The Duke's Ballad

XIX

In a small room off the ducal suite Shastro faced his sorcerer. His face was twisted in fear and rage, his eyes determined. Kirion had scried. The results had not been good, even less so when he drained the last power from a captive and used the results to push for a reading on the besieger’s terms. The duke had heard them with terror, and fear in Shastro always became rage. The greater the fear the hotter the fury burned. Now he faced Kirion and shouted.

“Do it again. You must have got it wrong.”

Kirion was cold. His wagon was hitched to a fading star, and he was wondering how he could disengage. “I am unable to do so. It required great power and the power supply is… gone.” He looked down and prodded the body with a casual foot.

“I’ll get you more then. I’ll order my men out into the low quarter. You can direct the sweep, take as many of the Old Blood as you like and can find, but get rid of that clan.”

“I’m not a miracle worker,” Kirion snapped. “I can’t just wave my hands and make an army evaporate. It takes work and power to do anything at all. I’m learning all the time; I can do things I could not manage months ago. The power is getting harder to find though. And without huge amounts I can’t do more than harass that bunch across our gates. If your useless lot had found me real power, some-one of the almost pure blood. Or got over-mountain into Estcarp and brought me back a witch.”

His tones became exasperated. “It’s like pulling a wagon, Shastro. You yourself can’t haul one even loaded lightly. It takes a horse. More load, more horses. I need power to haul the load you demand.” He eyed his red-faced sweating Lord. A slight sneer colored his voice. “And it’s no use shouting at me either just because you’re scared. This is a realm where being a duke gains you nothing.”

He knew as the last words left his mouth that he’d gone too far. He was exhausted from the morning’s work or he wouldn’t have made that slip. Shastro was fanatical about receiving the respect due his rank. Kirion had always been careful to provide it, though in appearance only. He had no genuine respect for either the rank or the man. But it kept the relationship on a smooth basis. Of all the times to lose his temper, he thought as he watched the duke react.

He hastily smoothed his voice, dredging up the last scraps of his power to inflect his tones. “I speak only as others would, my Lord Duke. You yourself in your wisdom once commended me that I spoke always the truth to you.” Shastro hadn’t, but if he believed it was wisdom to have done so, he’d remember it. Shastro was good at changing his memories to suit his self-image. Kirion’s voice became sweetened cream pouring from a jug.

“We must work together, my Lord Duke. You with your rank and power, the many men who look to you for orders. And I who serve you in my own humble way. Get me power sources, and I shall strain every nerve to strike down your enemies. At the least, be the power sufficient, I may be able to spirit you away.” He couldn’t do that, but he could always blame his inability on Shastro’s men by claiming the power needed was greater. It was their fault if they hadn’t found enough sources of the power Kirion required. In truth such a spell was beyond him at present.

He wondered if Shastro could find any of the purer blood.

Kirion was starting to suspect the duke had his own schemes. Kirion’s man amongst the pseudobandits had reported they had a girl from Estcarp they believed a witch. Then silence. Nothing, no word until that Aranskeep pup had reported an attack by bandits. Then he’d produced, to Kirion’s bewilderment, trinkets Shastro had recognized. Since then the duke had eyed his sorcerer oddly. Kirion would have given a lot to be sure in what direction the duke’s thoughts went. And more still to know about the trinkets.

It was true his false-bandit leader had been involved with the death and disappearance of the duke’s kin, but Kirion could not believe the man had been stupid enough to have retained items from the girl. And where had she gone in any case? Could his man have played him false and let her escape? But Kirion would have known. He could swear the fool had been as baffled as he at her vanishment.

Shastro was calming. He moved away, fingering some of the items Kirion had been using. His eyes, if the sorcerer had seen them, would have shown a thoughtful look. The duke had never been quite the fool Kirion assumed. He was weak, pleasure loving, and his darker delights ruled him strongly. Nor was he clever. But he’d survived by cunning over the years until Kirion had aided him to a throne. He glanced at his sorcerer from the corner of one eye. It was almost time he rid himself of this arrogant witch.

