The Sworn (36 page)

“You’ve met Donelan before, when I was sick. Is he that fearsome?”

Rhosyn’s eyes were wide. “He’s the king, isn’t he? That’s plenty fearsome.”

Cam squeezed her hand. “I’m glad it didn’t scare you off.”

Rhosyn tossed her head. “Takes more than the king to scare me away from you, Cam of Cairnrach. I’m made of sterner stuff than that!”

Just then, the door opened and Donelan swept into the
room. Despite her protestations a moment before, Rhosyn paled enough that Cam feared she might swoon. Donelan seemed oblivious. Behind Donelan trailed Allestyr, the seneschal. Rhistiart stepped back, and Cam knew that the silversmith probably would have found an excuse to bolt from the room had Cam not expressly asked that he stay as a witness.

“We’ve got a roomful of guests ready for a banquet downstairs,” Donelan said. “Let’s get you two married so there’s even more reason to celebrate.” He peered at Rhosyn as if it were the first time he had looked closely at her. “Let me see you, girl.” Rhosyn was trembling, but she put on a good face and stepped forward. Donelan stroked his chin.

“I assume that you’ve seen this great ox when he’s well into his cups,” Donelan said. “I’d hate to think you didn’t know what you were getting into.”

Rhosyn drew a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “I’ve helped him stagger into the guest room to sleep off many a feast night, and on occasion, I’ve heard him sing and lived to tell about it. There’s no one who’ll do but him.”

Donelan nodded and looked at Cam. “She’s got enough fire in her belly to keep you in line, m’boy,” he said, and Cam heard the humor beneath Donelan’s sober expression. “She just might finish what Carina started and make you presentable after all.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take, Your Majesty,” Cam replied.

Donelan clapped them both on the shoulder. His huge hand nearly staggered Rhosyn, but she managed to keep her feet. “Excellent. Well then, let’s get on with
it.” Allestyr handed an ermine stole to Donelan, as Cam and Rhosyn clasped their right hands together, facing one another. Donelan wrapped the stole four times around their hands. A large pendant of the dragon seal of Isencroft hung from a heavy chain around Donelan’s neck. He raised the pendant and touched it to his lips, and then removed the chain and draped it over the stole.

“Cam of Cairnrach, Lord of Brunnfen, and Rhosyn, daughter of Elkhart of the Brewers Guild. Be it known that from this day on, you are joined as man and wife by order of Donelan, King of Isencroft, witnessed this day by Allestyr and Rhistiart. May your days be long and may all the faces of the Lady smile upon you.” Donelan reclaimed his pendant and unwound the mantle from around their hands. Only then did Cam realize he had been holding his breath.

Donelan leaned forward and planted a kiss on Rhosyn’s cheek before the astonished girl had the chance to react. The king turned to Cam with a rakish grin. “There’s time before the cook brings out the venison and the banquet gets under way for the two of you to greet each other properly. Do me proud and have a baby on the way before we’re off to war.”

With that, Donelan was gone, striding from the room without a backward glance. Allestyr followed, and Rhistiart paused just before he left the room. “I took the liberty of having the servants tidy up Cam’s room to suit a lady’s sensibilities,” he said.

Rhosyn grinned, and punched Cam jokingly on the arm. “What ladies have you been having up to your room?”

Rhistiart glanced from Rhosyn to Cam, not sure whether the misunderstanding was deliberate. “M’lady, I readied his room with you in mind—”

Cam and Rhosyn both laughed, and Rhistiart relaxed, fleeing with a chagrined look on his face.

“Don’t go getting ideas that I’m going to be one of those fancy court ladies,” Rhosyn teased. “I’m from good, solid, common stock, and not ashamed of it.”

Cam wrapped his arm around Rhosyn’s waist. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

By eleventh bells, the feast was ready to begin. Cam was impressed by Allestyr’s ability to put such a gathering together on short notice. Then again, Cam realized, it was the night before the Moon Feast, and Allestyr would have had nearly everything ready for the holiday. Cam squeezed Rhosyn’s hand to reassure her as they entered. A cry went up from Wilym and the Veigonn in greeting, which was echoed by the guests, all of whom Cam recognized. He glanced at Rhosyn. Cam knew her well enough to know that the attention unsettled her, but Rhosyn had years of experience with crowds at the tavern. She squared her shoulders and smiled, and although she was nervous, the smile was genuine.

