Sort of. Your life for theirs, you mean?
Just that. Theres nothing else a man can do.
Sort of. Your life for theirs, you mean?
Just that. Theres nothing else a man can do.
Jill began to feel better. Thinking of it as Wyrd made it seem clean again.
Its the only honor left to me, my bargain with my Wyrd, Cullyn went on. I told you once, never dishonor yourself. If ever youre tempted to do the slightest bit of a dishonorable thing, you remember your father, and what one dishonor brought himthe long road and shame in the eyes of every honest man.
But wasnt it your Wyrd to have the dagger?
It wasnt. Cullyn allowed himself a brief smile. A man cant make his Wyrd better, but its in his hands to make it worse.
Do the gods make a mans Wyrd?
They dont. Wyrd rules the gods, too. They cant turn aside a mans Wyrd no matter how much he prays and carries on. Do you remember the story of Gwindyc, back in the Dawntime? The Goddess Epona tried to save his life, but his Wyrd was upon him. She sent a spear at the cursed Rhwmanes, but Gwindyc turned and took the spear in his own side.
So he did, and he didnt even complain. But that lad you killed screamed.
I heard him. Cullyns face went dead calm, just as it had in the battle. But dont hold it against him. I dont.
Jill thought for a moment, then leaned against his shoulder. Cullyn put his arm around her and pulled her close. He was still her fatherand all she had in the world.
Close to nightfall, the herald returned. After conferring with the tieryn and the herald, Councillor Glyn sought Cullyn out.
Lord Ynydd will sue for peace in the morning, Glyn said. And Tieryn Braedd will grant it.
Thanks be to the gods of our people! Here, Jill and I will be riding on in the morning.
That night Cullyn let Jill sleep in the same bunk with him. She cuddled up to his broad back and tried to think of things other than the battle, but she dreamt about it. All over again she ran up to Cullyn and saw the dead rider, but when she looked up, Cullyn was gone, and Aiva stood there, just as Jill had always imagined her, tall and strong, with golden braids coiled about her head and a long spear in her hand. She was carrying a shield with a device of the moon in its dark phase. Jill knew that she couldnt see the moon if it was dark, but in the dream she could. Since she refused to disgrace herself in front of Aiva, Jill made herself look at the rider. As she watched, his whole body turned to blood and soaked into the earth until there was naught but grass, growing thick and green. When she looked up, Aiva was smiling at her, and the moon on her shield was full.
Jill woke and listened to the comfortable sound of Cullyn snoring beside her. She thought over the dream to make sure that she remembered all of it. Although she wasnt sure why, she knew it was very important.
II
For seven long years, ever since the lark omen down on the Eldidd coast, Nevyn had been wandering the kingdom and searching for the child who held his Wyrd in her soul. For all the power of dweomer, it has limits, and no dweomermaster can ever scry out a person whom he hasnt seen at least once in the flesh. Trusting the luck thats more than luck, Nevyn had taken his riding horse and his pack mule, laden with herbs and medicines, and lived by tending the ills of the poor folk as he traveled endlessly from place to place. Now, with another summer coming to an end, he was on the road to Cantrae, a city in the northeast corner of the kingdom. He had a good friend there, Lidyn the apothecary, with whom he could spend the winter in comfort.
The Cantrae road ran through endless grassy hills stippled with white birches in the little valleys. One particularly fine afternoon, he was traveling slowly, letting his horse pick its own pace while the mule plodded behind. He was lost in thought that was close to being a trance, musing over the woman he would always think of as Brangwen, even though she was now a child with another name. All at once he was startled out of his reverie by the clatter and pounding of a mounted warband trotting straight downhill toward him, about twenty men with the silver dragon of Aberwyn blazoned on the shields slung beside each saddle. They rode behind a young lad. One of the men screamed at Nevyn to get off the road and out of the way. Nevyn hurriedly swung his horses head to the right, but the lad rose up in his stirrups and yelled at the warband to halt.
Swearing aloud, with a clatter of hooves and the jingle of tack, the men did as they were told. As Nevyn rode toward them, he realized with a sense of absolute amazement that the young lord at their head was ordering them to get off the road and let the aged herbman pass by. The lad, some ten summers old, wore the blue, silver, and green plaid of Aberwyn. He was easily one of the most beautiful children Nevyn had ever seen, with raven-dark wavy hair, large cornflower blue eyes, and perfect features, his mouth so soft and well formed that it was almost girlish. Nevyn stopped his horse beside him and made him a bow from the saddle.
My humble thanks, my lord, Nevyn said. You honor me too highly.
Any man with hair as white as yours, good sir, deserves some courtesy. The young lord shot his men a haughty glance. Its easier for us to handle our horses than it must be for you.
