The Dragon Revenant

by Katharine Kerr

  Rhodry’s cousin? Cullyn said. Now that’s interesting.

  “Interesting and a half, truly. He’s leaving Cerrmor by ship for Abernaudd tomorrow. I want to meet him there and head him off. It may not be politic for him to come marching into Aberwyn just now.”

  “Darryl and Gwarryc would take it wrong. They’d think he was the king’s spy, most like, and go all touchy about it.”

  “Just so, especially since Blaen’s got a warband with him. And another thing—when Rhodry does get home, it might be better if he landed at Abernaudd or even in some quiet little harbor like Morlyn rather than sailing right into a wasp’s nest. Which brings me to the main point. I was wondering if you’d come with me? We need to take the rest of Rhodry’s men along, too, if the regent will allow. We might need them.”

  “We might, at that, and of course I’ll come if my lady allows.” He turned to Calonderiel. “Now, I’m not sure what we’ll do with you while we’re gone. Lock you up, maybe. My wife tells me that her lass Glomer finds you too interesting for her own good.”

  “The child has splendid taste in men.” Calonderiel grinned at him. “But I’m coming with you. I know that Abernaudd will shriek at the sight of me, but I want to be there to greet Rhodry when he lands. Think of the effect it’ll have—a man of the Westfolk hailing our Rhodry as gwerbret and ally.”

  Cullyn whistled under his breath.

  “Effect, indeed,” Aderyn said, and he sounded oddly grim. “Well, if Rhodry lands, anyway. I wish to every god that there was some way to get reliable messages across this cursed ocean! I’ll have to try to think one up. Blaen is going to want to know where his cousin is, too, and the gwerbret is not the sort of man you like to keep waiting.”

  Although Blaen knew that traveling incognito would be impossible for a man of his rank and renown, he was trying to keep his arrival in Eldidd reasonably quiet. Under the king’s peace a man had the right to travel anywhere in the kingdom that he chose, whether he was a commoner or a gwerbret, but in practice gwerbrets were a good bit more limited than commoners, especially if they brought an honor guard of twenty-five men along with them. Blaen had no desire to offend Ceredyc, Gwerbret Abernaudd, by bringing armed men into his demesne; on the other hand, he refused to travel without them, because he couldn’t predict what sort of welcome he’d get in Aberwyn. If Rhodry were indeed dead, then Blaen would need to leave Eldidd very quickly, and someone might well be chasing him. Long before he left Cerrmor he sent a messenger to Ceredyc to make it dear that Blaen expected absolutely nothing in the way of ceremony or gwerbretal pomp and that he would only be staying a short while in Abernaudd, at the dun of a cousin, Lord Sibyr, who lived about two miles outside the city proper.

  He was surprised, therefore, to see a small crowd of men who were obviously riders from a warband waiting when the coaster came gliding up to the main pier in Abernaudd, and even more surprised when he realized that they were wearing the red-lion device of Dun Gwerbyn. With his captain, Comyn, trading after, Blaen walked up to the bow of the ship while the sailors were tying her up to the bollards.

  “That’s Cullyn of Cerrmor, isn’t it?” Blaen remarked.

  “Wouldn’t know, Your Grace. I’ve never seen him.”

  “Ah. I have, and I’d swear that’s him. Much older, of course, than the last time I saw him. He’s been Tieryn Lovyan’s captain for some time now. What’s he doing here?”

  The mystery was solved when the gwerbret disembarked and Cullyn came hurrying over to kneel before him.

  “It gladdens my heart to see you, Your Grace. A friend of Nevyn’s sent me to meet you.”

  Sorcery again. Blaen sighed, resigned and, now that he thought of it, rather accustomed to the whole idea as well.

  “Well and good, then, captain. You may rise. Where is this friend of Nevyn’s?”

  “Staying at an inn down in town, Your Grace, and waiting until you have a moment to speak with him.”

  “Well, that best be as soon as possible. I’m about to go impose upon my cousin, Lord Sibyr, who lives just off the north-running road. Go fetch your sorcerer, captain, and bring him to me …” Blaen paused, glancing up to check the sun’s position. “… about noon, I’d say. We should be finished with all the formalities by then.”

  “Done, Your Grace. Oh, and if I may be so bold, congratulations on the birth of your son. The King’s herald came through Aberwyn with the news about three weeks ago.”