“A toast to Cam, Lord of Brunnfen, King’s Champion, and his bride Rhosyn!” Wilym made the toast, raising his tankard high. Voices echoed the toast, adding ribald comments and shouting well wishes. One of the servants ran to fill goblets for both Cam and Rhosyn. Out of the corner of his eye, Cam spotted Rhistiart busily helping Allestyr and looking like he’d been managing palace events all his life.

“To Cam and his lady! Hear, hear!”

Musicians struck up a lively tune, and Rhosyn began to sway to the music as she sipped her ale. A burly man with
wild, red hair shouldered his way through the crowd. He was broad-shouldered and wide-chested, with strong arms and hands broadened by work. Tonight, he wore a jacket of dark green brocade with puffed sleeves and gilt trim, and it took Cam a moment to recognize Elkhart, Rhosyn’s father, since he had never in all his years seen the brewer dressed for court.

“Cam, Rhosyn, the Lady’s blessings on you!” Elkhart said. He slapped Cam on the back hard enough to slosh the ale in Cam’s tankard. “It’s good to see you up and about, m’lad,” he said with an appraising glance. “Last I’d heard, you looked as if you’d been ridden over by a tinker’s caravan!”

Cam grinned ruefully. “I would have been in better shape had it only been a tinker’s caravan. But thanks to the king’s battle healer, Trygve, and my sister, Carina, they patched the worst of it up right.”

Elkhart glanced down at Cam’s feet. “Looks like you kept the leg, thank Chenne for that.”

Cam nodded. “I understand I put both Trygve’s and Carina’s healing to the test. It’s good to be back.” He slipped his arm around Rhosyn’s shoulders.

Elkhart looked at Rhosyn, and the burly man teared up. “You’re a beauty to rival any at court in that dress, my dear.” He sniffed back tears as Rhosyn beamed. Elkhart looked up at Cam worriedly. “It’s not true what I hear, that there may be war, is it?”

Cam shifted uneasily, and Rhosyn looked to him with an expression that mirrored Elkhart’s concern. “There’s a threat from the north coming that we can’t afford to ignore. But I pray to the Lady that nothing comes of it, or that we put it right quickly.”

Elkhart nodded. “That’s how it goes, isn’t it? Ah, well. Tonight, we celebrate.” He managed a smile, although this time, it did not entirely reach his eyes. “Eat. Drink. Make merry. You deserve this night.” He glanced over his shoulder to where the ale was being poured, and was suddenly all business. “Wouldn’t do to run out of ale at the king’s celebration, would it?” He kissed Rhosyn on the cheek and ambled off through the crowd, already giving orders to the men from the brewery.

“Moon Feast at Aberponte is one of my favorites,” Cam said, steering Rhosyn through the partygoers to where a groaning board of food awaited. The scent of roasted venison, mutton, and duck filled the room, along with the delicious aroma of onions, leeks, and parsnips. Pies, cobblers, and trifles filled the air with the smell of baked apples, raisins, and rum sauce. Cam sighed. There was much he enjoyed about being the King’s Champion, and the palace food was worth every bit of danger he endured.

He steered Rhosyn to a balcony. “Look there,” he said, pointing. Bonfires flared in the courtyard, sending flames high into the night sky. Lanterns in the shape of the moon’s phases hung from trees and from cords strung back and forth across the open space. In the center of the courtyard, a large figure of a man made from dried cornstalks and tree branches blazed. The air was sweet with the smell of incense to the Sacred Lady and of ritual herbs rising on the smoke. Festivalgoers carried candle-lit lanterns on poles in the shape of the phases of the moon. The night sky was filled with paper lanterns lifted into the air by a fire within that carried them up to the clouds, and with them, the prayers of the people who released the lantern kites to the heavens.

“Tomorrow, there’ll be jousting all day. We get to sit in the king’s box to watch. I guarantee we’ll have the best seats!”

Rhosyn laughed. “And are you one of the jousters?”

Cam shook his head. “I’m a foot soldier at heart, not cavalry. Wilym will joust as the King’s Favorite. I can fight on horseback, but I much prefer to have the ground under my feet.”

Along one side, eight women in white robes filed into the courtyard. The crowd parted like water for them.

