Daughter of Prophecy (29 page)

He took a deep breath. How he longed to be out of this chair, to stand before his opponent with the familiar heft of his sword in his hand.

Why did he keep thinking of this man as an adversary like Maolmin? Lord Gillaon had warned him that the Broken Stone merchant moved in the highest circles of nobility and government. A person to be taken with the utmost seriousness. Harred believed it.

What to do about Zoe? If she was from Costos, it was possible, though by no means certain, that she served the Eternal. More likely she did not. A
pagan
—albeit a secret one—as princess and ultimately queen? Would Gillaon go along with this?

No, though Gillaon's own lust might be stirred up by Zoe, he would see this woman for what she was: poisoned bait dangled in an effort to—what? Take the throne? End the Covenant? Both?

Harred's mind reeled. He could not make a decision like this.

Suddenly he realized this was his lord's true reason for not coming. Cannily, Gillaon must have feared something like this: a demand carefully wrapped and presented. Gillaon had borrowed beyond his limit to buy the wool and was vulnerable to pressure from the Broken Stone merchant. If Thoven did not take the wool, who would? The Sabinis controlled all Land harbors and shipping. Gillaon would be unable to export the wool to the lucrative markets across the Great Sea. He would be ruined. But by sending a young rhyfelwr not empowered to deal beyond the wool agreement, Gillaon would deflect any such pressure.

Harred struggled to keep the relief off his face. Here was his way out. A way around the wrongness roiling his guts. “I am under strict orders to sell the wool and purchase the return goods only,” he said. “I will relay your request to Lord Gillaon. He requests another load of amber and other jewels later in the summer while the passes remain open. When we return, I will bring his answer.”

Thoven frowned fiercely. “That is too long! Another will have to see this done, and Lord Gillaon will lose the reward.” He glared at Harred. “You risk much. A man of Lord Gillaon's talents is wasted as a mere kinsmen lord. He is capable of more—much more. When he understands what he has lost with this opportunity he will not be pleased.” Thoven waited expectantly.

The implications of all this continued to batter Harred. Six months ago he was a simple warrior. Now he found himself in the middle of a plot to place a pagan queen on the throne—at the very least, and perhaps to end the Faber dynasty and the Covenant as well.

“I do not have the authority to make this kind of decision,” he replied truthfully.

Thoven hissed in disgust. He stood angrily to his feet.

Harred rose as well. “And the wool?”

Thoven ignored the question. “I will prepare a letter outlining our conversation for you to give Lord Gillaon. Though this opportunity has passed him by, there will be more.” The cold promise in the merchant's voice sent a shiver down Harred's spine.

“And the wool?” Harred repeated dangerously. Weary of this war of words, his hand edged toward the knife strapped to his back. If Thoven reneged on the agreement, Harred was ready to kill him, then walk outside and signal Elmar and the Tarenester men to arms. The emerald Keto wore should come close to repaying Gillaon's debt.

Thoven watched him as if reading his thoughts.

“Easy, warrior. If it is top-grade Dinari wool, as I am sure it is, then I will pay eight silvers per bale as promised. And we have brought ample wares for your trip back. Return here two months from today, and Keto will meet you with more amber and jewels.” His eyes glowed. “But hear me! Tell Gillaon that if we are to continue beyond that, he must bring triple the number of Dinari bales next year. I will pay a gold per bale. Triple it again, and it will be a gold and two silvers.”

Thoven smiled, and Harred felt another chill. “Let us see how Maolmin and the North counter that.”

Chapter Twenty-two

L
AKENNA

“A
FTER THE
M
AIDEN
Pole,” Creag explained, “the kinsmen gather for music and dancing and singing—”

“And scenes and skits,” Phelan broke in while Ove set out his bowl. “I like that the best.”

“This time I will help Girard tell
The High Lord's Horn
.” Creag took a loaf of bread from the wooden platter, tore it in two, and handed Rhiannon the decidedly smaller piece.

Lakenna watched approvingly as Rhiannon bit back a retort and then thanked him. It was Rhiannon's sixteenth birthing day celebration. Everyone in the pavilion seemed in high spirits. In the morning, Serous and his herders and Phelan would begin driving the sheep to the high pastures. It had long been Lord Tellan and Lady Mererid's custom to combine Rhiannon's birthday with a feast for the departing herders, their families, and the three family heads.

