Lilli found Bellyra in the women’s hall, alone except for little Casso. She was sitting at a table, sideways to allow for her pregnancy, while the child knelt on a chair padded with cushions. They had between them a big wooden bowl of Bardek glass beads, which Bellyra was showing him how to sort by their color and size while he laughed, staring at the pretties. In the afternoon sun their blond heads, bent toward each other, gleamed as if they’d been gilded. Cerrmor was so immensely rich, Lilli found herself thinking, that they could use a bowl of treasures as a child’s toy! Real glass beads, heaped up as casually as if they were pebbles from the seashore!
At that point Bellyra looked up, smiling in welcome.
“Your Highness.” Lilli made a quick bob of a curtsy. “I’ve come to tell you somewhat. I know the way into Dun Deverry.”
Bellyra stared, her full lips slightly parted.
“There’s a bolthole, I mean,” Lilli went on. “It leads from a ruined dun outside the city right into the inner ward.”
“Oh ye gods,” Bellyra whispered. “Some of our men could open the gates.”
“Just so, Your Highness.”
Bellyra grinned, then wiped the expression away.
“It must have cost you horribly,” the princess said. “Telling me this.”
“It did.” Lilli turned away. All at once it seemed hard to breathe, yet she couldn’t say why. “I couldn’t just blurt it out. I had to think about it for a long time.”
“No doubt, what with your kin—But truly, Lilli, Maryn means it when he says he’ll pardon anyone who asks. Really he will.”
“I believe it, Your Highness. It’s just that most of them won’t ask. They’d be dishonored if they begged.”
For a long moment the two women stared at each other, while the sun streamed into the bowl of beads and touched them with fire, and a laughing Casyl ran his hands through them. Bellyra looked away first.
“Lilli? Find some pages, will you? We need to talk to the captain of the fortguard about getting you up to the siege.”
“Me? I—”
“Well, they’ll need to know everything you do, where the tunnel leads, and what lies inside the dun between it and the gates.”
Lilli nodded, gasping a little for breath. Bellyra got up and walked over, holding out one hand.
“Come sit down. You’re pale as death.”
“Am I?” Lilli sank onto a chair. “Please, tell me somewhat. He really is the true-born king, isn’t he? Maryn I mean. Oh ye gods, if he’s not, then what have I done?”
“But he is. I know it in the very marrow of my heart and soul.” Suddenly Bellyra knelt, as if she were the commoner and Lilli the princess, and caught her hands. “Help us, Lilli! Please? I’ll send Maryn a letter with my seal upon it, begging him to spare your kin for your sake. But tell him what you know, all of it.”
“Your Highness, do get up! Oh, don’t kneel like that! Of course I will. The Boars aren’t my clan anymore, anyway. They’d never take me back, would they? All I have is Peddyc and Anasyn and the Rams, and they’re the prince’s men now.”
“That’s true.” Bellyra did rise, dusting off her skirts with both hands. “My heart aches for you, though. But Maryn will spare your mother. I can’t imagine him harming a woman, I just can’t.”
“No more can I. But will he force her into a temple?”
“Not if you beg him not to. He’s going to owe you a lot, isn’t he?” Bellyra smiled, then glanced at Casso. “Oh, you little beast! Get those out of your mouth!”
At the sound of the princess’s raised voice, Arda came rushing in from the adjoining chamber. Lilli left them to fuss over Casyl and wandered across the room to look out the window. Between the towers of Dun Cerrmor she could just see a distant stripe of ocean, blazing with sunset. To her dweomer-sight the water seemed to burn, and in that fire it seemed she heard men screaming in rage.
“Look—the moon’s past full again,” Maryn said. “She looked like just that when we invested the dun. So far they don’t seem to be surrendering. I wonder why they’re so slow about it?”
Nevyn allowed himself a brief smile at the prince’s jest. They were standing outside the royal pavilion, a large white affair with a peaked roof hung with the banner of the Red Wyvern. In the pale dawn light the gibbous moon lingered at the western horizon. Since he was hungry, Nevyn found himself thinking that she looked like a spectral cheese with one good slice nicked off. All through the scattered camp the army was waking. From cooking fires thin tendrils of smoke began to rise, as ghostly as the moon. Maryn yawned with a toss of his head.