  “My thanks.” Blaen allowed himself a small smile. “I’ll admit to being pleased myself.”

  Lord Sibyr’s dun was small and fortified only in the sketchiest sense; a low earthen wall enclosed a stone broch and some outbuildings standing on about two acres of land. Since Sibyr owed direct fealty to the gwerbrets of Abernaudd and thus would retreat to his city in time of war, and he also received his income from properties scattered all over the rhan, he didn’t need to live in a stronghold. In fact, the dun reminded Blaen of some merchants’ holdings: the graceful tower, made of imported pinkish stone, was flanked by two equally graceful half-brochs and set round with beautiful gardens. As the gwerbret and his men dismounted in the cobbled court in front of the main broch, Blaen was wondering if he should offer to go stay in an inn just to spare his cousin the trouble of housing real warriors. Yet when Sibyr hurried out to greet him, his welcome was warm enough. A tall, slender man with a fringe of gray hair round his well-shaped skull, Sibyr shook Blaen’s hand vigorously and yelled for pages to come tend his men.

  “Gome in, cousin, come in! It gladdens my heart to welcome you to our humble little home. Haven’t seen you since your wedding, eh?”

  “Has it been that long? Well, truly it has. I suppose you’ve heard …”

  “About the new heir? I have, and my congratulations indeed.”

  Sibyr’s great hall was as luxurious as his gardens. Its floor was covered with mosaics in the Bardek fashion, and its walls were hung with tapestries from the islands. They sat down in cushioned chairs at the table of honor and drank white wine served in blue glass goblets.

  “There must be a quite a lot of the Bardek trade coming through the city,” Blaen said.

  “There is, and a boon it is to everyone. Of course, in this new charter the High King’s granted Aberwyn a bigger share of it.”

  “Ah. That must irk some of your local merchants.”

  Although Blaen was only speaking casually, Sibyr went tense, cocking his head to one side to study his cousin as if he were wondering just what his implication might be.

  “No offense meant,” Blaen said, all cool courtesy.

  “None taken on my part, but there are some who might. It’s more than the merchants in Abernaudd who prosper on the Bardek trade.”

  Blaen smiled and had a sip of the excellent wine. So—there were some lords who might welcome trouble in Aberwyn. The question was, would they actively support it or merely look the other way? It was not a question that he cared to ask openly, especially not of a man who’d made him welcome at his table.

  “And how long will we have the honor of sheltering you?” Sibyr said.

  “I honestly don’t know. Not long enough for me to become a nuisance, I’m sure. Actually, I’m waiting for news, and it should be arriving here about noon. I took the liberty of telling the news-bringer that he could find me here. I hope that’s acceptable?”

  “Of course. Treat my house as your own.”

  Just at noon Cullyn of Cerrmor strode in, bringing with him a small man with snow-white hair that rose above his forehead in two peaks like the horns of a silver owl. Although Sibyr most courteously offered them seats at the table of honor, Blaen managed to find them a private spot, just up the central stairway and round a corner of the landing, where they could talk without being overheard.

  “This is Aderyn, Your Grace,” Cullyn said. “A trusted friend of Nevyn’s indeed.”

  “I’m honored to meet you, then, good sir.” Blaen made the old man a half-bow. “What news do you have for me?”

&
nbsp; “Not much as concerns Rhodry, Your Grace. I have the strong and distinct feeling that he’s safely on his way home, but I can’t be sure of it. As far as the situation in Eldidd goes, well, things are very vexed indeed, but I don’t think that this is the place to discuss it.”

  “No doubt you’re right. Just where can we discuss it, though? I suppose I could come to the tavern room where you’re staying.”

  “That might be politic, Your Grace. We just arrived here ourselves, you see, and I’m hoping that on the morrow I’ll have more to tell you about Rhodry, too.”

  “Suppose he is sailing home right now. Is he coming directly into Aberwyn? Will we get some advance warning before he lands?”

  “I hope he’ll land here, Your Grace, and as for the warning, well, I’ve figured out a way to get us some hours’ notice.”

  “A few hours? A night and a day would be better.”

  “Of course, my lord, but this is going to be tiring enough.” Aderyn looked pained, as if over an insult. “I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.”