Yes, let the army at the gates be driven away, and Kirion could be felled by a silent knife. Choose a time when his powers were exhausted, send in several men with orders to fail at peril of their family’s lives, and Kirion would die. It might even be necessary to do it before the departure of the clans out there. He could claim all the evil deeds done in Kars had been committed by the sorcerer without Shastro’s knowledge. That once the duke realized how he’d been used, he had struck back to preserve his innocent people’s honor.

A singularly nasty smile lit his hidden face for a moment. Franzo was an honorable man. He’d swallow every word. Now, Shastro would leave this dreamer of power and see some further source was found. He turned, a penitent look pasted across his features.

“My dear Kirion, I understand. We are all on edge with this damnable siege. Do you prepare while I order up soldiers for your sweep of the low quarter. Do your best, and I shall accept it gratefully.” He swept out leaving Kirion to eye his departure with speculation.

Shastro never forgot hasty words or an injury. Kirion was being used and he disliked the idea. Maybe it was time the duke stepped down. His lord had been very slightly different toward him ever since that business of the trinkets. Family—they were usually a nuisance in one way or another. Shastro’s hangers-on had been no better: the boy always wanting his cousin to be kinder to his subjects, protesting the usage of those Kirion took to drain.

And the girl was a danger. She’d had too much influence over her cousin. As long as she was about Shastro would take no other woman to wife, and Kirion had it in mind to breed a dynasty. With heirs to Kars’s dukedom Shastro would not be required further. Kirion would continue as lord advisor, consolidate his influence over the heirs until he ruled in all but name. It was better that way. Let his figureheads be targets. He looked after Shastro. He’d failed there. Perhaps it was time to reconsider and select a new duke. The old one could be tossed to the Coast Clan as a sacrifice to deflect their demands for both master and man.

Outside Shastro strode along the passage. He was met by Had-rann, who bowed low. “My dear Lord. I have a confession I must make to you.”

“Come then, sit and drink with me, and I’ll hear it. I’m no priestess but I dare swear my penance would be more welcome.” In better humor Shastro led the way to his rooms. He liked young Had-rann, and the lad’s father had large lands and much power amongst other keep lords. He listened to the tale and nodded indulgently. It fitted well with his new decision. Franzo should see that the duke of Kars had been gravely deceived by his advisor. Undeceived, the duke would put all right.

He leaned forward. “You once knew the commander, you say? He was in some small way a friend of yours? Would you then bear him a message from me?”

Hadrann hid his surprise. “I would, my Lord Duke.”

Shastro finished his glass, poured another, and drank it as he thought. It confused an enemy if you did as he wanted before he asked. Kirion’s scrying had revealed that the clan was preparing an ultimatum. They’d demand the bodies, living or otherwise, of the duke and his advisor to be delivered up to them. They would wreak what they’d consider justice on the two. Then they would aid the city in choosing a new ruler before disbanding.

But if Shastro made the first advance, offering to deliver up the evil sorcerer who’d spelled him into much of what had been done, then Franzo might just accept the claim as truth and be content with Kirion. But Shastro must stall once initial contact had been made. His advisor had genuine power and was a dangerous man. It would take time to prepare an ambush that would not backfire on the duke.

He smiled. “I thank you for your confession, Lord Hadrann. Your penance shall be to bear a message as I have said.” He allowed his mouth to droop in distress. “I fear I may have been gravely deceived by one I trusted. But you I can trust to help me put things right. Be at my private room tonight. I shall have a letter for you and a safe-conduct from the city.” He rose, tossing back the last of his wine. Hadrann stood obediently, understanding that the audience was over.

“At what hour shall I wait on you, my Lord Duke?”

“Midnight.” Shastro’s eyes gleamed in a flickering wicked mirth. “A very suitable time. Until then, go, and speak of this to none.”

“At your command, Lord.”