“I wonder how my lady fares. Well, the messengers should ride in today, don’t you think?”
“There’s been more than enough time for them to reach Cerrmor and ride back, truly,” Nevyn said. “But I doubt me if Bellyra will have given birth yet. Another turn of the moon, most likely.”
“Well, when her time comes, the messengers will know where to find me, sure enough.”
Messengers arrived that very afternoon, and with them aid for the prince’s cause beyond any Nevyn would have hoped for. He was helping the chirurgeons change bandages when he heard shouting in the direction of the main gates. Some while later, just as he was finishing up, a manservant trotted up to fetch him.
“The prince says there’s urgent news, my lord. Somewhat of a surprise.”
A surprise it was—when Nevyn ducked into the prince’s pavilion, he saw Lilli and two servant lasses, Lilli perched on a stool, the lasses sitting cross-legged on the ground—all of them wearing road-dirty brigga under their dresses. For a moment he goggled while Maryn laughed at him.
“I felt just the same, good councillor,” Maryn said. “Lady Lillorigga of the Ram has brought us a boon beyond wishing for.”
“Indeed?” Nevyn bowed to her.
“Indeed. She knows the location of the bolthole out of the dun. And needless to say, what leads out also leads in.”
Lilli nodded and tried to smile, but she seemed nearer tears. All at once Nevyn remembered that she had blood-kin trapped inside the fortress.
“You look weary, my lady,” Nevyn said. “We’d best figure out where you and your women can safely shelter. Of course, with your foster-father here to protect you, you should have naught to worry about.”
“Just so.” Maryn glanced around and saw a page standing at the door. “Go find Tieryn Peddyc and tell him his foster-daughter’s here.” He turned to Nevyn. “I’ll have the herald announce it to the camp, that any man who gives her women the least bit of trouble will be publicly flogged.”
“That should take care of it, truly.” Nevyn allowed himself a wry smile. “Lilli, will you and your lasses shelter near me? I have a large tent, which you three can have, and I’ll commandeer myself a little one to put outside its door.”
“My humble thanks, Nevyn.” Lilli glanced at the girls, who of course agreed in murmurs. “There’s much I need to talk over with you.”
“No doubt. It’s a grave thing you’ve done, but I honor you for it.”
Along with Lilli and her two lasses, Clodda and Nalla, Princess Bellyra had sent a cart with a royal amount of gear—mattresses, blankets, a little half-round chair for Lilli, a chest of clothes and oddments, even an old faded Bardek carpet for the floor. Once all these furnishings were set up in Nevyn’s tent, the place looked quite comfortable, as Nevyn remarked.
“Still,” the old man continued, “I wonder about the wisdom of your being here. I don’t like thinking about what might happen if the regent’s men sally.”
“We should be safe enough for now, my lord,” Lilli said. “Here between the outer walls.”
“True. Still—I’d like you sent home to Cerrmor as soon as possible.”
Together they left the tent and walked outside. In the sun of a cloudless day Dun Deverry loomed at the top of the view, still seemingly safe behind its inner rings and baffles. Somewhere in those towers, Lilli thought, was her mother, perhaps looking down at the enemy camp s
o far below while her daughter looked up at her.
“Nevyn?” Lilli said. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”
“Absolutely.”
“Even though I’m betraying my kin and clan?”
“Even so. Do you know how these wars started?”
“I don’t, truly. I mean, I must have heard the tale at some time or other. I just can’t remember it.”
“Very few people remember, it’s been so long since, and fewer still care. War is all they’ve ever known. And that’s why your betrayal is no betrayal, but an act of honor, because it will end the long war and let the people remember peace.”
“I hope you’re right, I truly do.”
“So do I. I’ve staked my own Wyrd on it.”
She turned to see him smiling, but ruefully.
“Very well,” she said. “Then I’ll serve the prince in any way that I can.”
Yet round her heart she felt as cold and hard as the stone towers, so dark against the sky. She stood looking up at them until a familiar voice called her name: Peddyc. She turned to see the men of the Ram trotting toward her.
