Cavan winced. His Grace was deadly serious, then, about stopping them.
“Luckily this other silver dagger turned up,” Dovina continued. “I gave him a token as a speeded courier. Please pay him well when you reach your destination. Once you get across the border into Standyc’s rhan, the pursuers will have to turn back.”
“She’s right about them turning back,” Cavan said. “With things as they are, if some of Aberwyn’s men took us on one of the Bear clan’s roads it would be an act of war.”
“Good. How far are we from the border?”
“About twelve miles.” Benoic spoke up.
“Excellent!” Alyssa took the letter back. “I suppose it’s too late to ride out now.”
“My horse won’t manage another mile without rest.” He glanced at Cavan. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare mount.”
“No such luck. And you won’t be able to ride that horse fast on the morrow, not without risking him.”
Benoic winced. “As desperate as a silver dagger without a horse” was an Eldidd proverb and a true one.
“If you’ve got Lady Dovina’s token,” Alyssa said, “the local lord will give you a remount, but we don’t dare go with you.” She frowned in thought. “And it had best wait till the morning, too. The sun’s setting. The dun gates will be closed.”
“There’s more bad news, my lady.” Benoic elevated Alyssa’s rank. “I heard it when I changed mounts. Cavvo, Gwerbret Ladoic’s posted letters of bounty on you. The lord I spoke with offered me the chance at it.” Benoic paused for a twisted grin. “A hundred Eldidd brazens if I bring you in.”
“Is that all? The mingy bastards!”
“It’s enough to put a lot of hounds on your trail.”
“Here, you’re not going to try to earn it, are you?”
“After the way you saved my neck up in Cerrgonney?” Benoic looked Alyssa’s way. “We were riding together in some lord’s feud. I never did learn what started it or who was to blame. But it came to bloodshed, and I’d have been dead if it weren’t for him.” He glanced at Cavan. “Cursed if I’ll turn you over for a handful of coin. But there are plenty of other men who won’t be so high-minded.”
“Wait a moment,” Alyssa said. “You said some lord or other told you about it? The one who gave you the new horse?”
“Not him, actually.” Benoic paused to rub his chin with one hand. “It was a bit odd, now that you mention it. I changed horses at Lord Orryc’s dun. He’s one of Ladoic’s vassals and a generous man. Just at noon, this was. So once his groom picked out a horse, and I’d finished the meal they set me, I went out to the ward to saddle up. Another lord followed me, a friend of Orryc’s, I guess he was, because he’d been eating with his lordship at the head table. And he made a point of telling me about the bounty.”
“What was his name?” Alyssa said.
“He never told me. Just said, a tip for you, silver dagger, and went on about the letter of bounty.”
“That’s more than a bit odd,” Cavan said. “Most lords don’t bother helping out the likes of us.”
“True spoken.” Benoic fought back a yawn. “His tartan was brown and yellow with a thin stripe of a rusty black. Never saw his device.”
“Huh. That’s from over in Deverry proper. The Oaktree clan, and their gwerbret’s dun is close to the Eldidd border, but I don’t remember much else about them.”
“News about this letter must have spread fast. Cursed bad luck, Cavvo.”
Cavan turned to Alyssa. He was expecting her to come up with some sort of cleverness, and she didn’t disappoint him.
“Such a pity,” Alyssa said, “that Cavan’s so ill from that old head wound. Not, of course, that his real name is Cavan. We might as well start calling him Valyn now, just to make sure we’re used to doing so.”
Benoic laughed, one quick whoop. Cavan set his hands on his hips and glared at her.
“I don’t suppose,” Cavan said, “that you might let me in on the joke.”
Alyssa rolled her eyes skyward. “My dear silver dagger,” she said with a grin. “If you stop shaving, and we bandage up your head, who’s to recognize you? You can get dizzy spells and find it hard to remember things.”
“Lie, you mean.”
“You look so sour. What—”
“All this cursed lying! It’s dishonorable.”
