your Grace, and truly, I had no way of knowing that the fellow was going to poison himself.”

At that peculiar statement Rhodry forgot himself enough to step forward. With an oath the guards grabbed him and pulled him back. Blaen turned toward the interruption.

“Bring him forward. So you caught this miserable lout of a silver dagger, did you?”

“Riding in the south gate as bold as brass, Your Grace,” said a guard. “And he’s got a Western Hunter with him that I’ll wager is stolen.”

“No doubt. He always was too fond of other people’s horses.”

Although Blaen was trying to suppress a grin, Rhodry caught him at it.

“Blaen, you bastard!” Rhodry snapped. “This is one of your cursed jests.”

Although everyone in the room gasped at the insult, Blaen burst out laughing and rose, striding across the chamber to grab his cousin’s hand.

“Well, so it is. I thought we’d have a laugh by arresting you like the silver dagger you are. Ah, by the gods, it gladdens my heart to see you.”

As they shook hands, Rhodry felt like weeping.

“It gladdens my heart to see you, too,” he said. “But what are you doing with my woman?”

“Naught, I assure you. I’ve got more honor around women than some of my kin I could mention.”

With a grin Rhodry punched him on the shoulder. Everyone in the chamber was staring at them, and Blaen suddenly remembered that he had a judicial proceeding on hand.

“Go stand with old Nevyn, will you? Let’s finish this blasted thing up.”

When Rhodry did so, Nevyn gave him a thin, dry smile, but the old man’s eyes were deeply troubled. Rhodry found out why when the warden stepped forward to give evidence about a stranger who took poison rather than face the gwerbret and who wore some sort of witchcraft talisman around his neck. Blaen considered the matter for a moment, announcing that he found no fault with anyone over the death, then closed the hearing.