  It seemed to Jill that during the trip from Bardek the Guaranteed Profit had traveled not across the ocean but through a crowded city. Not only was the dweomer-wind full of sylphs that swarmed round the mast and played among the sails, but gnomes and sprites thronged the deck, and sea undines clustered round the hull and in the wake like a mob of citizens lining up to watch a parade. At night the spirits of the Aethyr settled on the mast in a glow and flicker of blue fire. When she wasn’t with Rhodry or working on her dweomer-exercises with Nevyn, she would sit in the bow for hours and watch the Wildfolk. Usually her gray gnome came to sit in her lap or run up and down beside her like a restless child.

  Early one morning, when Nevyn had taken it upon himself to lecture Rhodry about the various political problems, in his new rhan, Jill was sitting in her usual place in the bow when she saw a particularly large flock of sylphs. Some hundreds of yards ahead they wheeled and dipped and circled around some unseen center like seabirds above a shoal offish. She got up and stood shading her eyes with one hand. As she peered at the flock, it seemed she could see an enormous bird at its heart—an albatross maybe? No, it was too large and too silver a gray. In fact, it looked like an owl, but no owl would ever fly out to sea.

  “Aderyn!” She began jumping up and down and waving her arms. “Aderyn! Here we are! Over here!”

  With a weary sort of flap the owl circled round and glided straight for the boat. As it came closer, she could see that it carried a cloth sack in its talons. Winging lower it passed overhead, dropped the sack safely on deck, then set-tied gracefully after it, perching onto a coil of rope.

  “Aderyn, Aderyn, I’m so glad to see you! Can you talk in that shape? I don’t remember.”

  “Somewhat.” His voice was a flat distorted squawk. “Fetch Nevyn.”

  As Jill turned and headed for the hatch, she realized that a number of sailors had seen the owl, too. Their faces a pasty gray, they jumped back and rushed to the stern to huddle around the helmsman, who was looking at the sky with the expression of a man engaged in furious full-speed prayer. Apparently Nevyn had heard her yelling, because he climbed up on deck, with Rhodry right behind him, before she reached the hatch.

  “Aderyn’s here.” Jill was jigging in delight. “He’ll have news.”

  When they all trotted back to the bow, Aderyn was not only human again, but he’d already put on the pair of brigga he’d been carrying in the sack and was slipping a shirt over his head.

  “That’s better,” he announced. “This wind is cold, I must say. Did you invoke it, Nevyn?”

  “Merely asked, actually. It most certainly gladdens my heart to see you. What’s the situation in Eldidd?”

  “Vexed, very vexed, but not blood-spilling dangerous—yet. We need to talk to your captain here, because it would be best to land in Abernaudd, not Aberwyn herself. Rhodry, Blaen’s in ’Naudd, waiting for you.”

  “Is he now?” Rhodry broke into a grin. “It’s going to be cursed good to see him again.”

  “Well, you will and soon, because you’re not all that far from land. Ye gods, my arms hurt! I’ve been flying out from the coast every day.” He began rubbing his right arm with his left hand as he talked. “We’ve got to be quick about this, because I’ve got to head back and warn Blaen you’re coming.”

  “You can ride the dweomer-wind back in,” Nevyn said. “Ah good, there’s Elaeno now. Let’s go talk to him.”

  When the others hurried off below decks, Jill stayed where she was. She sat down on the coil of rope, picked up her gnome and settled him on her lap, and wondered at herself, that she felt sad to the point of tears that they were reaching land. Sylphs and sprites settled around her, touching her face with little hands like puffs of wind and trying to comfort her, but all she could think was that she would lose them all if she didn’t fight to keep them. If court matters took her over, the Wildfolk would slip away, a few at a time, until she never saw them again.

  Before Aderyn left, Nevyn rubbed a rubifacient mixture into his old pupil’s aching arms and shoulders, and a great silver owl reeking of mint and camphor flapped wearily off to Abernaudd. Jill waved farewell until he was out of sight, then turned back to find Nevyn standing behind her. Rhodry and Elaeno had apparently gone below.

  “Nevyn, you will be coming back to Aberwyn with us, won’t you? I mean, you’ll live at court, won’t you?”