Benoic groaned and rolled his eyes. “He’s noble-born, you know. Cavvo, be reasonable! You’re dishonored already. What counts now is keeping you alive.”
“I suppose.”
“Oh, hush!” Alyssa said. “Benoic’s right.”
“Oh, very well!” Cavan made her a mock bow. “I ride at your orders, my lady.”
“Good. There’s no time to argue if Gwarl’s already on the road.”
Cavan had never known a lass with her resourcefulness before, and he wasn’t sure if he found it annoying or fascinating. A bit of both, he decided with a shrug. He got up from the floor and yelled at the innkeep to bring them dark beer.
* * *
The innkeep allowed Alyssa’s silver daggers to eat at table with her, doubtless because the food deserved no better. The mutton had been boiled tasteless, the bread was stale, and Alyssa picked a dead cockroach out of her barley porridge and shoved the bowl away. Benoic and Cavan, however, ate theirs and shared her portion between them, too, though they did pick the roaches out first.
The quality of the food prompted a lot of sour comments from the other customers. Alyssa overheard a number of complaints about the coming war, the weather, the Westfolk, the taxes, and just about everything else that touched the complainers’ lives. One even advanced a nasty opinion of Haen Marn, though that got shouted down fast enough.
“Well,” the grumbler continued, “talk all you want, but I hear the place is crawling with spirits.”
“Oh, ye gods!” another fellow said. “It’s always the Wildfolk, innit? Or the mighty dwimmer or evil curses or now and then a woman who gave birth to six rabbits. Think, man! None of it’s likely to happen.”
The sour fellow scowled, but he did say, “I’ll give you the rabbit story. I don’t believe that one for one single moment. How would a buck even mount her? He’d fall short, like.”
The men at that table all laughed, and Alyssa had to smile herself. Cavan rolled his eyes, and Benoic just went on eating.
“The west is full of strange things,” Alyssa said to Cavan. “You’ll be surprised, I think. But truly, no litters of half-human baby bunnies.”
After dinner the innkeep helped them carry their gear up to one of the common rooms. Alyssa examined the smoke-stained wall behind the one square bed. Along with candle soot she saw the small black and rust colored stains where previous occupants had squashed bedbugs.
“We’ll all sleep in your hayloft,” she told the innkeep. “If that’s acceptable to you, my goodman.”
Since he had no objection, they all trooped back downstairs again and went out to the stables. The hayloft smelled only of mice, not known to bite travelers in their sleep. Alyssa announced that it would do and gave the innkeep the night’s fee.
“We’ll be leaving early on the morrow,” she said. “As early as we can, truly.”
“Good luck on the road, then. And mind you don’t tip that there lantern and burn the place down.”
“I can assure you that we have no desire to roast.” Alyssa smiled to take any sting out of her words. “The candle’s almost burned down, anyway.”
In the little space of light remaining, the three of them bundled up hay and straw into improvised mattresses and spread out their bedrolls. Alyssa made her bed on the other side of a rotting wood partition from the men. She noticed Cavan watching her with a deeply sad expression, which she suspected him of exaggerating for effect. Benoic took off his sword belt, slung it down at the head of his blankets, th
en lay down, boots and all. He sighed once and fell asleep.
Before she went to her blankets, Alyssa looked through the clothes she’d been given and found an extra petticoat of plain muslin. She tore off some long strips to bandage Cavan’s head on the morrow. She took off her breeches and boots, then snuggled down into her nest of straw. Although she wanted to make plans for the road ahead, she fell asleep almost as quickly as Benoic.
* * *
Cavan lay awake for a long time and listened to Alyssa’s soft breathing on the other side of the partition. In his mind he went over and over their route from Aberwyn and tried to figure how fast a mounted squad could travel it. Now and then his mind threatened to remind him that the gwerbret could and probably would hang him if he were captured, but he shoved that thought away. What counted, he told himself, was getting Alyssa safely away. If he died fighting in a scrap on the road, so much the better, as long as she could reach Haen Marn.
