Yesterday's Kings by Angus Wells Page B

seduce her to some secret end? To find a way into her father’s castle, perhaps, so that he could bring others and they take the keep? Yet he had seemed entirely honest.There was about him some sense of integrity she’d known only in her father, or perhaps in the forester, Cullyn. It was not a thing she could properly define, only sense.
    So she decided to say nothing, and await the outcome.
    She shook Laurens awake, and sprang back as he came to his feet with his sword in hand.
    She was startled by his energy. He was on his feet with the blade up in defense, sunlight sparkling off the steel, the point angling at her belly, so swift she’d barely time to avoid the stroke.
    “Laurens!” she shouted.
    He lowered the blade, his face reddening as he recognized her.
    “Forgive me.” He sheathed the sword and ducked his head. “I must have fallen asleep.”
    “You did.” Abra waved a hand at the surrounding forest. “Who’d not, here?”
    “And you?” Laurens asked.
    “I slept, too,” she said. And lied, “I only just awoke.”
    “We’d best return,” he said, yawning.
    “Yes, I suppose we should.” Abra could still taste Lofantyl’s kiss. “I expect they’ll be wondering where we’ve been.”
    She waited as Laurens brought up their horses, and let him help her mount, then rode back to the keep, where she said nothing at all about her strange meeting.

    C ULLYN WAS PREPARING his supper when he heard Fey snort and the grubbing pigs squeal a warning. He left the stew to simmer and picked up the Durrym knife as he went to the door and flung it open. The sun was settingbehind the forest and the eastern sky was already dark, albeit pocked with stars and the bright shape of the risen moon, so that all his little yard was dappled with light and dancing shadows.
    From across the clearing before the cottage he heard a voice.
    “You took my gift, then?”
    “Lofantyl?”
    “Who else?”
    The Durrym came out of the shadows and Cullyn wished he might blend so well with the woodland. He watched as Lofantyl walked through the pigs—which no longer squealed—and went to where Fey stood watching. The Durrym stroked the stallion’s glossy nose and Fey ducked his head, as if in obeisance.
    “You’ve a fine horse.” Lofantyl came to the door. “Where did you find him?”
    “I bought him,” Cullyn said. “Not long ago.”
    “Bought?” asked Lofantyl.
    “Yes. I take deer from the forest and trade them—I earned some money, and—”
    “Money?”
    “Traded it for the horse. You don’t have money in Coim’na Drhu?”
    “No.” Lofantyl shook his head. “Are you going to invite me into your home?”
    Cullyn hesitated. This Durrym had already entered uninvited. But then again, he had left the gift of the knife; and Cullyn could not help liking him.
    He stepped aside, gesturing that Lofantyl enter. “Have you eaten?”
    Lofantyl shook his head.
    “Then eat with me.”
    “Thank you.” The Durrym stepped inside the cottage,staring around as if it were all new and marvelous to him. “That smells good.”
    Cullyn went to the stewpot. Lofantyl settled on a chair. “So tell me, what is money?”
    “Coin,” Cullyn said, thinking hard. “We decide that a deer is worth so much; a parcel of salt, so much; a loaf of bread, so much. We then decide that each thing is worth a certain amount of money, and trade in coin.”
    “Why not just trade?” Lofantyl asked. “A deer for so much salt and bread, and so on?”
    “Is that how you live?” Cullyn returned.
    “Don’t you?” Lofantyl replied.
    And Cullyn shrugged. “I suppose so; but I’m—”
    “Different?” Lofantyl grinned. “Like me, eh? Have you anything to drink?”
    “Yes,” Cullyn said, answering the first question. “It seems that folk believe I talk too much with fey folk.”
    “As my people believe of me. Now answer my other question.”
    “What question?” Cullyn stared at the Durrym, wondering if Lofantyl joked with him or tormented