The Dragon Revenant (33 page)

For the rest of that night he sat up, brooding his plans and fighting his worries, until at last, when the dawn came, he could sleep for a couple of hours, waking just in time to make his appearance at the regent’s malover. In spite of her qualms of the night before, when the time came to sentence Merryc to hang, Lovyan’s voice was rock-steady. The Bardekian himself was so withdrawn, so enfolded into his own mind by some dark discipline that he seemed at times to be nothing but a portrait statue of himself, as if he’d already left the present moment to stand in some hypothetical descendant’s garden among the statues of their mutual ancestors. His actual death would come as an anticlimax to Merryc, Nevyn supposed, just as Sarcyn’s had to him.

“It may be one of the things I hate the most about the dark dweomer,” Nevyn remarked to Elaeno later. “The way it takes men with real talent and spirit and breaks and warps them to its own foul purposes. I’ve met more than a few of these apprentices, and every one was as twisted and ugly as those pitiful Wildfolk they keep around them.”

“The men are much worse off, I’d say. It’s a long sight easier to heal the poor Wildfolk.”

“You’re right enough. Well, I think me that the time is coming for a little revenge on our part. Once we’ve found Jill and Salamander, and—one hopes—Rhodry, too, we’ll see about making the Dark Brotherhood pay for their crimes.”

“Good. I’m going to be glad to see spring come, believe me.”

“Spring? Oh, of course, I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet! We’re going to Bardek straightaway. I asked the wind, and it agreed to take us straight there, safe from storms and suchlike.”

Elaeno started to speak, thought better of it, shut his mouth, reconsidered once again and opened it, then finally made a strangled sort of sound deep in his throat.

“Is somewhat wrong?” Nevyn said.

“Naught. Why, what could be wrong? If the wind agrees, well then, who am I to argue? I’ll just hunt up my first mate and tell him to gather the crew. I take it that the regent will provision us?”

“No doubt. Hum, I haven’t spoken to her yet, either, and I suppose I’d better straightaway. How long will it take you to get the ship seaworthy and ready to sail?”

“Two, three days, depending on how many men her grace details to help us.”

“I’ll make sure you’ve got everything you need, you can depend on that.”

Although Nevyn of course told Lovyan the truth about their destination, she agreed that a small deception was in order. They let the rest of the court think that, in order to get a jump on next year’s trading, Elaeno was sailing to Cerrmor, a tricky journey in winter though a possible one as long as a ship hugged the coast. Nevyn himself, or so the story went, was traveling with him to confer with Gwerbret Cerrmor about the vexed political situation in Eldidd. Although no close relation, Ladoic of Cerrmor was kin to Rhodry on the Maelwaedd side, and thus a possible ally in this unspoken war for the rhan.

“I shall give you new clothes to take with you, too,” Lovyan said. “And one of Aberwyn’s minor seal rings as well as what coin I can scrape together. You’d best go as my councillor, Nevyn, not merely my friend. They always say that every Bardek archon starts his career as a merchant, and so I’ll wager they understand just how rich the Aberwyn trade is. They’ll want to be on the right side of her ruler.”

“Just so. Do you think some of Rhodry’s men would volunteer to come with me? I can pass them off as an honor guard, and I fear me I might need a few good swords before this scrap is done. I’d take Cullyn, but you need him more. Hanging Merryc doesn’t mean Rhodda will be safe. I’ll wager he’s not the only rat in the granary.”

“I agree, unfortunately. As for the men, I doubt very much if you’ll have a shortage of volunteers. You’d best take only ten, though—any more would be suspicious.”

“I’ll have Cullyn pick them out, then.”

“Good. And think up a new name, will you, since I’m going to give you letters patent to carry and so on. ‘No one’ just simply won’t do. Didn’t you use another name around the King’s herald? Was it your real name? I had the odd feeling it was.”

“You were quite right. Even though my father chose to change it later out of spite, Galrion was what my mother named me.”

“How antique-sounding!”

“Then it suits me perfectly, because if ever a man was a living relic, it’s me. Very well, Your Grace. We’ll do our best to bring Rhodry back for you.”

