The Fire Dragon

  Degwa was telling Oggyn some long involved anecdote about Bellyra while he encouraged her with questions. Lilli waited, listening to Degwa prattle on about the princess and her doings.

  “Well, I'm sure it's all innocent enough,” Degwa was saying. “Elyssa tells me I'm a dolt to worry, but really, that awful bard! He seems entirely too devoted to her, if you take my meaning.”

  “Oh, I think me I do,” Oggyn said, and something about his voice made Lilli think of warm grease sliding over meat. “I do indeed.”

  “I just worry, that's all. Now I really must be going, Oggo dearest. No doubt our princess needs me.”

  “I'll walk with you, my love.”

  Lilli waited until they were well past before she stepped outside, but for the rest of that afternoon she kept an eye on Degwa and her doings until at last she could catch her alone. Lilli put some thought into her approach as well. If she admitted that she'd overheard the conversation, Degwa would turn furious and thus avoid what she had to say. Clodda inadvertently gave her the perfect opening. Lilli had gone to her chamber and found her maidservant shaking out the blankets at the open window. They chatted a bit about very little at first.

  “My lady,” Clodda said after a few moments. “Somewhat's troubling me.”

  “What?” Lilli said. “You know you can tell me.”

  “Well, I know I've no call to be speaking ill of the noble-born, but it's Lady Degwa. Some of the princess's servants say that Lady Degwa's been gossiping about Her Highness and that silver dagger bard.”

  “Oh by the gods!”

  “I didn't like it, I didn't, but Lady Degwa won't be listening to the likes of me.”

  “Oh, don't you worry! I'll speak with her and straightaway.”

  Lilli stormed out of the chamber. When she went to the women's hall she found Degwa gone, but Lilli discovered her down in the great hall, where she was standing near the wall and looking around as if she were waiting for someone. At the sight of Lilli, Degwa drew back as if she'd seen a poisonous snake, but Lilli planted herself between her and the door.

  “I need to talk with you,” Lilli said. “About your suitor. Some of the servants have come to me with troubling gossip.”

  Degwa let her sneer fade.

  “They say you tell Oggyn about our princess's doings.”

  “So?” Degwa said. “The doings of the noble-born are always of interest. Why shouldn't I give him bits of news?”

  “News is one thing. Suspicions are another. The servant lasses are gossiping behind Bellyra's back, too.”

  Degwa stared, honestly puzzled, judging from the look on her face.

  “About her escort,” Lilli said at last.

  “Oh. The bard?”

  “Him, truly. They tell me you hint at goings-on.”

  “What? I never!”

  In anyone else, Lilli would have suspected duplicity, but with Degwa?

  “Well, then,” Lilli went on, “where are they getting these ideas?”

  “I might have said a few words about that Maddyn.” Degwa suddenly flushed scarlet. “I don't like him, and I don't trust him, and I particularly don't like the way he follows our princess about. But by the Goddess, I'm sure Her Highness never gives him the slightest word of encouragement.”

  “People often take things in ways you don't mean them. Please, Decci? You shouldn't even be hinting of gossip about our princess. Gossip always works more harm than witchcraft, sooner or later. You've been at court for years. You know it's true.”

  For a moment Degwa hesitated, thinking; then with a toss of her head she pushed past Lilli and hurried up the stairs.

  “Well, I did try,” Lilli muttered. She decided that when Nevyn came to her chamber at the dinner hour she'd lay the matter before him.

  Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing that evening would be too late.

  That afternoon the prince sent pages to fetch Nevyn and Oggyn for an informal council up in his private chambers. They sat around a small table and studied the maps of Deverry laid out there. Through the open windows, Nevyn could see a sky gone dark with rain clouds, but the heat of the day covered the men like an unwelcome blanket. Oggyn kept wiping his bald head with a rag; sweat stuck the prince's shirt to his chest. A circle of flies danced and droned in the center of the room.

  “I've called you here to discuss the matter of lands that once belonged to the Boar clan,” Maryn said. “In particular, those that rightfully belong to the heirs of the Wolf.”

