Days of Air and Darkness

by Katharine Kerr

  Dwaen groaned, rather loudly.

  “You always were the very spirit of gallantry, Dwaen,” Rhannyr said, grinning. He leaned back over the rampart. “Ocsyn, are you and the lads hungry? I’ll send food out to you, but I’d best not offer you the shelter of my dun tonight. Things are complicated enough already.”

  “Just so, but we’ll take the food gladly, my lord.”

  When Rhodry climbed down, he found Jill waiting.

  “There’s naught like a good thick wall to make men polite,” she remarked. “If they’d caught us on the road, we’d have been in for it good and proper.”

  “Just so. I’m glad Tudvulc’s on his way. He knows me, and he knows we’ve been tracking poisoners, and so he’ll believe us easier than Elyc will.”

  “Let us hope.” Dwaen joined them. “Because if he doesn’t, this is going to leave a stain on Lady Sevinna’s honor.”

  “Well, true,” Jill sighed. “But I thought it would be better than having her killed.”

  “A thousand times better,” Dwaen said. “Oh well, if worse comes to worst, it’s time I married, anyway.”

  When both Jill and Rhodry stared at him, he smiled in a vague sort of way and strolled back to the great hall.

  After a good wash, a night in a decent bed, and some real meals, Sevinna felt recovered enough to walk with Jill out in the ward, such as it was. A few cobbled paths led through mud and horse leavings. Servants strolled back and forth with buckets of slops or an armload of firewood; a page trotted past, scratching himself as he attended to some errand or other. Jill and Sevinna found themselves dodging chickens and trying to stay upwind of the pigsty.

  “I know it’s sensible to stay here and let Elyc and my uncle come to us,” Sevinna said. “But ych!”

  “It’s not Lughcarn, is it?”

  “It’s not indeed! On the other hand, I’m not in much of a hurry to have my uncle get here. I do hope he doesn’t beat me.”

  “Well, he won’t as long as Rhodry can talk to him first and explain things. Tell me, Sevvi, what do you think of the tieryn?”

  “Dwaen? I’ve heard of him, of course, just from cousins and suchlike. They all said he was daft, talking about the gods all the time.”

  “I suppose they did, but what do you think of him?”

  “I rather like him. He seems a decent sort, and he’s not bad looking.”

  “Good. Because if your uncle is unreasonable, you’re going to have to marry him.”

  “Oh, by the Goddess!” Sevinna felt suddenly short of breath. “You’re right, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll wager the scandal’s spreading already. My apologies. I never thought of what it might mean to your honor when I came up with this idea.”

  “Better dishonored than dead. Don’t trouble your heart about it for a moment.”

  And yet, of course, it did trouble her own heart, that after the love charms and Old Lore, after the assessing of suitors and the scheming of female relatives, her marriage might well come down to a stranger chance met on the road, and all because of scandal and Lord Rhannyr’s sense of humor. To her surprise, she found that Dwaen had been thinking along the same lines. After the noon meal, when she sat alone by a little window in the great hall, he sought her out, fetching a stool so that he could sit beside her chair like a page.

  “Er, well,” he said, “I thought I’d best tell you about my dun and lands.”

  “Why? I mean, I’m always glad of his lordship’s conversation, but uh, well, I—”

  “Please, my lady. There’s no need for us to cross swords and spar. We both know that the gods have placed you in an awkward situation. Well, they’ve placed me in one, too. Here I am, tieryn in my own right, with no wife and no heirs, because the lass that I always thought I’d marry, from the time we were children, truly, well, she died of a winter fever.”

  “Oh! My heart aches for your grief.”

  Dwaen shrugged and looked away, brushing his dark hair back from his forehead with a broad hand.

  “It was over two years ago now. You wouldn’t be living with another woman’s ghost or suchlike. I’ll never mention her again, I promise you, but I thought you should know.”

  Sevinna suddenly wondered if there were another lord in the kingdom who would be so scrupulous about his lady’s feelings. Dwaen looked back at her and smiled.

  “I’ve got rather a lot of land, actually. You could live well in my dun.”

  “But my lord, this is so sudden—”

  Their eyes met, and they burst out laughing.

