old and decrepit though it was.’
Much to Maddyn’s surprise, everyone believed this to him less-than-satisfying tale. They wanted to believe it, he supposed, so they could stop thinking about these dark and troubling things. Later, when most of the men, including the prince and the captain, were asleep in their blankets, Maddyn heard a bit more of the truth as he and Aethan sat up with the old man at a dying fire.
‘You’re just the man I want,’ Nevyn said to Aethan. ‘You rode for the Boar up in Cantrae, didn’t you? Take a look at this pewter roundel. Is that pig the same heraldic device or some other version of a boar?’
‘It’s the gwerbret’s, sure enough.’ Aethan angled the bit of metal close to the last blazing log. ‘The curve of those long tusks gives it away, and I’ve been told that pointed mark on the back is the first letter of the word apred.’
‘So it is. That settles it, then. There was at least one Boarsman in that lodge this winter – although, truly, he could have been someone who was ousted from the warband, I suppose, and brought his old gear with him.’
‘I can’t imagine any of the lads I used to ride with treating a dead man that way.’
‘Ah. Well, the man this belonged to might well have been the man who was killed. He was murdered for trying to do an honourable thing. I did find out that much.’
‘You talked with the haunt?’ Maddyn found it hard to speak, and Aethan was staring horrified.
‘Not to say talked, but I asked questions and he could nod yes or no.’ The old man gave him a sly grin. ‘Don’t look so shocked, lad. You were mistaken for a ghost yourself once, if I remember rightly.’
‘True enough, but I wasn’t exactly dead.’
‘Well, while this poor fellow was a good bit less alive than you, he wasn’t exactly dead either. He is now, and gone to the gods for a reward, or so I hope.’ Nevyn considered for a moment, frowning at the roundel. ‘Tell me somewhat, Aethan. When you rode for Cantrae, did you ever hear any rumours of witchcraft and dark wizardry? Did anyone ever say that so-and-so had strange powers or the second sight or suchlike?’
Aethan started to shrug indifferently, then stiffened and winced, like a man who shifts his weight in the saddle only to pinch an old bruise.
‘An odd thing happened once, years back. I rode as a guard over the gwerbret’s widowed sister, you see, and once we went out into the countryside. It was late in the fall, but she insisted on taking a hawk with her. There’s naught to set it on, say I, but she laughed and said that she’d find the game she wanted. And she did, because cursed if she didn’t fly the thing at a common crow, and of course the hawk brought it right down. She took feathers from its wings and its tail and threw the rest away.’ He was silent for a long moment. ‘And what do you want those for, say I, and she laughed again and said she was going to ensorcel my heart. And she did, truly, but whether she used the wretched feathers or not, I wouldn’t know. She didn’t need them.’ Abruptly Aethan rose to his feet. ‘Is there aught else you want from me, my lord?’
‘Naught, and forgive me for opening an old wound.’
With a toss of his head Aethan strode off into the darkness. Maddyn hesitated, then decided it would be best to leave him alone with his ancient grief.
‘I am sorry,’ Nevyn said. ‘Did Aethan get thrown out of the warband for courting the gwerbret’s sister?’
‘He did, but things came to a bit more than fine words and flowers, or so I understand.’
‘Ah. I saw the Lady Merodda once. She was the most poisonous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. I wonder, lad. I truly wonder about all of this. Here, keep what you just heard to yourself, will you? The men have got enough to worry about as it is.’
‘And I don’t, I suppose.’
‘Oh here.’ Nevyn chuckled to himself. ‘As if you weren’t burning with curiosity.’
‘My heart was ice, sure enough. Well, my lord, I’m about snoring where I stand, and I’d best get some sleep.’
Once he lay down in his blankets, Maddyn drifted straight off, but he did wake once, not long before dawn, to see Nevyn still sitting up and staring into the last embers of the fire.
On the morrow a subdued troop of silver daggers rode straight home to Dun Drwloc. That night Nevyn summoned Maddyn and Caradoc to the king’s private chambers for a conference. Casyl had a map of the three kingdoms, drawn in great detail by the priests of Wmm, and, as he remarked, it had cost him far more than the weight of its thin parchment in gold. While Nevyn and the king chewed over the problems involved in getting Maryn to Cerrmor, Maddyn stared fascinated at the map in the flaring candlelight. Although he couldn’t read, he could pick out the rivers and the mountains, the Canaver and the Cantrae hills where he’d lived his early life, the long rivers of central Deverry running down from the northern mountains, and finally, the Aver El, the river with the foreign name whose source lay in the lake just outside the window of the conference room.
All the borders of the kingdoms and their provinces were there too, marked in red. Even without letters Maddyn could see that it was going to be a long ride and a dangerous one from Loc Drw down to Cerrmor. As long as the prince was in Pyrdon he was safe, but the Pyrdon border lay a good hundred miles from the border of the Cerrmor holdings. Part of his journey, therefore, would have to lie through hostile Cantrae lands.
‘It aches my heart that some enemy knows of Maryn’s Wyrd.’ Casyl’s voice brought Maddyn back to the present meeting. ‘What matters the most, of course, is where their lands are, and whether or not the prince is going to have to pass through them, though I can’t help wondering just who they are, and where their loyalties lie.’
‘I strongly suspect, my liege,’ Nevyn said, ‘that their loyalties lie only to themselves, but I’ll wager they’re not above selling information to whoever can buy it.’
Caradoc nodded in a grim agreement.
‘There’s mercenary troops, and then there’s mercenary spies,’ the captain pronounced. ‘I’ve come across a few of the latter. Fit for raven food and naught else, they were. All the honour of stoats.’
‘If that’s the case,’ Casyl went on, ‘then I’ll wager the chief buyer for their foul goods is the king in Cantrae.’
‘Don’t forget, my liege, that Cerrmor is doubtless boiling over with intrigue at the moment,’ Nevyn said. ‘For a long while now there have been omens of the coming of the True King as well as much speculation as to his name. I’m sure that by now Maryn’s bloodlines are well known there. And then we’ll have a good many ambitious men who won’t see why the omens couldn’t apply to them or their sons – with the right trimming and fitting, that is.’
‘Just so.’ The king traced out the Pyrdon border with his fingertip. ‘There could be several different enemies laying for our prince. Here, Nevyn, do you know who’s regent down in Cerrmor? Or has the fighting over the throne already begun?’
‘I fear the latter, my liege, but I don’t truly know. If you’ll excuse me, I intend to find out.’
The king nodded a dismissal, taking this hint of dweomer with a casual indifference. It was odd, Maddyn thought to himself, just how easily one did get used to dweomer, as if it were the natural