“Lilli!” Anasyn threw an arm around her shoulder. “The page told us about the bolthole. How splendid of you!”
Tight in his brotherly embrace she could laugh; she felt safe, she realized, for the first time in weeks. Peddyc stood watching, smiling a little, his eyes, set so deep in his lean face, weary from the soul.
“Bevva would be proud of you,” he said. “You’re a daughter of the Ram, sure enough.”
“Well, there! You see?” Oggyn said. “Our little Boars-woman has found a way to get herself to the battle.”
“What?” Nevyn snarled. “What could she possibly—”
“Who knows? But I think she should be placed under close guard.”
“Like a criminal? After she’s risked so much to help the prince’s cause?”
“The matter could be presented as a move to protect her.”
Nevyn stopped himself from snarling again. Oggyn’s moist mouth smiled inside his beard, as if at a victory.
“And how will Tieryn Peddyc and his men take that?” Nevyn said. “Or his overlord, for that matter?”
Oggyn’s smile disappeared. He turned on his heel and marched off, leaving Nevyn fuming behind him. Caradoc, who’d been watching from a little distance, strolled over.
“What a generous nature he has,” the captain remarked. “So mindful of the niceties of honor.”
Nevyn relieved his feelings with a string of oaths. Caradoc laughed.
“I just don’t understand why he’s so suspicious of the lass,” Nevyn said. “There’s naught she can do that would injure Maryn’s cause.”
“It’s not the lass, my lord. It’s you. You’ve got more influence over the prince than any man alive. Oggyn’s jealous. Needs to feel like he’s bested you in somewhat, even a little thing that should be beneath his notice.”
Nevyn opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again.
“Him and that Tieryn Gauryc both,” Caradoc went on. “I see him and Oggyn with their heads together now and again.”
“Indeed? Interesting. You’re right, of course, about Oggyn. He’d love to have more of the prince’s favor, and that means I need to have less. But Gauryc?”
“I don’t know what’s griping his soul so badly. I could ask around.”
“Would you? I should be most grateful.”
Nevyn had servants set him up a small tent some few feet in front of the door into Lilli’s, so that he’d see anyone entering and leaving there. He’d just finished moving his things into it when Caradoc returned, bearing news. They walked a little away from the camp down toward the outer wall to get some privacy.
“Here’s the gossip, my lord,” Caradoc said. “And men who sneer at women for being gossips should sew up the rip in their own brigga first—I’ve seen a lot of bare bum today. Gossip about this, gossip about that! Ye gods! But the rumor that matters to us wins the tourney, like. When Maryn’s high king, it runs, he’ll bestow the Cerrmor gwerbretrhyn upon you. Gauryc rather fancies that rhan for himself or his eldest son.”
“That’s ridiculous! I’m much too old, and I don’t have heirs. I’m not likely to get any, either.”
“Oh here, my lord! If you were Gwerbret Cerrmor, would your age matter one whit to a noble-born lass? For that matter, here’s young Lilli, an exile with no dowry. She can’t afford to be fussy, like, and they’ve all seen her walking with you in the gardens back home.”
“Ye gods! They think I’m courting her? Well, that would indeed give our Gauryc somewhat to worry over.”
“Like a terrier with a rat.”
“My thanks, captain. I’ll do some thinking and see if I can lay their minds to rest.”
“Why? Let them chew on it awhile. It’ll keep them out of trouble, like. A terrier that’s got a rat won’t go killing chickens.”
Nevyn laughed while Caradoc stood grinning, his hands shoved in his brigga pockets.
“And speaking of the Lady Lillorigga,” Caradoc went on. “The prince wants to talk with her as soon as she’s rested. He’d like you to escort her.”
“I will, of course. Huh. That’ll give our terriers another nice juicy rat. Freshly killed.”
That night, in front of his pavilion Maryn held a council of war. Off to one side he had the servants lay a small fire and tend it to provide light without too much heat, while he sat in a chair with Oggyn and Nevyn standing behind him and the gwerbretion and Caradoc as well sitting on the ground in front of him. At the prince’s request, Nevyn summarized what Lilli had told them earlier.