He could only hope she’d mourn him. On that less than happy thought, he finally fell asleep.
* * *
Dovina heard about the bounty on Cavan’s head from Darro, who’d attached himself to her as her special page. Doubtless he wanted to ensure he got that trip to Cerrmor, but the arrangement suited her as well. He’d heard about the bounty from one of the men in the warband, he told her.
“A hundred brazens, my lady! Such a lot of coin! I wish I were a warrior.” He pretended to hold a sword and mimed a few passes. “I could be rich.”
“You’ve got a few years ahead of you before that happens.” She smiled at him. “But here’s a couple of coppers to get you started.”
Darro smiled and bowed. Dovina went storming downstairs. On the dais in the great hall, she found her father drinking ale at the head of the honor table. He’d tipped his chair back so he could rest his feet on the seat of the chair to his left. When she marched up to him, he lowered his tankard and sighed.
“What is it now?” he said.
“The letter of bounty you put out for that silver dagger, the one who gave Ogwimyr what he deserved.”
“He cursed near caused a riot.”
“Ogwimyr did, you mean?”
“I do not, and you know it!”
“It hardly matters. The real instigator of the worst rioting is Gwarl.”
“Enough!” Ladoic raised one hand flat for silence. When he spoke again, he sounded more curious than angry. “What’s Ogwimyr to you, anyway?”
Dovina had heard enough about the incident to have a firm idea of what had happened. “Oggo called my dear friend Alyssa a two-penny whore. He said all the women at the collegium were, too. The silver dagger answered the slight.”
Ladoic rolled his eyes and had a long swallow of ale. “Now this,” he said, “is the way drink should taste. None of that new beer for me, nasty with hops.”
“Father, I shan’t be put off this easily. I happen to be a scholar at that collegium. I’m assuming that Oggo included me in the description. What else would the people in the marketplace think?”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Ladoic slammed his half-full tankard down on the table. Ale sloshed like an angry sea. “Oggo! Get up here!”
Ogwymir scurried over, his back bent as if he were trying to bow and run at the same time. Dovina set her hands on her hips and stepped back to watch as he knelt beside the gwerbret’s chair.
“This business of the lass who was giving that cursed speech in the marketplace,” Ladoic said. “I’ve been told you called the lasses at the collegium two-copper whores.”
Ogwymir glanced at Dovina and bit his lower lip.
“Well?” Ladoic said.
“Only the one lass, Your Grace.” His voice squeaked toward the end of his reply. “The one speaking.”
“Hah! I doubt me if the townsfolk made such a nice distinction. Do you think I don’t know about the nasty things they say about the lasses there?” Ladoic paused for effect. “My daughter’s one of them, isn’t she?”
“I never meant, I mean, Your Grace, just the things she was saying, not the Lady Dovina I mean of course not I—”
Ladoic held up a hand. Ogwymir fell silent. His face had gone quite pale.
“Don’t,” Ladoic said. “Don’t ever say such things again. I do not wish to hear of you saying such things again. Do you understand me?”
“I do, Your Grace. A thousand apologies, I—”
“That’s enough. Go!”
Ogwimyr crept off like a whipped hound.
“Oggo won’t be slandering you again,” Ladoic said, “but the bounty stands. I want that silver dagger back here for a fair trial before I hang him.”
“Fair? You call that—”
“A jest, Dovva. You shouldn’t be so cursed serious all the time. It’s not becoming in a woman.”
And he laughed. All Dovina could do was simper, curtsy, and leave.
CHAPTER 4
THROUGH THE SLITS AND holes in the stable roof, Cavan could see silver in the dawn sky. He rolled free of his blankets without waking Benoic, pulled on his boots, slung his sword belt over his shoulder, and got up. Benoic kept on snoring. Cavan climbed down the ladder from the loft, buckled on the sword belt, and went down the line of stalls to fetch their horses out. Benoic’s chestnut walked without being urged, planted its feet without any sign of pain, and tossed its head with a snort at the cool outdoor air, but even so, Cavan decided, Benno was going to need a fresh mount if they were going to ride at a cavalry pace.