  “Sudden, indeed,” said Dwaen. “But here we blasted well are. The thing is, I know somewhat of your uncle and your father, and I doubt me that I bring the kind of alliances they need.”

  “Oh.” Sevinna considered, chewing on her lower lip. “Well, it’s kind of a nasty problem, then. But if the scandal spreads, then no one will marry me.”

  “Exactly. I suppose we could always pretend that we really did elope.”

  “I suppose. We’d probably best wait and see what my uncle thinks about it all.”

  Nothing very good, as it turned out. They all spent an uncomfortable day and night waiting at Rhannyr’s willing, if overextended, hospitality before Gwerbret Tudvulc and half his warband charged in. Sevinna was up in her guest chamber, talking with Jill, when they heard the clattering and cursing out in the ward.

  “Oh, Goddess defend me!” Sevinna said, looking heavenward. “That must be my uncle.”

  They rushed downstairs and outside to find the ward mobbed with men and horses. Not only was Tudvulc there, but Lord Elyc as well, met on the road home, apparently, and swept along by the gwerbret. Just outside the door to the great hall stood Rhannyr and Dwaen, with Rhodry behind them. Sevinna would have run out, but Jill caught her arm.

  “Let’s stay in the doorway,” she whispered. “They’ll see us soon enough.”

  Red-faced and growling, Tudvulc dismounted and strode over to Dwaen and Rhannyr, both of whom bowed as deeply as they could bend. A last few chickens fled squawking at his approach.

  “You I know.” Tudvulc waved a hand at Rhannyr, then turned on Dwaen. “You! What are you doing with my niece?”

  “Protecting her from harm and naught more, Your Grace.”

  “Hah! What do you think I am, a halfwit?”

  “Never, Your Grace. If you feel her honor’s been in the least degree besmirched, then I’ll marry her gladly.”

  “Cursed right you will!” Tudvulc looked round, saw Sevinna, and growled again. “Ye gods! As bad as your blasted mother!”

  And that was Sevinna’s betrothal ceremony. When she caught Dwaen’s eye, he shrugged and grinned. In spite of everything, she found herself smiling in return.

  “Now then,” Tudvulc bellowed. “Elyc, where are you? We’ve got to ride straight to Belgwerger.”

  On the edge of the crowd, Elyc turned his mount in the gwerbret’s direction.

  “What about the horses? They’re tired, and Rhannyr can’t remount us all.”

  “Too cursed bad! Your wife and my daughters are in that dun with a poisoner.”

  Since Rhannyr’s vastly pregnant wife had no need of them, Sevinna rode back on that lady’s palfrey and in her proper sidesaddle. Tudvulc and Elyc headed the march, with Sevinna and Dwaen riding side by side just behind them, leaving the silver daggers and the warbands to sort themselves out however they wanted. Chivvying and growling, Tudvulc kept them moving at a good pace, too, marching his improvised army up to the city gates well before sunset. As they hurried through the town, the citizens fled out of the way like Rhannyr’s chickens.

  They trotted into the dun, where pages and servants rushed to greet them and sort out this plethora of unexpected guests. When she looked up at the broch tower, Sevinna saw figures in the window of the women’s quarters. One of them had to be Taurra, she assumed, watching and wondering at the uproar below. Once they were close to the broch and out of the worst confusion, Dwaen swung down and helped her dismount.

>   “My thanks, my lord.”

  “Most welcome, my lady.”

  When they exchanged a smile, the events of the past few days suddenly became real to her. Oh, by the Goddess! she thought. This man is my husband, and I barely know him. She turned away with a scatter of tears.

  When she’d got herself under control, Dwaen slipped his arm through hers and escorted her into the great hall, where frantic servants were dragging extra benches up to tables. Yelling for ale, Elyc grabbed a page and sent him upstairs to fetch Lady Davylla and her womenfolk down to the hall. Sevinna allowed Dwaen to seat her at the table of honor, then looked round for Jill, who was standing with Rhodry beside Tudvulc and talking intently to the gwerbret. Every now and then, Tudvulc grunted in agreement. At the far side of the hall, the weary riders were sorting out who would sit where as quietly as they could. Elyc sat himself down at the head of the table of honor with a long yawn.

  “We’re going to clear this wretched mess up right away. While we were riding to Rhannyr’s dun, Tudvulc was telling me about this poisoner. If this Taurra’s her, then she’s no guest of mine.”

