Cry of Sorrow Read Online Free Page B

supposed death of his family. And so Anieron’s compassion will be his undoing. Isn’t that so, Jonas?”
    Jonas, unable to meet Aergol’s dark eyes, stared at the floor, nodding slowly. “Yes,” he whispered.
    “Very well,” Havgan said crisply. “Anieron calls Jonas to him. What then?”
    “Then,” Sledda went on, “he will receive his assignment. He will beg to be sent back to Gwynedd, to Rhos, which borders on Eyri, to a place where, for a time, he was happy. We believe that Anieron will send him to the place where Queen Morrigan and her people hide, which we know to be in Eyri. After he leaves Anieron, Jonas will contact us, leaving a message at a prearranged place, which will tell us where the Master Bard is hiding.”
    “A shade risky, don’t you think?” Sigerric pointed out. “Jonas may very well not contact you at all. Wouldn’t it be better to follow him to the hidden headquarters?”
    “Better, but inadvisable, as you yourself pointed out not long ago,” Sledda replied. “We must not give ourselves away too soon. We want Jonas to be well on his way to Morrigan’s camp before we move in on the Master Bard and the Ardewin. And you seem to forget that Jonas has a powerful reason to tell us what we want to know. His wife and daughter, remember.”
    Sigerric stirred uneasily in his chair, but said nothing. At this Jonas raised his head. “I need your promise, General Sigerric, that when this is done, my wife and daughter will be restored to me.”
    “My promise?” Sigerric asked in surprise. “Why mine?”
    “It is known throughout Kymru that you are a warrior of honor. So I must have your word.”
    “Lord Havgan’s word would, I think, be—”
    “No,” Jonas said firmly. “Your word.”
    Havgan waited calmly. The rest might be—and were—tense and uncertain, but Havgan knew what Sigerric would do.
    Slowly, Sigerric said, “I promise that, when your task is done, you will be with your wife and daughter.”
    Jonas bowed his head, and Sledda led him from the room, handing the Bard over to the guards at the door. Sledda returned to his seat, saying, “Well, Sigerric, I suppose I must thank you for that.”
    “I didn’t do it for you,” Sigerric said harshly.
    “Sigerric,” Havgan began, “my friend—”
    Suddenly, shockingly, Sigerric laughed. It was a bitter, dark sound.
    “Sigerric!” Havgan cried, gripping his friend’s arm, capturing Sigerric’s dark eyes with his own hawklike gaze. Slowly, Sigerric’s laughter tapered off.
    “Perhaps,” Eadwig said hesitantly, “it would be best if the General got some rest.”
    “Rest?” Sigerric asked softly. “Rest? Oh, no, I wouldn’t miss a moment of this. I must see every step my Lord takes into the arms of Sceadu, the Great Shadow. I’ve been watching since the beginning. Longer than any of you. Why stop now?”
    Havgan’s face darkened alarmingly, and his eyes flashed fire. But before he could speak, Eadwig said passionately, “Lord Sigerric, we do what we must do for the glory of the One God! Better for some to die than for all the Kymri to lose their souls. Lytir commands the death of the witches. Did he not speak so to Lord Havgan long ago?”
    “Something did,” Sigerric muttered. He laughed again, weaker this time. “Never mind about me. Let’s hear the end of our plots to bring the Y Dawnus down.”
    “Lord Havgan,” Sledda broke in. “I respectfully request that General Sigerric retire. Or do you think such a man—a man who laughs at you, who seeks to thwart Holy Lytir’s will—can be trusted?”
    Without even bothering to look at Sledda, without even taking his eyes from Sigerric’s tormented face, Havgan replied softly, “You will never again, wyrce-jaga, suggest to me that Sigerric cannot be trusted. Unless, of course, you wish to lose your other eye. General Sigerric stays.”
    Once again, the men were silent, waiting for Havgan’s commands. At last, Havgan turned to Cathbad. “Archdruid, it is