“Who are they?” Rhosyn murmured in an awed voice.

Cam’s eyes widened. “The Oracle and her attendants. This is very unusual. She doesn’t come to the palace. Kings go to her.” He touched Rhosyn’s sleeve. “Let’s go back inside. We’ll know why the Oracle is here soon enough.”

They had just filled their plates when trumpet fanfare blared from the doorway. King Donelan swept into the room, attended by two members of the Veigonn and half a dozen pages and retainers. He stopped in the center of the room as the crowd quieted.

“Good Gentles, all,” Donelan boomed. His voice filled the room and his force of personality assured that he had everyone’s full attention. “Tonight we thank the Lady, Mother, Childe, Lover, and especially our patron, the Warrior Chenne, for the harvest to be gathered.” One of his aides pressed a tankard into his right hand and a fresh loaf of bread into his left.

“We thank Her for the wine and ale that sustain us through the winter, and for the bread that feeds us. And we thank our Lady Chenne for the bounty of the hunters and the victory of the warriors. All praise to the Lady!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd and tankards rose into the air in salute. Donelan smiled, pleased with the crowd and the evening. But as quickly as the cheers had risen, the room suddenly fell silent as the white-cowled figures appeared in the doorway. Donelan turned slowly, and his eyes widened to see the newcomers.

“My lady Oracle,” Donelan said, bowing. Everyone in the room also bowed. A few fell to their knees. The faces of the Oracle and her acolytes were hidden beneath their cowls. The Oracle moved to the front as her entourage parted.

“Donelan, son of Jendran, grandson of Talith, I bear a message from Our Lady Chenne.”

Donelan took a step forward and spread his hands in a gesture of supplication. “M’lady, we did not anticipate the honor of your presence. I have no gift for you.”

“The Lady desires no gift save your understanding.” The Oracle’s voice was clear, but if there was a face beneath the cowl, it was lost in shadow.

“Do you desire a private place to give your message? Is it for all to hear?”

“This is a true saying, one that touches all of Isencroft,” the Oracle replied. “All may hear it.”

“Speak, m’lady, and I will listen.”

Even though the Oracle’s face was hidden beneath her cowl, Cam had the feeling that Donelan’s deference pleased her. Cam had heard Donelan express his doubts about the Oracle’s wisdom on more than one occasion. Donelan was a man who preferred action and plain-spokenness. The Oracle’s pronouncements were often vague and open to interpretation, making it difficult to take decisive action.

“Harsh winds blow from the north. Fire burns the edge of the sea. Old graves spill forth their bones and souls are torn from the Lady’s embrace. Hear us, son of Jendran. Crowns will fall, and scepters pass to untested hands. All that has been will change. A War of Unmaking is now upon us. Even She of the Amber Eyes cannot see its end.”

Donelan hesitated for a moment, and then did something Cam did not expect. The proud king knelt stiffly and bowed his head. “Oracle of My Lady Chenne, if I have displeased my goddess, then let Her vengeance fall on me and me alone. Do not bring a War of Unmaking on the Winter Kingdoms.”

The Oracle glided closer to Donelan and laid her hand on his head. Or rather, something under her long, wide sleeve rested on the king’s crown. No part of the body beneath the robe was exposed to view, and Cam shuddered, wondering whether or not the Oracle was even human.

“You have well pleased My Lady. The fault lies not in you, or in the crowns of Her kingdoms. There is a current, swift and cold, and it bears all away in its depths. As the moon moves through her phases, so our times move from full to dark. I bear the message that darkness rises. But take heart, Donelan, son of Jendran, darkness also passes.”

With that, the Oracle and her entourage turned and left as swiftly and silently as they had come. Donelan rose, and for a moment, before his studied expression slipped back into place, Cam met Donelan’s eyes and saw something there he had never seen before. Fear.

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, I need you to bear a message for me.”

Aidane gathered her cloak around her. It was autumn, and there was a nip in the air. The chill she felt at the moment had little to do with the weather. “I’m not taking clients,” Aidane replied to the ghost that spoke to her from the edge of the forest. Something had drawn Aidane to wander away from their camp, and now she knew that it had been the spirit who called her. But after her last, nearly fatal assignation, Aidane was more than happy to comply with Jolie’s edict that, on the road, none of the girls would take customers, so that the group could travel without incident.