  By the time that the ladies came down, the men were all seated, drinking ale in grim silence. In a rustle of silks and a flash of jewels, the women hurried into the hall, Lady Davylla and Wbridda in the lead, Babryan and Taurra just behind. Taurra had put on a plain dress, dark-colored, shabby from mending, and swept her dark hair back in a simple copper clasp, the very picture of a humble bewildered penitent, but she walked in proudly, head held high, her eyes calm, as if she were sure of her innocence before the gods. Sevinna felt a ripple of fear mixed with awe, as if she were going to see a wild boar brought to bay.

  Taurra glanced round and saw Dwaen. She stiffened, her eyes flashing rage, her hands clasping as if she would claw him. Dwaen rose and made her a bow.

  “Well met, Lady Mallona. I doubt me if you truly want news of your husband, Lord Beryn, but I’ll offer it to you.”

  “What?” A bewildered Davylla turned this way and that between them. “Who is this man? Elyc—”

  “Sit down and be quiet!” Elyc snapped. “This woman’s lied to you and deceived us all, and I’m putting a stop to it right now.”

  “I take it then that my lord has already judged and condemned me,” Mallona said in her quiet strong voice. “And all on the word of a man he doesn’t know.”

  “I have a good bit more evidence than Tieryn Dwaen’s word. You may sit, too, while we discuss this.”

  “I prefer to stand. Like the accused I am.”

  Servants stepped forward with a chair for Davylla, who sank into it, gathering Babryan and Wbridda round her to huddle on the floor by her feet. The girls were staring at Mallona, and Babryan’s mouth worked as if she would cry. Mallona smiled at them and stood her ground in front of Elyc, her hands clasped calmly in front of her.

  “Since my lord has so generously fed and sheltered me,” Mallona said. “Let me beg only for his justice.”

  “That you shall have, I swear it. The charges against you are grave: murdering your lover, the merchant Bavydd, up in Gwaentaer, after your plot to murder the tieryn here came to naught.”

  Mallona tossed up her head like a startled horse and turned slightly to look down the table, her eyes pausing long on Dwaen, on Jill, and then reaching Sevinna with such a surge of hatred that Sevinna had to summon all her will to speak.

  “My Lord Elyc? She also made false claims against Jill, this silver dagger, that caused her to be arrested and mistreated by your own equerry, Lord Cenwyc.”

  Elyc glanced around the hall, saw Cenwyc standing ready by the hearth, and beckoned him over. Cenwyc knelt at his lord’s side.

  “The Lady Sevinna speaks the truth, my lord. A small charge, compared to these others, but it speaks of a Woman trying to elude justice.”

  “I see.”

  Cenwyc rose, bowed, and stepped back out of the way. In her chair, Lady Davylla went pale, her hands tightening on the folds of her dress. The girls huddled closer to her.

  “Very well,” Mallona said. “I see that I have no choice but the truth. I am Lady Mallona, wife to Lord Beryn, and truly, I did murder the man who seduced me and forced me to plot against my own lawful husband. Ah, ye gods and goddesses, I call you witness on my side! How could I say Bavydd nay, when he was threatening to tell my husband of my infidelity and have me cast onto the roads if I didn’t plot with him?” Her voice cracked, a little tremor of tears. “I grew to hate him, grew to bitterly regret the day I ever succumbed to his lying flatteries and kisses.” Suddenly she flung herself down by Elyc and clasped his knees. “I know His Grace can never forgive, but perhaps he can understand how lonely a woman grows, shut up with a coarse man who cares only for his hunting and his feuds. Bavydd was like a snake. He wormed his way into my life by bringing me news of my poor outcast brother, and what woman doesn’t want to have news of her own true kin?” Tears welled. “Bavydd was so kind at first, but then, when I found out what sort of man he was, it was too late.”

  It was so beautifully done that at first Sevinna was inclined to believe her. Elyc’s expression softened, then turned puzzled as Mallona stared straight into his eyes.

