Part 9 (2/2)

Lord Odfrey met his look of wild astonishment and dawning rage with a grim lack of deference. ”If you expect me to believe a tale such as this, you are much mistaken. You sit on a war-trained horse, armed with dagger, whip, and javelins. Do you really expect me to believe an unarmed, half-starved, wounded, and frozen wretch like this eld boy could bring the slightest harm to your royal person? I think not.”

Gavril's blue eyes grew very dark and still. ”Do you also call me a liar, my lord?”

”I call you a spoiled lowland brat,” Odfrey replied. ”You flight around my lands with courtier airs and too much conceit in yourself. The king sent you to me for training, and by the blood of Tomias I do not see that task as one of providing you with more flattery and spoiling. You've been here a month, and by now you should know my rules. Did I not expressly forbid you and the others to enter the Nold forest?

There is a war in that land, a war that is no concern of ours except in avoiding its dangers. Your safety cannot be guaranteed in such a place.”

”I will hunt where I please,” Gavril replied. ”We were coursing a stag. Would you have us let it go free because of a mere boundary?” ”A stag,” Lord Odfrey said. His dark eyes narrowed. ”What became of it?” ”We brought it down,” Gavril boasted. ”Kaltienne took the first shot with his bow and wounded it.

My dogs are superb coursers, and we caught up with it as soon as it fell. My arrow finished it. We wear its blood, as you can see.” ”Who is packing out the meat?”

Gavril blinked as though puzzled. ”The meat is of no importance.” It was Lord Odfrey's turn to redden.

His mouth opened, but although a small muscle leaped in his jaw he did not speak. After a moment he snapped his jaws shut and wheeled his horse around so fast he nearly knocked Dain over. ”Huntsman!”

he shouted with enough volume that his voice echoed across the marsh. ”Take those men and go back for the meat.”

”But, m'lord, it's to be dark soon,” the man protested.

”You know I will not abide waste,” Odfrey said.

”But the dark, m'lord. In Nold, m'lord.”

Lord Odfrey growled to himself. ”Sir Alard,” he said to one of the knights. ”Did you leave the arrows in the beast?”

The man had been slouching in his saddle when Lord Odfrey spoke to him, then quickly sat erect. ”I'm sorry, m'lord,” he said slowly. ”In the race after-I didn't think of it-it seemed less important than-”

”Mandrian arrows left bold as day in a carca.s.s not even skinned and butchered. What insult will be taken? What clan owns the land where you brought down the stag?”

All of them, Gavril especially, looked blank. Dain comprehended the reason for Lord Odfrey's disquiet.

It was an insult to trespa.s.s when hunting game, and a bigger insult to hunt game for sport, not food. It spoke of an arrogant disregard for owners.h.i.+p of land and property. If any dwarf found the stag on landclaimed by a clan, great offense would be taken. Dwarves could and did start wars with far less provocation. Would they attack a Mandrian hold for such a reason? Unlikely, especially with the war against the Bnen now raging. But Lord Odfrey understood dwarf ways, and that was unusual for a Mandrian n.o.ble. Dain's respect for the man went up a notch.

”Were there clan markings that anyone noticed?” Odfrey asked.

Again, no one answered.

In a quiet voice, Dain said, ”Yes, the Clan Nega.”

Lord Odfrey whipped around so fast Dain was startled. His dark eyes bored into Dain, piercing hard.

”Nega? Not Rieg?”

”Rieg lands are here, near the edge of the forest,” Dain replied. ”The marsh is your land, yes?”

But Lord Odfrey wasn't listening. ”Nega,” he repeated. His face grew thunderous and he glared so furiously at Gavril that the prince looked momentarily alarmed, then more defiant and arrogant than ever.

”You went that deep into the Dark Forest? Against my orders?”

Gavril pulled on his gauntlets of fine blue velvet st.i.tched to leather palms. He shrugged. ”When I hunt, I do not let my quarry go. Willingly.” ”There has been fighting reported on Nega lands,” Lord Odfrey said, ignoring Gavril's last remark. ”You take too many foolish risks. There will be no more of it. What if this eld had gone deeper into the Dark Forest? Would you have coursed him to its very center?”

”If necessary,” Gavril answered coolly. His eyes met Lord Odfrey's. ”I do not fear the dwarves.