Hadrann got himself out of the room in haste. He could hardly wait to reach Aisling and Keelan. Something was up, and he’d gotten the impression that it concerned Kirion as well as whatever plot Shastro was hatching. He swept his friends up from a game of fox and geese. His manner was casual, but both felt his urgency and came without discussion. With all safe in the Aranskeep rooms Hadrann checked the corridor. No one in sight. He shut the door and dropped the bar across it.

The other two kept silence, but their attention sharpened. “Sit,” Hadrann ordered softly. “Aisling, have Wind Dancer listen for any spy within the walls, we want no listeners for this.”

He saw her gaze turn to Wind Dancer. The cat’s head came up, and his attention focused on the wall behind which the secret passage ran.

Aisling nodded. “All’s clear so far. He will alert me if he hears anyone approaching.”

“Good. Now, as you know I was to attend Shastro as soon as possible to tell him of the escape of those we aided. He had something else on his mind. He took my confession as if I’d mentioned that I like grapes. Then all of a sudden it was as if I’d brought him a gift. Listen, this is what he said.”

He recounted the conversation, carefully watching their faces. Keelan was frowning as he considered the words. Aisling was serene, but Hadrann knew under that serenity her mind would be checking, adding, measuring intent, and making leaps of intuition based on her understanding of her brother and the duke. She was so sensible, so wise, so… Hadrann’s mind made its own leap. So sweet, and he loved her. He’d always loved her, he suddenly realized. From the day they met.

He’d have her to wife or die unwed. He forced the realization from his mind. Now was not the time to speak of it or even to think on it too much. They had deadly plans to carry out. They might not survive them, nor would Aisling be pleased to be distracted. He crushed the ache in his heart as he looked at her. She must not fail, nor must she die. His body between her and death, his love a shield. He forced back his thoughts and concentrated on the raging discussion again.

“For Gunnora’s sake, Aisling. We can’t know, I agree. But it sounds to me as if Shastro might be going to surrender.”

Aisling snorted vigorously. “Shastro? His idea of surrender is to offer someone else—” She broke off, and they stared at one another. Aisling spoke in a small voice. “Someone else, yes. Like his sorcerer. His dear advisor, who could be blamed for everything.”

Hadrann picked that up. “I told him how kindly Franzo had received those who fled. He started wondering perhaps if Franzo would believe that Shastro had been fooled. But why now?”

“Because,” Aisling said slowly, “I could feel the Dark power being used last night. Maybe Kirion was scrying the army’s plans. What if those plans included a demand to be made very soon? Wouldn’t it be good to preempt that. To make first another offer?” She looked at them. “But we don’t have to sit about wondering. If we have everything prepared, if Hadrann moves fast, we can read the letter before it leaves with him for the camp.”

“A risk,” Keelan commented.

“No, I can shield the power use, and the power needed to read a short letter without unsealing the envelope isn’t great. However it’s a delicate spell, and not something I can use more than once or twice without either exhausting myself or risking Kirion’s picking up the emanations.”

The men looked at each other then back at Aisling. “Get everything ready,” Hadrann said at last. “I’ll bring the letter back as soon as I have it but to the Aiskeep rooms, not here. If Shastro has that reported and questions me I’ll say I asked to borrow Keelan’s mount for a ride in the city. Mine is lame.”

“I regret the necessity, but he will be after Aisling has paid him a visit. She’ll mention it to me over dinner.”

Aisling nodded. “I can plait a hinder cord. I’ll leave it on while I fuss with my own beast. Then have your beast led out into the street to be trotted up and down. All shall see he’s lame. I’ll give orders for him to be treated, remove the cord, and he will be well again by tomorrow. But if any of Shastro’s spies come asking, there’ll have been a lot of witnesses.”

“And I shall go down to see for myself after the meal. I’ll hear some of them, agree I can’t use the horse, and seek Keelan.”

“Who won’t be found until after you have Shastro’s letter,” Keelan added cheerfully.

The plan, as plans occasionally do, worked out. A quarter can-dlemark after midnight Hadrann was watching Aisling as she held the letter in slender hands. Her eyes were blanked as she concentrated. The scent of herbs caressed the room. Power tingled gently. Then she began to speak. It was a brief letter, the words of a man feeling his way cautiously, but the intent, the approach was clear.

