Lyondri Hastur? Here in the monastery? Her first thought was of Orain and Dom Carlo; the second of their king. Quieting her thoughts carefully, she asked, “Is your father here now?”
“No, but he will come for the holiday, unless this weather should keep him housebound a day’s journey away,” the boy said, “and Father is never afraid of storms! He has some of the old Delleray Gift, he can work a little on the weather; you’ll see, Father will make it stop snowing before it is night.”
“That is a laran of which I have not heard,” Romilly said, keeping her voice steady, “Do you have it?”
“I don’t think so,” the child said, “I have never tried to use it. Here, let me fly Temperance while you take Diligence, will you?”
She handed the lure-line to the child, trying to conceal her agitation. Alaric, too, should be warned – or would he try to take vengeance on his enemy, whom he regarded as murderer of his wife and child? She could hardly make conversation with the little boy. And halfway through feeding the birds, she saw the door from the stables open and Orain came into the court. She tried to motion to him to withdraw, but he came into the courtyard, saying, “Not finished with the birds yet, my boy? Make haste, I want your company for an errand in the town,” and Caryl turned and saw him. His eyes widened a little.
“My lord,” he said, with a courtly little bow, “What are you doing here?”
Orain flinched, and for a moment did not answer. Then he said, “I have come here for sanctuary, lad, since I am no longer welcome at the court where your father rules the king. Will you give the alarm, then?”
“Certainly not,” said the boy with dignity, “Under the roof of Saint Valentine, even a condemned man must be safe, sir. All men are brothers who shelter here – this much the cristoforos have told me, Master Rumal, if you wish to go with your master, I will put the birds on their perches for you.”
“Thank you, but I can manage them,” said Romilly, and took Temperance on her fist; Caryl trailed her with the other bird on his two hands. He said in a whisper, “Did you know he was one of Carolin’s men? They are really not safe here.”
Romilly pretended gruffness and said, “I don’t ask questions about my betters. And you should run along to choir, Caryl.”
He bit his lip, flushing, and turned away, dashing barefoot through the snow. Romilly drew a long breath; she would have turned and spoken to Orain, but his hand closed with an iron grip on her shoulder.
“Not here,” he said. “Outside these walls; I am not sure, now, that they have not ears, and the ears are those of a certain lord.”
Silent, Romilly finished her work with the sentry-birds and followed Orain through the gates of the monastery. The street was white and silent, muffled with the thick snow. At last Orain said, “The Hastur-whelp?”
She nodded. After a moment she said in an undertone, pitching her voice so that Orain had to lean close to listen, “That’s not the worst of it. His father – Lyondri Hastur – is outside the city and will be visiting him for the holiday.”
Orain’s clenched fist drove into his other hand. “Damnnation! And Zandru knows, he’s not one to observe sanctuary-law! If he sets eyes-” Orain fell silent. “Why did Dom Carlo have to go away at this time of all times-” he said at last. “Ill-luck dogs us. I’ll try and get a message to him.”
Silence; even their footsteps were silent in the snow-muffled street. At last Orain said, dismissing it, “Let’s go down to the tavern. With such news as this I need a drink, and they have spiced cider in honor of the holiday, so you may drink too.”
Romilly said soberly, “Shouldn’t Alaric and the others be warned to watch themselves, if the Hastur-Lord is likely to be about?”
“I’ll pass a word to them,” Orain said, “But for now, no more talk.”
In the tavern where Orain had taught her, some days ago, to play at darts, he commanded wine, and hot cider for Romilly; it smelled sweet with spices, and she drank it gratefully and accepted his offer of a second mug. He said, “I have a gift for you – that filthy cloak you wear is hardly worthy of a stable-man’s son. I found this in a stall – it’s old and worn but suits you, I think.” He beckoned to the serving-woman, said “Bring me the bundle I left here yesterday.”