Well, true spoken. Would his lordship honor me by telling me his name?
Lord Rhodry Maelwaedd of Aberwyn. The lad gave him a charming smile. And Ill wager you wonder what Eldidd men are doing so far from home.
I did have a thought that way.
Well, I was a page at my uncles, Yvmur of Cantrae, but my father sent part of his warband to fetch me home. My brother Aedry just got killed.
That saddens my heart, my lord.
It saddens mine, too. Lord Rhodry looked at the reins in his hand and blinked back tears. I loved Aedry. He wasnt like Rhys. Rhys is my eldest brother, I mean, and he can be a true hound. He looked back up with a sheepish smile. I shouldnt be saying that to a stranger.
Truly, my lord, you shouldnt.
When Nevyn looked into the boys dark blue eyes, he nearly swore aloud. For a moment he looked into another pair of eyes, looked through them into the soul of a man whose Wyrd was inextricably bound with his and Brangwens. Then the vision left him.
And will his lordship be staying at the Aberwyn court? Nevyn said.
Probably. I guess my father wants me home because Im the second heir now.
It would doubtless be wise of him, my lord. I may see his lordship in Aberwyn. I often travel to Eldidd to gather herbs.
Nevyn bowed again, a gesture that Rhodry acknowledged with a lordly wave of his hand, then clucked to his horse and rode on by. At the top of the hill Nevyn turned in his saddle to watch the warband trotting off in a cloud of dust. Luck and twice luck, he told himself, thanks be to the Lords of Wyrd!
That night, Nevyn found shelter in a shabby little inn beside the road. He got himself a stool by the hearthan old, tired man from the look of him, nodding over a tankard of ale and staring into the flames. None of the other patrons spoke to him, not even the rowdy riders of the local lord. He shut the noise out of his mind and concentrated on his scrying. In the hearth, flames played over logs, and embers glowed, forming a backdrop for his imaging. When Nevyn thought of young Lord Rhodry, he saw the lad wrapped in his plaid cloak by a campfire and eating a chunk of bread while his men sat nearby. Nevyn smiled, then banished the vision.
At last hed found a clue. Always before, in all those other lives theyd shared, hed found Brangwen linked to this mans soul. Sooner or later, if Nevyn didnt find her first, she and Rhodry would be drawn together, and now Nevyn knew where to find Rhodry. And what was his name, then? Nevyn asked himself. Blaen, truly, that was it, all those years ago.
At last hed found a clue. Always before, in all those other lives theyd shared, hed found Brangwen linked to this mans soul. Sooner or later, if Nevyn didnt find her first, she and Rhodry would be drawn together, and now Nevyn knew where to find Rhodry. And what was his name, then? Nevyn asked himself. Blaen, truly, that was it, all those years ago.
In the tavern men were laughing, jesting over ale, wagering on the dice. Nevyn felt utterly cut off from them and the normal life they represented. He was also very tired that night, and the memories came to him unbidden, as bitter as always. All he truly wanted to do was die and forget, but death was forbidden to him. A long time ago now indeed, he thought, but those days held the beginning of it all.
DEVERRY, 643
If you write in the sand with a stick, soon the waves and wind will wash away the words. Such are the mistakes of ordinary men. If you cut words into stone, they remain forever. A man who claims the dweomer becomes a chisel. All his misdeeds are graved into the very flank of time itself.
The Secret Book of
Cadwallon the Druid
The storm came at sunset, hard rain and wind that made the spring forest tremble. By dawn, the roof of the hut was leaking, a thin but steady trickle in the corner that grooved the dirt floor before it escaped under the wall. Rhegor stood with his hands on his hips and watched it run.
The way out wont be so easy for you.
I know, the prince said. But Ill be back here before the Beltane feast. I swear it.
Rhegor smiled as if he doubted it. He picked a couple of big logs off the woodpile in the corner and laid them on the small stone hearth. When he waved his hand over the logs, flames sprang up and flared along the bark. The prince let out his breath with a little hiss.
Youll have to get over your infatuation with these tricks, Rhegor said. The true dweomer lies deeper than that.
So youve said, but I cant lie and say Ive already gotten over it.
True enough. Youre a good lad in your way, Galrion.
As supple as a cat, Rhegor stretched his back, regarding the prince with shrewd eyes. Rhegor looked like an old peasant, short, barrel-chested, dressed in a dirty pair of brown brigga and a patched plain shirt with a bit of rope round his waist for want of a proper belt. His gray hair hung cropped and untidy; his gray mustache always needed a trim. At times, when he wasnt watching his thoughts, Prince Galrion wondered why he was so impressed with this man that hed follow his orders blindly. Its the dweomer, he told himself. Who needs wealth when youve got the dweomer?