Deerkin reddened but, “I did not know Peladine was in the cat,” he insisted. “Yes, I knew she had been bonded with the mistcat. But Peladine was dead. I thought the cat alone, and put her odd ways down to her mourning. What else could be done with the cat? She could not make her own way in the hills; she had never lived a wild life. And so I took her to the Bresingas, a gift fit for a prince. I thought it possible,” and a hitch in his voice betrayed him, “that she might want to bond again. She had that right, if she so chose. But when the Prince came to us, I thought it was what Laudwine said it was. That he came of his own will, to learn our ways. Do you think I would have helped otherwise, do you think Arno would have sacrificed his life for such an end?”
Some, I think, must have doubted his story as much as I did. But it was not a time for such accusations. All let it pass and he continued his tale.
“Arno and I rode with Laudwine and the Piebalds, as escort for the Prince. We intended to take him to Sefferswood, where he could live among the Piebalds and learn our ways. So Laudwine told us. When Arno was taken at Hallerby outside the Piebald Prince, we knew we had to ride for our lives. I hated to leave him, but it was what we had sworn as Piebalds: that each of us would sacrifice our life for the others as needed. My heart was full of fury when we first turned and set our ambush for the cowards that chased us. I do not regret a single one of those deaths. Arno was my brother! Then we rode on, and when next we came to a good place, Laudwine once more left me to guard the trail. 'Stop them,' he told me. 'If it takes your life to do it, so be it.' And I agreed with him.”
He paused in his narrative and his eyes sought Laurel. “I swear I did not recognize you, cousin. Not even when my arrow stood in you did I know you. All I could think was to kill all those who had helped to kill Arno. Not until Badgerlock dragged me from the tree and I looked up at you did I realize what I had done. Shed more of my own family's blood.” He swallowed and suddenly fell silent.
“I forgive you.” Laurel's voice was soft but carrying. She looked at the gathered Old Bloods. “Let all here witness that. Deerkin hurt me unknowingly, and I forgive him. There is no debt of vengeance or reparation between us. At the time, I knew none of this. All I could think was that, because I lacked the magic you possessed, you had marked me as fit to kill.” A laugh twisted from her throat. “Only when Badgerlock was brutalizing you did I realize that . . . that it didn't matter.” She suddenly turned to look at him. Shamefaced, Deerkin still forced himself to meet her earnest gaze. “You are my cousin, and my blood,” she asserted softly. “What we share far outweighs our differences. I feared he would kill you, trying to get you to speak. And I knew that, despite what you had done, even regardless of my loyalty to the Queen, I could not let that happen. So I rose in the night while Lord Golden and his man were sleeping, and spirited my cousin away.” She transferred her gaze to Lord Golden. “Earlier, you had told me I must trust you when you excluded me from the confidences you shared with Badgerlock. I decided I had the right to demand the same from you. So I left you sleeping, and did what thought best to save my Prince.”
Lord Golden bowed bis head for a moment, and then nodded to her gravely.
Deerkin rubbed a hand across his eyes. He spoke as if he had not even heard her words to Lord Golden. “You are wrong, Laurel. I owe you a debt, and I will never forget it. When we were children, we were never kind to you when you came to visit your mother's kin. We always excluded you. Even your own brother called you the mole, blind and tunneling where we ran free and wise. And I had shot you. I had no right to expect any help from you. But you came to me. You saved my life.”
Laurel's voice was stiff. “Arno,” she said. “I did it for Arno. He was as blind and deaf as I was to this 'family' magic that excluded us. He alone was my playmate when I visited. But he loved you, always, and in the end he thought you worth his life.” She shook her head. “I would not have let his death be for nothing.”
Together, they had crept away from the cave that night. She had convinced him that the taking of Prince Dutiful could only bring harsh persecution down on the Old Blood, and demanded that he find elders powerful enough to demand Laudwine surrender him. Queen Kettricken, she reminded him, had already spoken out against those who lynched the Witted. Would he turn that Queen, the first who had taken their part in generations, against them? Laurel had convinced Deerkin that, as Piebalds had stolen the Prince, so the Old Blood must return him. It was the only reparation they could make.