He’d just given each horse a nosebag of oats when Alyssa came out of the stable. She was yawning while she ran both hands through her dirty hair, her eyes looked puffed and gummy, but in the silvery light she struck him as more beautiful than any courtly lady. Once he would have seen her as prey, this common-born lass. Now she was far above and beyond him. Regret struck him like a blow, both for the way he would have seen her and for their positions now.
“What’s so wrong?” Alyssa looked at him sharply.
“Naught, naught. Just tired. Is Benoic awake?”
“He is. Or at least, he muttered to himself when I walked by.”
“A good sign, that. If he’s not down by the time the horses are saddled, I’ll fetch him.”
Alyssa went to the well near the watering trough and hauled up a bucket of water. She set it on the well’s edge, then dipped her hands in it and splashed water on her face. Twisted strands of hay clung to the back of her tunic. Smiling, he went over and picked them off.
“My thanks,” she said.
“There’s a bit left.”
He brushed the fragments off with the side of his hand. At his touch she stiffened, but she said nothing, nor did she move away.
“My apologies,” he said.
“No need.” Her voice trembled, ever so slightly.
“Lyss, if I weren’t a cursed silver dagger—”
“But you are.” She turned to face him. “Please, no more.”
Once he would have said more, wheedled, begged, pushed his suit. This time, with a sigh he nodded and turned away rather than cause her any distress.
They decided that they’d rather ride hungry than eat more of the inn’s food. While he saddled the horses, Alyssa took her linen strips and went into the inn’s kitchen hut. She came back with a few artistic blood stains on the cloth and bound his head so that they’d show. Cavan returned to the hayloft and told Benoic they were leaving. Benoic yawned hugely and sat up in his blankets.
“You’d best get on the road,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you on the other side of the border if I can. If you can reach it.”
“With Ladoic’s squad on their way.”
“True.” Benoic yawned again. “Worse yet if he sent messages to one of his vassals. They’re closer.”
True enough, Cavan thought. He was intending to push the horses and travel fast, but the
night’s rain had turned the road muddy and slow. As they plodded along, he kept turning in the saddle to look back, but the mud, of course, refused to send up the dust cloud that would have warned him of enemies coming. Toward noon he gave the horses a brief rest, but he and Alyssa stayed standing to eat a scrap of bread each. He cleaned the worst of the mud from the horses’ hooves and got all of them back on the road.
* * *
By then the sun had been out for some hours, and the road had dried out except in the deep wagon ruts. Alyssa took the lead, Cavan the rear, when he decided they should ride single file. Eventually, when the sun had gone well past zenith, Alyssa saw a massive cairn about half a mile ahead with a squared-off pillar rising from it. She could just make out what appeared to be the statue of an animal at the very top.
“Look!” She pointed ahead. “A carved stone. I’ll wager that’s the border.”
“Must be!” Cavan said. “Thank the gods!”
He turned in his saddle to take another look backward and swore. Alyssa looked, too, and saw what they’d been dreading—a cloud of dust, far too large and high to be raised by a single horse’s hooves. The mud-streaked rutted road ahead was still too uncertain for a gallop.
“Hurry!” he said. “Trot!”
At the fastest pace they could manage they headed for the border of the Bears’ territory. The dust cloud behind them followed, gaining but slowly. A silver horn rang out behind them. The dust cloud traveled faster and resolved itself into a band of armed men.
“Hold and stand!” A voice called out, no more than a faint thread of sound. “Stand, curse you! In the name of Aberwyn.”
Alyssa kicked her horse to a faster trot. Cavan followed her. They reached the cairn and saw indeed a bear rampant crowning the pillar, but to either side of the road stretched nothing but fields, green with new hay.
“If they take us, who’s to stop them?” Cavan called out. “You ride as fast as you can. I’ll put up a bit of a fight.”
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