  “Indeed,” Nevyn said. “The village of Blaeddbyr and the lands around it. I've forgotten how extensive they once were.”

  “I've got it here, all written out.” Oggyn laid a scrap of parchment on the table. “The old records are most reliable. I copied this from an old proclamation of the false king, the one where he was handing the Wolf lands over to the Boar clan.”

  “Good thinking.” Maryn picked it up. “The Boars wouldn't have let an ell's worth of land slip their grasp. No doubt it listed every stile and dungheap.”

  Oggyn smiled, leaned back in his chair, then rested his clasped hands on his ample stomach. He looked entirely too pleased with himself by Nevyn's standards.

  “Now, I'm mindful of the old ruling concerning the Wolf lands,” Maryn went on. “They're inherited through the female line, so the new lord of the Wolf will be the husband of Lady Degwa's eldest daughter.”

  “Just so,” Nevyn said. “She's married to the man who's the younger son of Gwerbret Ammerwdd's wife's sister. I think I've got that right, anyhow.”

  “Any connection with Yvrodur will do.” Maryn grinned at him. “Tenuous though it may be. I'll call him to court once I've been proclaimed high king.”

  “That will be soon, won't it, Your Highness?” Oggyn leaned forward. “I trust the priests won't be raising new obstacles to your kingship.”

  “None,” Nevyn said. “They've even found a white mare. Just like dweomer, it was, how fast they found her once Braemys had taken himself away.”

  All three of them laughed.

  “Then the omens are all good,” Oggyn said. “I'm so pleased. I was afeared that some dark thing might blight them.”

  “Such as?” Maryn said. “The well-known greed of priests?”

  “Just that, Your Highness.” Suddenly Oggyn looked away, as if he'd had a troubling thought. He paused for a long moment before he said, “Just that. Naught more.”

  Maryn's eyes grew narrow as he considered the councillor. Nevyn felt a touch of cold run down his back: danger.

  “What troubles you?” Maryn said. “Somewhat does.”

  “Er, naught, naught.” Oggyn was looking at the far wall. “Just an idle fancy. I'm sure it means nothing at all.”

  “What?” Maryn snapped.

  “Uh er, well, the gossip—and I'm sure that's all it is, Your Highness. The silly gossip of women who envy your wife.”

  “What about my wife?”

  “Naught, Your Highness. Not a wrong word about her, truly. But that bard, the silver dagger—well, I've heard that he aims above himself, hanging around her all the time as he does.”

  “I asked him to guard her myself.” Maryn's voice had grown dangerously low. “If you've forgotten that.”

  “Not at all, Your Highness, and I beg your pardon. It's just that I hear things, his being so much in her company and all. That perhaps he has it in mind to take liberties.”

  “I can't believe it,” Maryn snapped. “Not Maddyn! He's the most loyal man I've ever met.”

  “I'd not believe it of the princess, either.” Nevyn felt himself shaking with sheer rage. “Councillor Oggyn, you'd best have proof of these statements.”

  “I never meant a word against the princess!”

  “Indeed?” Maryn got up from his chair. “Then why have you even brought the matter up?”

  Oggyn went dead-white and sat gulping for breath.

  Abruptly Maryn stepped forward and leaned over him, braced himself on the arms of the chair, and leaned the more until hi
s face was a few scant inches from the councillor's.

  “What made you bring it up?” Maryn growled.

  “There was one night.” Oggyn was gasping for each word. “Her serving women couldn't find her. They looked all over. No sign of the bard, either. Finally, your lady turned up out in the ward, carrying a lantern, but she wouldn't say where she'd been.”

  Maryn let go the chair and straightened up, considered Oggyn for a moment, then slapped him so hard across the face that the councillor squealed and writhed.

  “I'll ask you again,” Maryn said. “Do you swear this is true?”

  Tears filled Oggyn's eyes, but he nodded. “I swear it,” he whispered.

  “Very well.” Maryn turned to Nevyn. “Let's have this out right now. Fetch my pages. Get my lady and her women down to the great hall. I want to know the truth of this.”

  “You're making a grave mistake,” Nevyn said. “I'd judge this thing in private if I were you.”

