The Gold Falcon. Katharine Kerr
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don’t need to be kind –’
‘Do hold your tongue and listen! I told her that it would be like marrying my brother. You can’t possibly want to marry me, anyway.’
‘Well, I don’t, truly.’ At last he looked at her. ‘It would be like marrying my sister.’
She burst out laughing, and in a moment he joined her.
‘And you’re not a coward,’ Branna said at last. ‘Everyone knows that Uncle won’t let you go to war. It’s not your choice.’
‘How do you know that they think such?’
‘Because I heard a lot of people talking about it when I was still back with Da. Da and his friends think Uncle Cadryc’s daft when it comes to you.’
Mirryn thought this over while he cut a chunk of bread in half with his table dagger. He handed her one of the pieces.
‘Truly?’ he said. ‘You’re not just trying to soothe my feelings?’
‘Not in the least! It’s quite true. Butter, please?’
Mirryn slid the crock across to her and thought some more. ‘My thanks,’ he said finally. ‘That gladdens my heart to hear.’
Branna was about to tell him more, but Cadryc himself was striding over to the table, with Aunt Galla trotting after. Branna rose, curtsied to them both, then sat down again when Galla took her place. For the rest of the meal they chatted about trivial things.
Later that day Salamander sought Branna out. To get a moment’s peace from the busy, dusty ward she had climbed up the catwalk ladders to the top of the dun wall. By leaning between two crenels she could look out on a long green view, striped here and there with the west-flowing streams that would eventually join the Melyn. She was thinking of very little when she saw, out of the corner of her eye, something gleaming. She turned to look, and farther down the catwalk stood the figure of the old man in his ragged clothes, holding out a glowing opal. Branna caught her breath with a gasp, and he disappeared.
Am I seeing things? she wondered. Or is he one of the Wildfolk? Although the figure reminded her of the man named Nevyn that she’d seen in her dreams, he looked somewhat different. She had never had a dream such as that one, when the opal had glowed like a candle flame, nor about any such gem. The old man seemed to be promising to give her something mysterious but beautiful, a rare gift indeed, if only she would come closer and speak to him. But what if it were a trap, and the gem the bait? Standing in the summer sun, she shivered and clasped her hands together to keep them warm. Don’t be a dolt! she told herself. Why would anyone want to trap you?
A pleasant voice hailed her from below. Salamander came climbing up the rickety wood ladder to join her on the wall. She started to make some mundane greeting, then stopped, shocked into silence. Wildfolk swarmed around him – crystalline sylphs, winged sprites, pale warty gnomes.
‘Good morrow,’ Salamander said. ‘Is somewhat the matter?’
‘Not at all, not at all. My apologies. You took me by surprise, is all.’
‘Then I should apologize to you. I just thought I’d keep you company, if that’s acceptable.’
‘It is, but I’d best get back to my duties. My aunt will be looking for me.’
‘Perhaps later, then?’
‘Perhaps.’ She hesitated, but the gerthddyn was certainly amusing, and good-looking as well. ‘I might have a moment later.’
She swung herself onto the catwalk, then climbed down the ladder a little faster than was strictly safe. She could only wonder why she’d found it so frightening, that the Wildfolk followed Salamander around. It seemed to her that the world had turned suddenly strange. From the moment I met Neb, she thought. That’s when it all started. She felt that she should know what Neb’s arrival in her life meant, that she was looking at the back of a tapestry and seeing a tangle of colour and thread hiding the true pattern. If she could only turn the cloth over and see the front, she would know the answer. If.
As Branna walked across the ward, she saw two dusty horsemen riding in. When they dismounted, she saw that their shields carried the sun blazon of Cengarn. Messengers, she thought. With a cold feeling around her heart, she hurried into the great hall. Behind her came a small mob of servants and riders, as anxious to hear the news as she was.
Nearly a fortnight after the tieryn had sent his letter, messengers from the gwerbret had finally arrived with the answer. Neb followed them in, hurried across the great hall, and knelt on one knee beside the tieryn’s chair at the head of the honour table. A messenger knelt on the other side and proffered the silver tube. Cadryc took it, glanced at the seal, and handed it to Neb.
‘Read it as loudly as you can,’ Cadryc said. ‘We might as well all hear the news at once.’
Neb got up and turned towards the crowd in the great hall. ‘To his grace, Tieryn Cadryc of the Red Wolf, I send greetings. I have no intention of appealing to the high king for aid in the matter you put before me. You were appointed to guard the border. The high king was not.’ Neb glanced the tieryn’s way. ‘It’s signed –’
‘We know who sent the cursed thing!’ Cadryc had gone red in the face. He took a deep breath and paused to look over the great hall, crammed with every rider and servant in the dun, or so it seemed. Lord Mirryn worked his way through the mob and reached his father’s side. At the sight of him the tieryn smiled and turned calm.
‘Well, the gwerbret may not want to appeal to the king,’ Cadryc said, ‘but I see naught wrong with my appealing to the gwerbret. I’ll take fifteen men for an honour escort. As soon as the taxes and suchlike are all taken care of, I’ll ride to Cengarn.’
‘Father?’ Lord Mirryn laid a hand on his father’s arm. ‘I want to go with you.’
‘What? And leave the dun unguarded?’ Cadryc said. ‘There’s Horsekin prowling around, lad, and –’
‘They’ve never raided this far east.’
‘We’ll not argue about it in front of the whole great hall.’ Cadryc’s voice turned into a growl.
Mirryn tossed his head, started to snarl, then smoothed his expression into a bland indifference. ‘As you wish, Father,’ he said. ‘But I’d like a word alone with you later, if I may.’
‘Fair enough. Neb, you’ll be coming with us. I’ll tell Gerran to pick you out a horse.’
‘My thanks, your grace.’ Neb bowed to him. ‘May I have your leave to go? The chamberlain’s waiting for me out in the ward. More taxes have arrived.’
‘You may. In fact, I’ll come out with you.’
Gerran had seen the messengers ride in, but by the time he reached the great hall, it was too full for him to squeeze his way inside. The news reached him anyway, in the form of outraged chatter as the hall emptied. Servant and rider alike blustered and swore, that the gwerbret would treat their lord so rudely. Cadryc himself emerged only a few moments later.
‘Did you hear what that blasted letter said?’ Cadryc asked him.
‘I did, your grace.’
The tieryn took a deep breath and calmed himself. ‘Once I see all the taxes safely in, we’ll ride to Cengarn. In the meantime, pick out a palfrey for the scribe and see if he knows how to ride it.’
‘Well and good, your grace,’ Gerran said. ‘The sooner we lay our case before the gwerbret, the happier I’ll be.’
They strolled together through the ward, which at the moment looked more like a market fair. Farmers stood beside wagon-loads of winter wheat or chased after small droves of hogs and flocks of chickens while the frantic chamberlain ran back and forth. Two men dressed in the ragged clothes of shepherds were just coming through the gates, pushing a handcart piled high with shorn