The tables were arranged in a huge U with the people seated according to rank. The Rogoths sat at the head table with Girard, Llyr, and their wives. And Lakenna. Serous and the three family heads and their wives sat on the sides closest to the Rogoths. The other herders and their families stretched further down the table.

Lakenna wore a new gray wool dress that Mererid had presented to her before the feast. Even with the plain stitching and no lace, it was the finest Lakenna had ever possessed. Mererid wore a dark yellow dress with a narrow band of ivory lace outlining the bodice. The skirt was wide and flowing. Rhiannon looked stunning in the green linen she had worn at the wool sale. Surprisingly—or maybe not—it was no struggle to get her to wear it tonight.

Tellan stood. He looked distinguished in a high-collar dark blue coat, white shirt, and brown breeches. His black hair was oiled and combed. The happy babble died down into an expectant silence. He turned to his daughter. “Today, Rhiannon de Murdeen en Rogoth, you come of age.” He stopped, eyes misting. “Henceforth you will be addressed as Lady—” He cleared his throat. “You will be addressed as Lady Rhiannon.” His voice thickened. “And that you are. A beautiful and noble young lady with whom I am most pleased.”

Lakenna glanced at Mererid. Her stepmother's smile was sincere and loving. She handed Tellan a requin, the woven leather band that clan maidens wore encircling their hair and forehead to signify that they were ready for courtship and betrothal.

Tellan's face was a mixture of emotions as he placed the requin on his daughter's head. “The man who takes this off, Lady Rhiannon, will be blessed indeed.”

Rhiannon sat misty-eyed while her father and Mererid, then Girard, Llyr, Serous, and the three family heads took turns congratulating her.

That done, the banquet began. Ove shuffled stiffly around, filling bowls.

During the meal Mererid patted her lips with a linen napkin. “Normally, Teacher, the three kinsmen groups here in the Clundy River valley hold a Maiden Pole together. But with the Presentation for Prince Larien upon us, High Lord Maolmin has announced his Erian kinsmen will hold their Maiden Pole the morning of the Presentation. He invites all Dinari to join them. We have not had a clan-wide Pole in years.”

“Remember Loreteller Abel's daughter, Breanna?” Girard asked. “She was the one who accompanied him at Lachlann. The girl is betrothed to Ryce Pleoh and will be married at the ceremony.” He paused and lifted an eyebrow. “I have heard her bride price is ten gold coins.”

Everyone was stunned. From talks with Vanora, Lakenna knew that two gold coins were normal; five was high. Ten seemed extraordinary for a commoner, even for the daughter of a high-ranking advisor.

“Ten golds,” Mererid said slowly, “would purchase a fancy carriage, four horses to pull it, and still leave coins left over.”

Bowyn Garbhach cleared his throat. “M'lord, after the insult the High Lord has shown by not including Mistress—I mean to say
Lady
Rhiannon—in those to be presented, me and the other heads are in agreement that we should hold our own Pole as always.”

Murmurs of assent came from all.

“The Rogoth kinsmen will attend the Dinari Maiden Pole and the Presentation,” Tellan stated flatly.

“Most assuredly,” Mererid agreed.

Lakenna glanced at Rhiannon. The young woman's face held relief—with perhaps a touch of sadness. What was that about?

“But enough of this,” Mererid said determinedly. “Back to our food.”

“Teacher,” Phelan said as he pulled up the bowl of white sauce and spooned on a layer, “after the Maiden Pole is over, you have to hear Lord Baird tell
A Serving Maid's Dilemma
, especially if things have been going for a while and he has emptied several tankards.”

Tellan lowered his spoon, opened his mouth as if to protest, then closed it. His face was carefully neutral.

Mererid took a sip of hot tea. “Lord Baird can tell any story he wants to his kinsmen. With
ours
, your father will see that the good lord maintains a proper tongue in his head.” A smile played at the corners of her lips.

Phelan's expression was guileless. “But Mother, no one enjoys Lord Baird's stories more than Father. Last time, he laughed so hard he had tears—”

“Phelan,” Tellan growled, though Lakenna noted the twinkle in his eyes, “do you seek to land on my bad side?”