  “You're not me,” Maryn said. “Tell me, is Oggyn lying about this tale?”

  Nevyn hesitated, tempted to the very heart of him. He could lie and dismiss Oggyn's story right there and then. Oggyn had slumped down in his chair and was snivelling as if he feared that very thing. But the gossip won't end, Nevyn thought. “Your Highness,” Nevyn said. “He's telling the truth that he heard it. This says naught about the truth of the tale itself.”

  “Very well, then, we'll thrash this out right now. I won't have gossip spreading about my wife. The great hall will witness the true or false of this, and then there won't be any idle gossip.”

  “But the humiliation—”

  “Maybe it will teach her to watch herself better.” Maryn's face flushed white, then red. “Running about the ward at night, ye gods! Most likely she was just going to find one of her cursed inscriptions or suchlike, but she should have considered what people would think of it. By all the gods, she's going to be queen! Now go fetch those pages! I'm not going to stand here and argue about it any longer.”

  Outside the gathering clouds of a summer storm began to darken the afternoon, but Bellyra felt the first small signs that her birthing madness might be leaving her. For the first time in several months, she found herself thinking about the history of the royal dun. The pages of her book-to-be lay on a table by the window, where she'd left them on the day she went into labor. Elyssa had been dusting them daily and straightening the heap of cut parchments.

  “You know, Lyss,” Bellyra said. “I'm thinking I might read over what I've written so far.”

  “Splendid!” Elyssa said. “Shall I fetch the pages?”

  Before Bellyra could answer, the door banged open, and Nevyn strode in. She had never seen him or any man so angry, his head thrown a little back, his face dead-white with rage, his eyes snapping. It seemed that he exuded rage the way melted iron exudes heat, trembling the air around him.

  “My lady,” Nevyn snarled. “Your husband is the biggest fool in the whole wide kingdom of Deverry. Brace yourself and remember that I'm on your side in this.”

  Elyssa gasped, rising from her chair. Bellyra felt her heart start to flutter like a trapped bird. She laid a hand on her throat.

  “In what?” she managed to say. “Nevyn, what do you mean?”

  “That idiot Oggyn has made your husband suspicious of you. He claims that Maddyn the bard is entirely too fond of you.” Nevyn paused, visibly calming himself. “What's this about one night when your women couldn't find you?”

  “Oh that!” Bellyra rose, smoothing down her dresses. She found it surprisingly easy to tell a half-truth. “I couldn't sleep. I went to Otho's forge to watch him make a little gift for Maryn. I want to give him somewhat when he becomes king. I'd found Otho the silver, you see, and I gave him a pair of red stones from my mother's legacy. I didn't tell anyone because Degwa would have let it slip, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Is Maryn on the way here?”

  Nevyn growled, so doglike and fierce that she stepped back.

  “He's not,” Nevyn said at last. “He's commanding you to come down to the great hall and explain yourself in front of everyone.”

  For a moment Bellyra was afraid that she would faint. The room seemed to have grown very large, and herself very small. The light turned painfully bright and harsh. Elyssa sprang forward, caught her arm in one hand, and slipped her other arm around her shoulders to steady her.

  “I'm all right,” Bellyra whispered. “But how could he shame me this way?”

  “Just so,” Nevyn said. “That's why I'm calling him a fool.”

  Elyssa muttered something foul enough for a silver dagger. “My lady,” she said to Bellyra, “we'll put on your best dresses, and I'll do your hair as well, so he can see what a beautiful wife he's slandering.”

  Bellyra looked down at the dress she was wearing and ran her fingers over linen stained and shiny with age. “We shan't,” she said. “I cannot bear to wait that long. I'll go as I am, bare feet and all. It's good enough for a suppliant.”

  The door to the inner chamber opened, and Degwa came out, white and shaking on the edge of tears. “Your Highness,” she blurted. “Forgive me! I never thought Oggyn would repeat—”

  “You don't think, Decci!” Elyssa snapped. “That's your whole trouble in life, inn't? You just don't think!”

  Degwa started to answer, then merely snivelled.