“Not just for me, Lord Galrion. For Eldidd.”

While Elaeno and his first mate worked with the crew that afternoon, Nevyn went up to the tower for one last visit with Perryn, or so he thought of it. Although Perryn’s physical health was sound again, he still spent long hours lying in bed and staring at the ceiling or sitting at the window and staring at the sky. When Nevyn came in, he found the lord at the latter, watching the sullen drift of gray clouds coming up from the southeast.

“How’s your breathing today?”

“Oh, er, ah, well, clear enough, I suppose.”

“Good, good. You should make steady progress from now on.”

Perryn nodded and went back to staring at the clouds.

“Come now, lad.” Nevyn put on his best jolly-but-firm bedside manner. “You’re not going to hang or suchlike, you know. It’s time to start thinking about making somewhat of your life.”

“But, um. I mean, er, ah, well, I just keep thinking about Jill.”

“I’m sorry, but she’s forever beyond you.”

“I know that. Not what I meant, you see. Er, well, I was thinking about what you said, some weeks back, I mean. About not stealing things because well, ah, it’s meddling and you don’t know what’s going to happen. Do you remember somewhat of that?”

“I do, and I’ll admit to being pleased you’re thinking it over.”

“I have been, truly, and it aches my heart I was so stupid, about er, well, you know, um, well, about Rhodry, I mean. I hated him because Jill loved him, and here he was rather ah … er … important.”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit late to be worrying about that now.”

“I know, and that’s what aches my heart. I want to make restitution, but I don’t have anything to give as lwdd. A couple of coppers, a horse—well, er, ah, he’s not truly my horse, I suppose—but the saddle and suchlike are mine. It doesn’t add up to a cursed lot, does it?”

“It doesn’t at that. You might be able to pay Aberwyn some service, though I can’t see you fighting in the war if things come to that.”

“I could be a groom, or train for a farrier. I’d do it gladly, if it would help.”

“Well and good, then. We’ll talk about it when I come back.”

“I heard the servants saying you were going to Cerrmor. Can I go, too? My heart aches with fear all the time, wondering what Cullyn would do if you weren’t here to protect me.”

“He doesn’t even know what you’ve done.”

“He might find out.”

“Now, now, I …” Nevyn hesitated, thinking hard, trying to remember something that Perryn had once mentioned about himself. “Here, lad, after you met up with Rhodry, you started following Jill again. How did you know where she’d gone?”

“It’s just this thing I can do. Like, er, like charming horses. I can just do it.”

“Very well, but what is it that you’re doing?”

“Finding somewhat that I love, like a home or my cousin or Jill. It’s this feeling. When I’m pointed the right way, I feel splendid, and when I’m pointed the wrong way, I feel rotten at heart.”

“Do you now? You know, this could come in very handy indeed. Tell you what, lad, you can sail with me after aU.”

“Sail?” Perryn’s voice rose to a squeak. “In a ship? All the way to Cerrmor?”

“Just that.”

“I can’t do that. I’ll be sick the whole beastly way. I’d rather face Cullyn than be seasick again, truly I would.”

“Too bad. You were the one who was just talking about restitution, weren’t you? And you’ll get used to the motion after a while.”

Out of simple mercy Nevyn omitted telling him their real destination. Bardek lay many more days of sailing away than Cerrmor did.

When the day of departure finally came, it dawned utterly windless. Since Nevyn had no desire to call the wind on shore where all of Aberwyn could watch him, Elaeno badgered the harbormaster into providing a crew of longshoremen and yelled at the gwerbret’s fleetmaster till he allowed the Bardekian to press a couple of galleys into service as tugs. From somewhere these harried officials found plenty of ropes as thick as a man’s arm and poles the same. Once they had the necessary equipment, the Bardekian’s first mate took over and showed everyone how to link the merchantman to the galleys. Elaeno and Nevyn got out of the way and stood on the stern deck of his ship, the
Harban Datzolan
, which translates out, more or less, to the
Guaranteed Profit
.