“No, sire.”

“Then attend your bowl while your brother informs Teacher Lakenna of the wonders of our Pole.”

Everyone laughed.

Rhiannon passed the bowl of white sauce. Lakenna hesitated, then put a tiny dab on the tip of her spoon and mixed it thoroughly into her stew.

“It is more than songs and music,” Creag said.

Lakenna took a small bite of stew, then a quick bite of bread. Fire on her tongue caused beads of sweat to pop out on her brow. How could anyone get used to such spices? She reached for the cheese.

“More than anything, the Maiden Pole is when we acknowledge to each other that we are . . . ” Creag's face reddened. He looked around and then mumbled, “That we are kinsmen.”

“The Maiden Pole is for clan members only,” Mererid said.

“I see,” Lakenna said into the silence.

“A member of another clan can come, but it is rare.”

“Of course.” Lakenna glanced at Vanora, the maiden so besotted with Rahl, who was sitting at the end of the table. All the girl talked about was betrothals and Rahl, and the Maiden Pole and Rahl. And the two gold coins Rahl had saved for her bride price. Even though Bowyn had not given his assent, Lakenna had assumed they would be betrothed at the ceremony and that she would be there to see her two students. Now, strangely, Vanora seemed to be fighting a smile.

Girard said, “But rest assured all Dinari clansmen will be at the Presentation. None would dare miss it.”

Silence reigned once more. Lakenna's face heated. Should she leave? Surely they were aware that this was making her feel excluded.

Serous, the head herdsmen, was watching her. He seemed to be considering something. Finally he stood and spoke. “I have watched Lakenna Wen since she has come. Everything she has touched is better. She has poured herself into my boys. They read and do sums. Her prayers helped save Lord Tellan and Mistress—
Lady
Rhiannon from the winged horrors. I stand for Lakenna Wen.”

No,
Lakenna breathed inwardly.
Not my prayers.

Bowyn Garbhach spoke. “Like Serous, I have watched Lakenna Wen. Vanora learns and grows. At Lakenna's urging and for the same pay more children will learn in the fall. My family sleeps safer because of her.”

You don't know. If you did . . .

Bowyn came to his feet. “I stand for Lakenna Wen.”

Jon Luwin, the furniture maker and family head, rose. “I stand for Lakenna Wen.”

“I stand for Lakenna Wen,” said Bar Colemon, the third family head.

Llyr came smoothly to his feet and rumbled, “I stand for Lakenna Wen.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks. She didn't understand totally, but she had an idea.

Girard confirmed it. “Lord Tellan, five Rogoth kinsmen, true Dinari all, stand for Lakenna Wen. What say you?”

Tellan rose to his feet. “Do these five stand of their own free will and accord?”

“We do, m'lord.”

“Do any here have ought against Lakenna Wen?” Tellan waited, his eyes searching the pavilion.

Only me.
Through tear-filled eyes, Lakenna looked at the five good men.
I was tested and found wanting.

Tellan nodded. “I am satisfied.” He turned to her. “Lakenna Wen, the Rogoth kinsmen, and through us, Clan Dinari, offer you a place among us. This is more than attendance at the Pole, Teacher. This is entrance into our clan we offer. If you accept, know that our homes and hearths will be ever open to you. Your enemies will be our enemies. We will stand shoulder to shoulder with you should they attack you in word or deed.” He gestured to the other men standing. “More importantly, by standing for you, these five pledge that should you find yourself unable to repay any obligation, moral or financial, they will take that debt upon themselves.”

She covered her face with her hands.
No!
Sobs tore through her.
I am unworthy of this.

“Lakenna Wen, do you accept our offer?”

I cannot. O dear Eternal, how can I?

“Lakenna Wen, do you accept our offer?”

She opened her mouth to refuse, but it came out, “Yes! Yes. Help me be worthy of this.”

Rhiannon came to her side and took Lakenna's hands. “Having you as part of my family is the best birthing day gift I can think of.”

Strong arms enveloped her. It was Mererid. “Welcome, sister. Welcome.”

Lakenna buried her face in that good woman's bosom and wept.