“So there’s a bolthole, sure enough,” Nevyn finished up. “But it doesn’t open anywhere as convenient as the king’s bedchambers. It’s a long walk from that side ward she described to the main gates, and between the main gates and us lie two rings of open ground as well.”
“It would be better, then,” Maryn said, “if we took the next ring uphill before we used the bolthole. I doubt if they’ll fight hard for it. It just encloses empty land.”
“That’s a good point, Your Highness,” Caradoc put in. “I’ve been doing some thinking. This dun was built as much for show as for defense. Why, by the hells! It would take ten thousand men to man these walls all proper, like.”
Maryn nodded a grim agreement. The noble-born sat quietly for a moment, digesting the news; then Tieryn Gauryc rose to speak.
“My prince? I’m wondering if perhaps we should just hold our siege and let hunger do the fighting.”
“A good point, my lord,” Maryn said, “but starving them out means starving half the countryside with them. How are we going to provision this army all winter long? Not without stripping every farm for miles around. I have no intention of ruling a kingdom of ghosts.”
“Ghosts don’t provision great courts, either,” Oggyn added. “If I may be so bold as to speak, my prince?”
“By all means.”
“My thanks, Your Highness. By my reckoning, we’ve confiscated all we can from the farms without stripping their seed corn or starving the men who’ll plant it. If there’s no winter wheat to ripen in the spring, what will the army be eating then?”
For the first time since he’d met him, Nevyn felt that Oggyn was an excellent fellow. The noble-born began to talk among themselves, but in a few brief words of what seemed to be agreement.
“And another thing, my liege,” Oggyn went on. “From what the men of the Ram tell me, the majority of the regent’s provisions and stores lie in the next to the last ring. If we capture those, then the situation of the royal compound becomes even more precarious.”
“An excellent point,” Nevyn said. “I recommend it to Your Highness.”
Oggyn smiled and bowed in his direction.
“Now here!” Gwerbret Daeryc scrambled up. “Are we all cooks and chamberlains, to stand around discussing bins of grain and jugs of milk?”
“Of course not, Your Grace!” Peddyc rose a
nd stepped forward to calm his overlord down. “What truly counts, my prince and liege, is the honor of the thing.”
“Indeed, Tieryn Peddyc?” Maryn said. “And what may that be?”
“That we’re warriors born and bred, not gatekeepers!” Daeryc interrupted.
“That’s true, Your Grace.” Peddyc smiled with a rueful twist of his mouth. “And since there’s a way into the dun, I say we take it—”
“—and flush the bastards out of cover!” Daeryc broke in.
Maryn tossed back his head and laughed.
“It seems to me, then, that the chamberlain and the warrior agree.” Maryn looked round at the semicircle of lords. “What do you say, men?”
“Attack! Red Wyvern! Red Wyvern!”
Their cheers rang out like brass bells on the evening wind.
“They’re up to something!” Burcan snarled. “Listen to that!”
From a great distance the sound of cheering drifted to the dun on the night wind. The sound turned Merodda omen-cold.
“They are at that,” she said.
“Rhodi, are you well?” Burcan caught her arm. “You sound like you’re going to faint.”
“My apologies. Let’s go inside. The air out here’s turned so cold.”
With his other hand Burcan held up the lantern he was carrying and peered into her face.
“It’s quite warm, as a matter of fact,” he said at last. “Let’s get you to your chamber so you can rest.”
Yet after he’d left her, Merodda got out her scrying basin. Every time she thought of Lilli, she felt torn ’twixt joy that her only daughter was safe and bitter envy. That night she scried for Lilli in the same spirit as she’d poke a bruise to ensure it still pained her. When she thought of Lilli, nothing came. The surface of the black ink stayed black without the slightest trace of an image upon it.
When Merodda tried to pour the ink back into its leather bottle, her hands shook so badly that she let it be. This could only mean one thing, that Lilli was here at the siege where Nevyn could protect her. But why? Peddyc and the Rams knew the dun better than she did, after all. What did she know that she could bring to the Usurper, a traitor’s gift? Or was it—Merodda’s hands turned so cold that she tucked them into her armpits. No doubt this Nevyn knew of the child’s gift with omens. No doubt he wished to use it for himself, just as she had.