  “Then I found out that Bavydd was making trouble between my lord and his liege, Coryc. I felt like a fish in a net, Your Grace, flopping and flopping. And my son.” Her voice broke again. “My only son had just died, and I was distraught. All I could think of was ridding myself of the man who’d come upon me like a curse. And so I killed him. And then there was nothing left to me but flight.” She paused to let tears roll down her cheeks. “Ah, by the gods, my lord! I know I must pay for this murder, but I beg you, don’t let me hang. Let me go to a Moon Temple, where I can spend the rest of a miserable life tending the Goddess’s garden and praying to her for forgiveness. That’s all I ever ask of you.”

  Elyc bent down and reached for her hands. Before he could touch them, Rhodry swung clear of the bench and strode to his side.

  “My Lord Elyc! This sad story seems to ache your heart, but there are a few small things the lady has omitted. She would have killed Tieryn Dwaen if she could have. And to escape your justice, she would have let my Jill’s hands be cut off in the public marketplace, leaving her maimed for life.”

  With a shriek of rage, Mallona bounded to her feet and swung at Rhodry, a hard claw with her hails. He dodged, grabbed her wrist, and swung her round, twisting her arm behind her back until she went limp. Lady Davylla began to cry, a soft whimper under her breath. Babryan leaned back against the lady’s knee, so pale that it seemed she would faint.

  “Your Grace?” Rhodry said. “This lady’s lapdog has the teeth and claws of a wolf, and about as much heart as one, too.”

  “Cursed right, Silver Dagger!” Tudvulc could hold his peace no longer. “Elyc, may the gods blast me if I flaunt my rank in your hall, but think, man!”

  “Just so.” Elyc rose to face the lady. “Well and good, then, woman. You will be turned over to Gwerbret Coryc of Caenmetyn to pay the full penalty for these heinous crimes. Tieryn Dwaen has come here with armed men to escort you back to his liege lord for that purpose. In the morning, I’ll give you over to his charge and offer him whatever aid he needs to return you to your lawful punishment.”

  Mallona burst out weeping, throwing her head from side to side, writhing and sobbing as she desperately tried to look at Davylla. With tears running down her face, Davylla rose and approached her husband, kneeling at his feet and clasping his knees.

  “My lord? Only one thing I would beg you. Don’t throw her into that prison house. Let her have a chamber for the night.”

  “For your sake, my lady, I’ll do that, and besides, no matter what she’s done, she’s noble-born.”

  The chamberlain stepped forward and bowed.

  “My lord? I know a little room that can be barred from the outside, and I’ll have the shutters over the window barred, too.” He glanced at Dwaen. “Does that suit His Grace?”

  �
�It does, my lord, and my thanks.”

  Elyc himself went with the servants, and Rhodry followed, to make sure that Mallona’s temporary prison was a secure one. When Sevinna rose, Dwaen joined her, smiling as he laid his hand on her arm.

  “Well, my lady, I’m afraid it won’t be much of a wedding procession, but will you come home with me when I ride?”

  Sevinna glanced round and found her uncle glaring at her.

  “Perhaps I’d best go to my father’s home first, my lord, and you can fetch me there.”

  “Very nicely put, lass.” Tudvulc turned the glare on Dwaen. “Still hasn’t been a word said about the blasted dowry or your marriage gifts, eh?”

  Gathering her skirts around her, Sevinna swept off to join the other women, who were waiting for her near the staircase. For a long moment they stared at her, pale faces, reproachful eyes, soft trembling mouths.

  “My lady?” Sevinna said to Davylla. “Think of me what you will, but Mallona was a spider in your glove, not a friend. I only spoke against her for your sake.”

  “So it seems. Why did you ride off like that?”

  “To keep her from poisoning me. I’m the one who exposed her ruse to trap Jill.”

  “She never would have!” Babryan broke in. “I don’t believe it. She’d never have hurt you, and she didn’t poison that lover, either!”

  “Baba, don’t be a dolt,” Wbridda snapped. “Or do you think she confessed like that because it was good sport?”

  Babryan began to cry, then turned and ran for the stairs.

  “I never liked her, anyway,” Wbridda hurled after.

  With a sob, Babryan raced upstairs, turning round the spiral and disappearing. More slowly, the others followed. When they reached the guest chamber, they found the door barred. From inside they could hear weeping.

  “Baba, darling,” Davylla called out. “Now be sensible and open that door. Sevvi and Bry have to sleep, too, you know.”