They came to a gentle rest in his courtyard. A horse, waiting in the yard, screamed in terror. Dogs in the hall howled. Coren dismounted stiffly, his breath catching in a laughter beyond words, and swung Sybel to the ground. She clung to him a moment, stiff with cold, and felt Gyld’s mind searching for hers.
Gyld. Be still.
There are men with torches. Shall I—
No. They are friends. They just did not expect us tonight. No one will try to harm us. Gyld, that was a flight beyond hope.
It pleased you.
I am well pleased.
“Rok!” Coren called to his brother’s torchlit figure moving toward them down the steps. The dogs swarmed growling between his legs. The children jammed the doors behind him, then scattered in a wave before Ceneth and Eorth. “We have a guest!”
“Coren,” Rok said, transfixed by the lucent, inscrutable eyes. “What in the name of the Above and the Below are we going to do with it?”
Coren caught one of the dogs before it nipped at Gyld’s wing. “I have thought of that, too,” he said cheerfully. “We can store it in the wine cellar.”
NINE
They sat late with Rok, Ceneth and Eorth, until the great hall quieted and the dogs had gone to sleep at their feet. Coren told of their meeting with Tam and Drede’s guards, and Rok listened silently, whirling a wine cup slowly between forefinger and thumb. Me grunted when Coren finished.
“The boy is soft, yet. I wonder what Drede himself would have done.”
“He would have done what I wanted him to,” Sybel said. Rok’s tawny eyes flicked to her face.
“Could you have controlled all of them?”
“No. They could have overwhelmed us, but it would not have been a pleasant encounter for them.”
“But you could control the King.”
“Rok,” Corers murmured, and Rok’s eyes dropped. He leaned back in his chair.
“Well. I am thankful you are safe. It was foolish of me to think of you for a moment as simply a man and his wife who could move safely as children through Eldwold, and to let you go alone.”
Cores shrugged. “It was best that you did. There would have been a small war in Sybel’s house if Eorth and Herne had been with us, and we would all be licking our wounds in Mondor by now, including the animals. Besides, even if Eorth had kept his temper, he probably would have broken his neck falling off Gyld on the way home.”
Eorth refilled his cup. “At least, I would have had enough sense not to let myself get trapped in a corner by three of Drede’s men. They must have made enough noise riding up the hill to warn you.”
Coren flushed. “I know,” he said. “I should have heard them. I was distracted. Cyrin was telling me about the time he met the witch Carodin in her doorless tower and answered six out of her seven riddles and discovered even she could not answer the seventh.”
Eorth looked at him bewilderedly. “A Boar told you all that?”
“He talks.”
“Oh, Coren, you have told us ridiculous things, but—”
“It is not ridiculous. It is true. Eorth, you never could see farther than the sword in your hand—”
“Well, that is as far as any man needs to see in this land.” He appealed to Sybel. “Is he lying?”
“He never lies.”
He looked at her incredulously. Rok said, with a grunt of laughter, “Eorth, do not start a fight on my hearth. I never would have believed Coren would ride a Dragon to my doorstep, but he did and I do, now. And I am also beginning to think twice about other things he has said.”
Coren reached across the table for Sybel’s hand. “You see what a poor reputation I had before you married me.”
“So. You married me for my animals. I always knew it.”
“I married you because you never laughed at me. Except when I asked you to marry me.”
Eorth leaned back in his chair and grinned. “She laughed? Tell us about that, Coren.”
“No.”
“I laughed because I thought you had sent him to marry me,” Sybel said. “Then, when I realized he loved me, I stopped laughing.”
Ceneth rose, moved to the fire. The great house was still about them; shadows fell like tapestry from the walls.
“If you are not careful, Eorth, Sybel will have Gyld leave you naked on top of Eld Mountain and no one will miss you.”
“I am sorry.”
“You are not. You are jealous that you did not marry a woman with a dragon.”
“Now we have one in our wine cellar,” Rok murmured. “I wonder what our father would have said about that.”
Eorth gave a snort of laughter. “He would have quit drinking. I thought of something a moment ago.”
“Did you?” Ceneth said wonderingly. “What?”
“That if Sybel had a daughter, she could marry Tamlorn, control him, and in two generations the Sirle Lords could be Eldwold Kings.”
“I hardly think Tam would wait fifteen years to get married,” Rok said dryly.
“He could marry into Sirle anyway,” Ceneth said. “Herne’s daughter Vivet is twelve in summer.”
“Drede would never permit it.”
“So? The boy could melt Drede like wax.”
“And who in Sirle is to melt Tam to this plan?”
“Sybel, of course.”
Coren’s hand came down sharply on the table. The wine quivered in their cups. He looked at the three silent men: Rok, big, gold-maned; Ceneth with his sleek black hair and cat-calm eyes; Eorth, slow, and leaf-bright and powerful. He lifted his hand from the table and closed it. Eorth said, flushed,
“I am sorry. I was babbling.”
“Yes.”
“We all were.” Ceneth troubled the fire a moment with his foot. Then he turned, dropped a hand on Coren’s shoulder. “It will not happen again.”
Coren sighed, his face loosening. “Yes, it will. I know this house. And I know what talk is worth these days. Like a dragon flight, it comes to nothing in the end but sleep.”
“Harsh, but true,” Rok said. They were silent awhile. The fire dwindled to a single flame that danced above the embers. Eorth yawned, his teeth winking white as Moriah’s.
“It is late,” he said surprisedly. Ceneth nodded.
“I am going to bed.” He stopped beside Sybel, took her hand and kissed it. “Lady, be patient with us.”
She smiled up at him. “You make it easy to be patient.”
He left them. They sat finishing their wine, while the shadows lengthened and locked over their heads. Coren put his empty cup down, swallowing a yawn.
“Coren, go to bed,” Sybel said. “You look tired.”
“Come with me.”
“In a moment. I want to talk to Rok about Gyld.”
“Always Rok. I will wait.”
“And then I want a bath.”
“Oh.” He pushed his chair back and leaned across the table to kiss the top of her head. “Do not keep Rok up too long. He is an old man and needs his sleep.”
“Old— At least I am not getting so slow and deaf I am easy game to any fool in Drede’s service.”
“Three fools,” Coren said. “It took three. Good night.”
“Good night,” Rok said. Beside him, Eorth’s head drooped, his cup dangling empty from his hands. Rok took it from him and set it on the table. “Eorth.” He began to snore softly. Rok turned away from him, his mouth crooked.
“I am sorry if we troubled you tonight. Coren is right, though: since Drede stopped us at Terbrec, we talk a good deal and do little.” He paused a moment. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”