“I don’t know why they’re carrying on so,” Elaeno remarked to Nevyn. “Every harbor in Bardek has tugs and suchlike for days like this. You can often pick up a bit of breeze out on the open sea when it’s still as death in harbor.”

“Indeed? Well, I’m afraid I know very little about ships and sailing.”

“You don’t need to. You get me the wind, and I’ll get us to Surtinna. By the way, I’ve got Perryn tied up down in the hold. Once we’re well out of port, I’ll release him, but I didn’t want him jumping overboard at the last minute.”

Oars flashing, the improvised tugs headed out, the ropes groaning and creaking as they tightened, and the heavy merchantman began to move as the longshore crew shoved it away from the pier with their poles. Nevyn settled himself on a couple of crates in the bow and looked up at the top of the mast, where the blue-and-silver dragon pennant of the gwerbrets of Aberwyn hung flaccid in the windless cold. Elaeno stood casually in front of him, effectively shielding him with his vast bulk while he gave orders to his first mate. Nevyn shut out the sound of their voices and gathered himself, calling in his mind on the Kings of Air as he let himself sink into a state close to trance. Up on the mast the pennant stirred and fluttered as they came, announcing that they remembered their promise to the Master of the Aethyr. Elaeno glanced up, then yelled at the men on the towropes to get ready to throw them clear. Nevyn imaged the flaming pentagram and placed it far astern. Now, he thought, let the wind come!

With a roar and a whistle the squall rushed out, a channel of wind not more than thirty feet wide, streaming over the sea and striping the water dark as it ran. With a slap it hit the sails, and the ship bounded forward like a kicked dog.

“Throw those ropes!” Elaeno bellowed. “Get ‘em clear, or we’ll be dragging the cursed tugs to Bardek with us!”

The men heaved the ropes clear just as the ship raced between the two galleys and burst free of the harbor. Except for Elaeno, every man on board was utterly silent, staring at their arrow-straight wake or glancing furtively round as if they were afraid to look each other in the eye. In a storm of foul curses Elaeno bellowed orders and got them moving, some rushing aloft to trim the sails, others below to shift ballast and cargo. After making a few adjustments to the wind’s direction and speed, Nevyn got up and stretched. Far behind, Eldidd was already fading to a smear on the horizon.

“By the Holy Stars themselves,” the first mate whispered. “I’ve never seen a wind like this before.”

“Savor it,” Elaeno said. “Doubtless you never will again.”

For days the storm clouds had lain like sheared fleeces over the Surtinna foothills. Even when it wasn’t actually raining, a thick mist shrouded the view and clung to the wet cloaks of the Great if Utterly Glum Krysello and his sneezing band of barbarians while the wind blew steadily, so cold that Jill assumed that it must be snowing up in the high mountains. The one good thing she could say about the weather was that being miserable was keeping her mind off the Hawks. The entire world seemed to have shrunk to the constant struggle to keep moving through wet and cold. Since they were off the road the footing was next to impossible—trails that were deep mud or grassy hillsides so saturated that the sod split like overripe fruit under the horses’ hooves. At times a horse would fall, and its panic would spread through the long line of stock. Calming them again would waste precious time, until Jill was ready to simply turn the entire herd loose to fend for itself. Oddly enough, to her way of thinking, it was always Salamander who insisted they keep all the horses with them for as long as possible.

The nights’ camps brought no real rest or respite. It was another struggle to find decent grazing for the horses and to keep the humans’ meager provisions dry. Lighting a fire was out of the question, even with Salamander’s dweomer; not only would the light announce their presence to possible enemies, but there was quite simply no dry wood. At night no one could sleep properly in wet blankets; there was no natural shelter except for the tangled and thorny underbrush or the occasional stand of boulders. They all began talking less and less, since every word seemed to come out as a snarl or a snap that set off an argument.

Through it all Jill kept a strict watch on Gwin, even though his devotion to Rhodry was so doglike that it turned her stomach. Late one afternoon, as she and Salamander were tethering out the riding horses together out of earshot of the others, Jill brought up her suspicions.