Part 54 (1/2)

”You're a sweet man, my lord,” Merry said, rocking the baby gently, ”but there's no place for a man in a nursery- Raising bairns is woman's work.”

”I know, but you'll have to admit that the Lady Mar- ianna isn't exactly the domestic type.”

Merry cackled. ”G.o.ds love you, I'm the one that'll tend to that. I raised the young mistress and you'll have to admit that she hasn't turned out badly. There's no need to fash yourself. Little Daria will be just fine.''

Jarrod was not at all certain that he wanted his daughter to grow up to be exactly like her mother, but there was no way he could say that to Mrs. Merieth.

Tradition was too strong to allow him to make too many demands. There was no cult of the Great Mother in Arundel, but there might as well have been.

”There are no better hands that she could be in, Mrs.

Merieth,” he said diplomatically.

”You take care of the mistress and I'll take care of the young 'un,” she said with a knowing grin.

Jarrod nodded and smiled. I must arrange some way of seeing more of my daughter, he thought as he walked out, though he had no idea of how he could arrange it.

There were no guests at Hall that night and, perhaps as a consequence, Jarrod drank too much. He did not make a spectacle of himself, managed to talk civilly to both Sir Kerris and his wife about matters pertaining to the Holding, but he was aware as he negotiated the stairs to his chambers that he was a mite unsteady.

Semmurel was waiting to help him undress and to put his clothes away, but if he noticed that anything was amiss, he was wise enough not to let it show. Jarrod washed with care and bade the man good night as the

296 bed curtains were pulled. He did not remember going to sleep.

When he woke to Make the Day, his mouth was dry and his head hurt. Cold water alleviated the symptoms and the ritual banished the pain. He was contemplating going back to bed, but Semmurel was waiting for him when he reached the room. He looked excited and he was holding a piece of paper in his hand.

”A message, sir; from the capital, sir; by bunglebird.”

He waved the paper. ”I took the liberty of transcribing it,” he added, his previous rect.i.tude apparently forgot- ten.

”Let me have some chai first, Semmurel, then you can read me the message,” Jarrod said and went and sat on the bed.

Semmurel complied and waited patiently as Jarrod sipped the hot liquid. When his master was finished, Semmurel cleared his throat and read, ”Ragnor dead.

Return Celador immediately.” He looked at Jarrod. ”It is from Greylock. At least that is what I think the bird said.”

Jarrod felt a sudden emptiness that had nothing to do with the previous night's indulgence. ”Why didn't you tell me that right away?” he said tiredly, and then waved his hand to cut off the answer that he knew would come. He felt tears p.r.i.c.k at his eyelids.

”Get out one of my Magician's robes, Seromurel,” he said gruffly. ”Then go and ask Sir Kerris to attend me here immediately. Word of this must be taken to the Holdmaster. After that, present my respects to the Lady Marianna and tell her that I must see her within the hour.”

”Immediately, my lord. And shall I be accompanying you?”

”I'm afraid not. I shall be leaving alone and I shall

THE UNICORN PEACE t 297

travel by unicorn. There's no possible way that you could keep up.”

”Very well, sir. I'll pack some things for you. And, sir, I'm very sorry to have been the bearer of such bad tidings.”

”The worst of all possible tidings,” Jarrod said sadly.

”He was a great man, but he was also my friend.”

ch^ptCR 25