  “Redeem yourself,” Nevyn snarled. “Go find Otho the smith and bring him to the great hall.”

  “The silver daggers' smith? I can't go mucking about the ward looking for a smith.”

  “You can and you will, you empty-headed little dolt!” Nevyn took one step toward her. “And you will do it now.”

  Degwa shrieked and ran for the door. Nevyn waited till she'd gone, then offered Bellyra his arm. “Shall we go, Your Highness?”

  “We will. I'm so glad you're here.”

  Elyssa followed as they left. The corridor stretched unnaturally long in front of her. With every step she told herself, “You can do this, you can do this.” She would be strong and firm, she decided, puzzled that Maryn would slight her so, but never anger, never tears, not and let him see how deep the wound he'd given her ran. When they reached the staircase, she could hear voices buzzing below in the great hall.

  “It's full of people,” she whispered. “All come to watch.”

  “Good,” Nevyn said. “They'll see with their own eyes and hear with their own ears that you're innocent of all wrongdoing.”

  When they started down the stairs she could see that indeed, servants and riders, servitors and noble-born vassals had all crammed themselves into the hall. Most stood for a better view of the table of honor, where Maryn stood waiting, his arms crossed over his chest. At his feet knelt Maddyn, but there was no sign of Otho or Degwa.

  They reached the floor of the hall, and the crowd parted to let them through. As they passed, silence fell behind them. Bellyra felt as if the great hall had swollen as large as the dome of the sky; she was tiny, creeping along, all cold and sweaty at the same time. At last they reached the table of honor. Maryn looked at her with eyes as cold as the silver they resembled.

  “You may kneel,” Maryn said.

  “I shan't.” Bellyra took a deep breath and spoke as clearly and loudly as she could. “You're not yet high king, but my equal in rank. It's only through me that you even have a claim on Cerrmor.”

  Behind her she could hear the crowd whispering. When she glanced at Nevyn, she saw him suppressing a smile. She knew that she couldn't risk looking at Maddyn, kneeling with his head down, as if he couldn't risk looking at her. The memories of his mouth on hers, of his hands upon her back—she forced them away.

  “That's true spoken.” Maryn's voice dipped to a growl. “Very well, stand then.”

  Her hands were shaking so badly, and so cold, that she clasped her arms over her chest and tucked her hands inside them.

  “I want to know, my lady,” Maryn said, “about this night when your women could find no trace o
f you.”

  “So your councillor told me, my lord. I was in the forge of Otho the smith, where I was watching him make you a gift to celebrate your kingship. I gave him silver and the two rubies I had from that bracelet my mother left me. I told no one because I wanted to surprise you.”

  Maryn winced. The gesture made her decide that she might perhaps be able to forgive him one day.

  “While I was there,” Bellyra continued, “the man you'd set to guarding me came in as well. He'd seen me crossing the ward alone and was mindful of his duty to you.”

  At that Maddyn looked up and caught the prince's eye.

  “So I did,” Maddyn said, “Your Highness. But when your lady left the forge, she ordered me to stay behind. Her women were coming to fetch her, you see.”

  The prince glanced at Lady Elyssa.

  “We did, Your Highness,” Elyssa said. “We called to her, and she answered, and so we hurried over to escort her back to the women's hall.”

  Caught, the prince opened his mouth and shut it again. He glanced away, glanced back to Nevyn, who merely stood looking back at him.

  “Can this be true?” Maryn said at last. “If Otho can confirm—”

  “Cursed right I can!” Otho was bellowing at the top of his lungs. He strode into the hall through the doorway behind the prince. “What is all this rot and nonsense?” He was looking at Nevyn as he spoke, not the prince.

  “Someone's filled the prince's ear with poison,” Nevyn said. “This person wanted him to believe his wife had been unfaithful to him. It's that night she came to your forge.”

  “Worms and slimes!” Otho spat on the floor, then looked at the crowd, pressing in behind her. “I want everyone to hear this, I do.”

  Otho bowed to the prince, then climbed up on a chair and from there to the table. He stood with his hands on his hips and glared down at Prince Maryn, who seemed too surprised to protest this unseemly behavior.