Dragonspell. Katharine Kerr
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one of the undergrooms, but he was carrying a load of firewood, and his walk was wrong, not the shuffle or scramble of a servant, but the confident stride of a warrior. Cullyn hesitated only a moment before following him. Sure enough, Bryc carried the anomalous firewood right past first the wash-house, then the cookhouse as well. There was no other building where that firewood might belong between him and the outer walls.
Cullyn stayed with him until the lad passed the armoury, then ducked into it, ran down to the door at the far end, and opened it a crack to look out. His hunch paid off. Bryc was indeed looking back to see if anyone was following him, but he did not notice that the armoury door was ever so slightly open. When he angled round a shed towards the broch complex, Cullyn slipped out and followed at a good distance, keeping close to the shadows of the various buildings. The lad never glanced back again until he reached the low brick wall that separated the gwerbret’s formal garden from the work-a-day rest of the ward. Cullyn hid in a doorway as Bryc unceremoniously dumped his load of firewood, looked cautiously around him, then leapt over the wall. As Cullyn went after, Bryc hurried across the lawn, where, some distance away, little Rhodda, Rhodry’s illegitimate daughter and only heir, played with a leather ball while her nursemaid, Tevylla, sat and sewed on a small stone bench. There was absolutely no reason for Bryc to be in the garden at all.
With an oath, Cullyn drew his sword and broke into a run. He leapt the wall just as the fellow made a grab at the child. Screaming, Tevylla jumped up and hurled her sewing scissors at his head – a miss, but he had to duck and lost a precious moment. As he charged across the lawn, Cullyn saw that Bryc had a dagger and that he was swinging down.
‘Run, lass!’
Rhodda twisted away and dodged as Bryc spun around, saw Cullyn coming, and turned to flee. Tevylla grabbed the leather ball and threw it under his feet. Down he went just as the captain reached him. He grabbed Bryc by the shirt, hauled him up, and broke his wrist with the flat of his sword. The dagger spun down to the grass. He kicked it far out of his prisoner’s reach.
‘Thanks be to the gods!’ Tevylla snatched it up. ‘Cullyn, I’m so glad you were right there.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. You seemed to be handling things pretty well on your own.’
Tevylla shot him a weary sort of smile, then tucked the dagger into her kirtle and scooped Rhodda up. The child herself was oddly calm, only a bit pale as she stared at her rescuer for a moment, then turned in her nurse’s arms to look at the whimpering Bryc.
‘Get him,’ she said to no one in particular. ‘He’s nasty.’
The lad screamed, twisted in the captain’s grasp, then threw himself this way and that in sincere pain while he screamed over and over again. When Cullyn, utterly startled, let him go he fell to the ground full-length and writhed and screamed the more.
‘Stop it!’ It was Nevyn, racing across the lawn. ‘Stop it right now, all of you! Rhodda, you wretched little beast!’
Sobbing and gasping for breath, Bryc flopped onto his stomach and hid his face in folded arms. Cullyn realized that the lad’s arms and face were nicked and bleeding, as if a hundred cats had been clawing at him. While Tevylla stepped back in horror, Rhodda giggled and snickered until Nevyn glared her into silence.
‘Never ever do that again,’ the old man said.
‘But he had a knife. He was nasty, Gran.’
‘I know. I saw it all from the window. You waited until he was helpless, and that’s dishonourable. Well, didn’t you?’
The child hung her head in shame.
‘What a sweet little poppet you have in your charge, Mistress Tevylla,’ Nevyn said. ‘She’s Rhodry’s daughter, sure enough.’
‘She’s a handful at times, truly, but here, good sir, you can’t be saying that she did all that.’ Tevylla pointed with one clog at the bleeding man on the ground.
‘You’ll have to take it on faith that she did, and you too, captain. Come here, Rhodda. I’m going to talk to you, and then we’re all going to go see your grandmother. Cullyn, drag that young dog along to the great hall.’
When Nevyn left, Tevylla started after, but the old man irritably waved her away. Trembling a little, as if the shock had finally just caught up to her, she lingered to watch while Cullyn knelt down, grabbing Bryc by the shoulders and flopping him over like a caught fish. In his pain the lad cried out and stared up at the captain in bewilderment. Something was wrong with Bryc’s eyes, or so Cullyn thought of it. He’d never seen any man look so bewildered, so utterly lost and confused, as if his very eyes themselves had clouded over until he stared without truly seeing a thing.
‘Here, lad, have you gone blind?’
‘Not at all, but captain, where am I? My wrist!’ Whimpering from the effort, he held up his broken hand and stared at the blood running. ‘Did I fall? Did the dogs do this to me? What is this?’ His voice rose to an utterly sincere hysterical wail. ‘Tell me, for the love of the gods! What am I doing here like this?’
Cullyn grabbed him again, but this time to steady him.
‘Hold your tongue, lad. I’ll explain in a bit. Can you stand? We’ve got to go see old Nevyn about this.’
‘The herbman? Oh, truly.’ His voice was a bare whisper. ‘It was like being asleep, then waking.’
‘Indeed? Well, come along. You’re safe now.’
Even though he’d spoken without thinking, Cullyn suddenly went cold, knowing that he’d told the truth, that Bryc had been in as much danger as the child. Tevylla caught her breath in a gasp.
‘How do you fare, lass?’ Cullyn said.
‘Well enough, captain. I just remembered somewhat.’
‘And it was?’
‘I won’t tell anyone but Nevyn, but I think me I’d best tell him straightaway.’
Since as regent it was one of Lovyan’s duties to administer the laws of the gwerbretrhyn, Nevyn had her convene their private hearing in the chamber of justice, yet they were a scruffy little crew among the splendours. On the wall hung the dragon banners of Aberwyn and the golden sword of justice; the massive oak table and the high-backed gwerbretal chair stood on a floor made of slate tiles, inlaid in a key pattern, but Lovyan perched on the edge of the chair with Rhodda in her lap while Nevyn had Bryc sit on the table itself so that he could bind the lad’s wrist as everyone gave their testimony. To Lovyan’s right Tevylla sat on a low bench with Cullyn hovering behind her. Once the testimony was over, the tieryn gave her granddaughter a little squeeze.
‘Oh ye gods,’ Lovyan said. ‘It seems obvious this lad tried to kill our Rhodda, and yet somewhat makes me doubt his guilt.’
‘Quite so, Your Grace,’ Nevyn said. ‘To be precise, his body was being used for the attempt, but his soul and mind are blameless. Now Tevva, what’s this urgent story you have to tell?’
‘This morning when I woke, my lord, I had what I thought was a strange dream. Have you ever had one of those dreams where you think you’re wide awake? Our chamber, Rhodda’s cot, the hearth – it all looked exactly right, and dawn was coming in the window, but when I tried to move, I couldn’t, and I realized that I was still asleep.’
‘Dreams of that sort do happen.’ Nevyn finished binding the lad’s wrist and turned to look at her. ‘What came after?’
‘I dreamt there was a witch in the chamber with me. My Mam used to say that a witch could draw out your soul and put it into a little jar. I laughed, then, but this morning, I felt just that, like someone was trying to steal my soul.’
Nevyn felt that weary sort of annoyance that comes from seeing your worst fear confirmed.
‘How did you fight this witch off?’
‘I don’t know.’ She looked profoundly embarrassed. ‘I couldn’t move to give