  “If my lady requests it, of course I will. Don’t forget, child, you’re the one in command now. I can’t give you orders or even ask too many outright favors anymore.”

  “Oh, by the black hairy ass of the Lord of Hell! Then I most humbly beg you, Lord Galrion, to come be my personal councillor at my husband’s court.”

  “My thanks, my lady. I shall be most pleased and honored to serve you.” Nevyn made her a courtly bow, but he was grinning. “And my first piece of official advice is to stop swearing by the Lord of Hell’s nether anatomy, especially in mixed company. Neither you nor Rhodry can afford to have you sounding like a barracks’ brat. Which reminds me. Along with all the other fripperies Tieryn Lovyan packed up for me, she sent some dresses and jewelry for you. I suggest you put them on for our arrival. Blaen and all sorts of notables will be there to greet us, you know.”

  “And how, pray tell, am I going to jump off this wretched boat in a pair of dresses?”

  “You can’t. Rhodry will have to lift you down.”

  “Oh, stuff that!”

  “My dear Lady Gilyan!”

  “My apologies. But what if he drops me?”

  “He won’t. From the time he was a little lad, they trained him to do this sort of thing, you know, like helping a lady dismount from a sidesaddle or feeding her at a formal dinner.”

  “I don’t care! He’ll just have to wait to practice on me, that’s all. I’ll dress up when we’re going to Aberwyn proper, but cursed and blasted both if I’ll do it now.”

  “Oh come now, do all these trivial little matters truly ache your heart so much? Or is it somewhat else?”

  “Well, there’s a lot of things, but …” She hesitated in sudden and profound embarrassment. Oh, come now! she told herself. No matter what else he is, Nevyn’s a physician and a healer. “Well, um, I was thinking, and well …” Suddenly her words came out with a rush. “Nevyn, do you think I’m barren? After all these years, first with Rhodry, and then with that stupid horse thief, too—but neither one of them ever got me with child. What if I’m barren, and then Rhodry has to put me aside someday for Aberwyn’s sake? I’d die rather than be humiliated like that.”

  “It won’t ever come to that because I’m sure you’re not barren at all. Consider the life you’ve led, child, riding all over the kingdom, training like a lad in swordcraft, fighting battles, sleeping on the ground, eating catch-as-catch-can and the cheapest tavern food as often as not, and running for your life half the time, too, once you and Rhodry were together—your womanly humors must be utterly disrupted! All
the fiery humor’s been engulfed and overwhelmed by the cold and watery ones, just for a start. And as for the time with Perryn, well, my dear Jill, I would have been very surprised if you’d conceived his child. He’s not truly human, you see, and much much less like a human being than an elf is. A boarhound and a sheepdog can produce perfectly good puppies, but consider a cat mating with a rabbit. You wouldn’t get kittens with long ears, would you?”

  “What a revolting way of putting it!”

  “My apologies for your tender feelings.” The old man was grinning at her. “I didn’t realize my lady was so delicate.”

  “Oh, don’t tease!” She could feel her face blazing with a blush. “But do you truly think I can bear children?”

  “I most sincerely do. Once you’ve had six months or so in the dun, with a soft bed to sleep in, and plenty of warmth and leisure, and the best food to eat and clean water to drink—you wait and see. You’ll be carrying an heir for Aberwyn soon enough.”

  “Oh. How wonderful. I, um … that gladdens my heart.”

  Nevyn raised one bushy eyebrow and looked her over with questioning eyes. She turned her back on him, studied the water foaming under the bow, and refused to answer. In a few moments she heard him sigh and walk away.

  Jill did compromise, however, for the landing at Abernaudd. Since they were nearly to land, Elaeno let her commandeer the last of the fresh water on board to wash her hair and as much of the rest of her as the supply would allow. Although she refused to wear a narrow and constraining underdress, she did put on a regular dress over her brigga and even kirtled it with a length of the red, white, and brown plaid of the Red Lion, Lovyan’s clan, which the regent had thoughtfully sent along. Since her father served the tieryn, that plaid would be Jill’s until her marriage. By hitching the crisp gold-colored silk up around her waist, she could leave the ship on her own terms and ride astride once they were on land, too. At the jewelry she balked, because every piece of it, ring brooch and armlet and medallion, had the dragon of Aberwyn worked into its design. Wearing it would have made her feel branded.