Besides, we knew he would try to go east, and we kept him from it. I am not the fool you think me, my lord chevard.”

”Then obey the orders you are given.”

”It is your responsibility to keep me safe,” Gavril said. ”I shall do as I please. Your orders offend me.”

”Learn to be offended,” Lord Odfrey snapped. ”There will be no more adventures in the Dark Forest.

There will be no hunting of people on my land. If my huntsman has not told you this before, you know it now.” ”Is this wretch your serf?” Gavril said icily, pointing at Dain with his whip. ”We jumped him in the forest, beyond your boundaries, sir. If he is a monster of Nold, then he belongs to no one and should be fair game.” ”He's not an animal. He is not to be hunted,” Odfrey said. ”He's a thief and a nuisance. If the villagers see an eld lurking about their fields, they'll be-” ”The villagers and their superst.i.tions are my responsibility, not yours,” the chevard said with a snap. ”The day's hunt is over for you. Call in your dogs and take yourself back to the hold.”

Gavril stared at him as though he could not believe what had been said. ”You dismiss me?” he said, and his voice was almost a squeak. ”The hunt is for my pleasure. You cannot-” ”I can and I will,” Odfrey broke in. ”My word is law here. Take care you remember that.”

”I never forget any slight done me,” Gavril said, and his blue eyes were hot with resentment. He cast Dain a glare as though to blame him for this disgrace. ”You,” he said in a voice that cut. ”If I ever see you on Chevard Odfrey's lands, I shall feed you to my dogs.”

”If you set your dogs on another person, I will have them killed,” Odfrey said. The iron in his voice held heat now. His dark eyes burned in his weathered face. ”You would not dare,”

Gavril said, then faltered. His gaze s.h.i.+fted to his clenched hands. ”They are my property. Am I to blame if they prefer to take pagan scent? One animal is very like another.”

”That is the worst sign of your character yet shown to me.” Gavril blinked. ”When I came to Thirst Hold, you admired my dogs. No one in this region owns their equal. Their bloodlines are the best in-”

”There are many handsome things in this world,” the chevard said, ”but not all of them are good. I have said what I will do if you misuse your animals again in this fas.h.i.+on. You have lived under my roof long enough by now, Prince Gavril, to know that I keep my word. Do not force me to order them destroyed.”

Gavril sat his horse as though he'd been clouted hard but had not yet fallen. His gaze never left the chevard's face, but Dain watched his hands clench and unclench the reins. ”Well?” Odfrey asked. ”Am I clearly understood?” Gavril drew a sharp breath. Dain expected him to insult the chevard and gallop away, for that intent burned bright in Gavril's mind. But Gavril said, ”Your words are most clear to me, sir.”

”Good.”

”I hope, sir, that you will not find displeasure when I write to my father the king and tell him of this day's events.”

The chevard did not flinch. ”I have never feared the truth, or King Verence's sense of justice. He is always interested in hearing both sides of a matter. By all means write to him, but take care that you present the full truth. I am sure he will find your actions, and your motivations for them, greatly enlightening. Your letter can go in my next dispatch pouch.”

Gavril's gaze dropped. He wheeled his horse about and kicked it into a gallop.

As he rode away, he splashed water over Dain, who was too cold to care. Grateful to be free of the prince, Dain edged away a couple of steps, but the chevard's gaze swung to him and he stopped.

Now that it was just the two of them alone, some deep sadness appeared in Lord Odfrey's face. ”You are just his size,” he muttered as though to himself. ”That same way of standing. That same fearless turn of the head. What is your name, lad?”

”Dain.”

”You are far from the mountains of the eld folk.”

”I come from Nold. I am-was apprenticed to Jorb maker.” The chevard smiled, and his face transformed from a stern, stony countenance into one gentle and warm. The deep lines that bracketed his mouth were smoothed away. Crinkles fanned at the corners of his eyes. He looked younger when he smiled, far less formidable. ”Jorb, the old rascal. I carry one of his swords,” he said, indicating the weapon that hung from his belt. ”Yes, lord,” Dain said awkwardly. ”I saw.”

Odfrey's smile faded. ”But you say you were his apprentice. Not now? Has the trouble reached him too?”

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