Alun had no knack for it. His overlarge feet kept getting tangled, and he didn’t know when to let a lady twirl, and twice he imagined that he was supposed to twirl, too. He heard some fellow laugh, and Alun’s face grew red as he realized that a great deal of the problem had to do with the fact that he was falling-down drunk.
He stopped dancing then, and Siyaddah gave him a warm smile. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s only your first dance. You’ll catch on.”
And then the tense moment was over and she was moving again, and he was content to prance and watch her twirl. There was light in her eyes, and laughter, and light in her hair. It seemed to sparkle, until he realized that she had a powder in her hair, a powder made from diamonds, he imagined.
“Congratulations,” she said at last, “this is a great day for you. You should be proud-Master of the Hounds.”
He liked the sound of that, coming from her lips. But it reminded him. He had not gone to the kennels yet tonight. He had several bitches ready to whelp, and he really thought that he should go check on them. It was a good time of year to be Master of the Hounds, with the puppies coming.
“We’re expecting new litters soon. Hart’s Breath, she should have her first litter tonight or tomorrow. Do you remember her?” Siyaddah had played with her as a pup, not more than two years ago.
Siyaddah shook her head no.
Of course she doesn’t remember, Alun thought. She played with so many pups. She didn’t know their names. You are such a fool, he told himself.
Embarrassed, he quit talking. It was time for Siyaddah to twirl again.
She looked lovely, so dainty. Her dark skin, almost chocolate in color, contrasted sharply with her white silks. And beneath the silks, he could see the shapely contours of her body.
That is the whole reason for the dance, he realized, to allow young bachelors like himself to ogle the maidens.
“Tell me,” Siyaddah asked, “what great deed did you do to deserve such an honor, being raised to the warrior clan?”
Cold fear ran through his veins, and Alun found that his tongue would not work. He did not want to tell her what he had done. “Oh, nothing,” Alun said.
He hoped that she had not heard the truth yet. He hoped that she would never hear.
“Was it for spying upon Daylan Hammer?” she asked.
“I…yes,” he admitted. He stuttered to a stop for a moment and then continued prancing.
“And tell me,” Siyaddah said, “how was that brave?”
She thinks I’m a fake, Alun thought. She knows I’m a fake.
“It is thought…that he killed Sir Croft.”
“And did he?” Siyaddah asked playfully, but Alun discerned more than playfulness in her voice. There was a bit of a challenge to her tone. There was a smile on her face and light in her eyes. She was not trying to show disrespect toward Alun. But it was obvious that she thought well of Daylan Hammer, that she doubted his guilt.
“I don’t believe so,” Alun whispered, lest anyone overhear.
She flashed him a brief smile. “Your view conflicts with countless others,” she said. “There are some who are calling for Daylan’s head, claiming that there can be no good reason that he would be meeting with the enemy. They say that questioning would do no good, for he would surely lie. Others think that he should be allowed to defend himself. I…find it hard to believe that he is in league with the enemy.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Alun said.
“Still, it required no less bravery on your part to follow him, to take the risk,” Siyaddah said.
Was it bravery, Alun wondered, or greed?
“And he did meet with a wyrmling?” she asked.
“Most assuredly.”
“That must have been frightening,” she said.
Not very. I was hiding, Alun thought.
“To what end did they meet? I wonder,” she said.
Alun stopped dancing. His heart was hammering and he suddenly felt over-warm. All of the rich food felt as if it was turning to a ball of grease in his stomach. He feared he would retch.
“Sometimes,” Siyaddah said gently, without condemnation, “it takes great courage to do what is right.”
Alun turned and fled, bumping into dancers, hurrying from the great hall. He raced outside, stood gasping for air as he leaned against a pillar.
Does she know? he wondered. Does she know why Daylan Hammer met with the enemy-risked his own life, his own honor to meet with them? Or does she only guess?
She only guesses, Alun decided. If she knew, she would have told me. But she believes him to be a man of virtue.
It was said that Daylan Hammer ate at the High King’s table. Siyaddah would have been in range to hear his jokes, or his songs when he took the lute. She would know his heart better than Alun did. She was a sensitive woman, and perhaps had come to know Daylan better than others around him.
Perhaps she’s even in love with him.
No, that can’t be, Alun thought. He is too small and strange, too different from us.
Alun went staggering to the kennels.
Back to the dogs, where I belong, he thought.
There, he found things much as he had suspected. Hart’s Breath had gone into labor and given birth to a pup, and had that frightened look that bitches get when they deliver their first. What is wrong with me? Hart’s Breath’s body language asked as she puttered about, her hips quivering, eyes wide as she sniffed at the pup. What is that black thing squirming on the floor?
Alun stayed with her, stroking her forehead and whispering words of comfort, while she continued to deliver. He held up each newborn for her to sniff, introduced the pups by complimenting her. “Ah, you’re such a good dog,” he would say as she licked each pup, “such a good mother. And look how pretty your babies are.”
Soon, she wagged her tail at the sight of each new birth, proud of her offspring, and when Alun left her there late at night, she was happiest hound in the world.
He was weary and nearly sober when he made his way back to the King’s Keep. The feast was long over, the tables cleared, the servants gone to bed. Two guards stood outside the door and barred his way.
“I need to speak with King Urstone,” Alun said at their challenge.
“At this hour?” one asked. “Regarding what?”
Distantly, from up above, Alun heard a man sobbing, the sound faint and distant as it came through an open window. The king sobbing in his chambers as he mourned.
“It concerns a plan to save his son,” Alun said.
They did not send a messenger to ask the king if he wanted to be disturbed. The guards looked at each other, and one of them grabbed Alun by the bicep and pulled him into the keep as if he’d just apprehended a thief.
Alun found himself shivering in terror. He was about to tell the king of Daylan Hammer’s mad plot to save his son.
Warlord Madoc will have me stripped of my office when he finds out what I’ve done, Alun thought.
IN THE COLDEST HOUR
There are those who criticized High King Urstone for his weak mind, but it was never his mind that failed him. Rather, it was his great love that brought him down.
An hour before dawn, the coldest hour of the night, the Wizard Sisel went to the High King’s door with Shaun