Shastro was gravely distressed. After the last aborted siege he had been bothered by a feeling that the clan might have honest grievances. He had begun inquiries. He’d been forced to move secretly since the man he suspected was his friend, his trusted advisor, and had power of his own. But at last it seemed that he was finding out unwelcome truths. He had been deceived, tricked, and used. Evil deeds of which he’d known nothing had been done in his name.

Did Franzo wonder, the letter continued, that the clan had been denied justice? A duke relied on those about him. If Shastro had erred, if death and sorrow had been brought down upon the clan it had not been his doing but the scheming of another who would take power once the duke was deposed. It had all been a monstrous plot against them both. They were to destroy each other, and the plotter would take power in the ruins.

The letter was couched in obscurities. It never spoke clearly or named the one suspected. It did not have to. Those listening understood every word as would the man to whom it was addressed. He might even believe it. The three knew better, and did not. Aisling let the letter fall from her hands. She lay back against Keelan’s arm. Hadrann stopped to pick up the still-sealed note.

“I’ll likely be two or three candlemarks. Sleep a little if you can. I’ll come here when I return.”

Keelan was assisting his sister to stand. “No, better we go to the house. Meet us there once you’ve returned and attended the duke.”

“Very well.” He took Aisling’s hand in his own and held it briefly. Her gaze rose to his. “Take care, cousin,” he said. His voice harsh from the emotion he was suppressing. “I would not wish to see you in danger.”

Aisling looked into his eyes. Without intent her mind reached out to sense the emotions he was so clearly feeling. Not fear for himself, not anger at Shastro’s lies. No, his mind held only warmth, love, desire, and a terrible fear for her. That they should die and never have time to touch.

She spoke then, not from the surface of her mind, which was wrenched with surprise that he should feel as she did, but from the deeper instincts that rose to her need.

“By Cup and Flame go you forth. By Cup and Flame come you back. Fire’s heat hold you safe. Wine give you strength to return. And until you lay hand in mine once more I hold Cup and Flame in my heart.”

It was the ancient oath, given to a warrior as he rode on a quest. It meant love and remembrance no matter how long he should be gone. In a few of the older keeps there were shrines to a warrior who had rid-den away and never returned. Given by a woman unwed and free, it was an oath of another kind. Love and remembrance, yes, but also a promise that if the warrior returned he would be a welcomed suitor.

Hadrann heard it with incredulous joy. His hand closed with crushing force on Aisling’s ringers enveloped in his. He said nothing, but his eyes held hers, half in fear, half in wild hope. She gave him a small comradely grin and nodded. He said nothing, released her, took up his cloak, and left. But the grin he now wore threatened the stability of his ears. Behind him Aisling massaged her ill-treated fingers. Keelan laid an arm about her shoulder.

“I would like another brother, and you’ve chosen me the best I could ever have, dear sister. But ‘cousin Murna’ will have to walk wary.”

Her returned grin was half rueful. “I know. Too many know Hadrann’s honor. He’d never take a kinswoman as a lover, nor would his father countenance his marriage to a woman who is close kin and penniless. Until this matter is resolved we shall have to be content with words and the touch of hands. Yet I could not let him go without so much as I could give.”

Her eyes were wide. “He loves me, Kee. I knew it when he took my hand. He feared for me if this siege goes awry.”

Keelan snorted. “For Gunnora’s sake, girl. I’ve known he cared for you for months, even if he didn’t. And if the siege breaks Kars, I’ll take care of you. I’ll have you safe into our cellars if I must drag you there. Now, stop fluttering and get ready. We want to be away to our house quickly just in case Shastro turns up asking why Rann called on me and why you’re here alone with one who isn’t kin and no woman to company you.”

They rode quietly along dark streets. Their three guards flanked them looking menacingly into not always empty shadows. Kars alleys after dark had oft been dangerous. With the siege and the growing shortness of food and money to buy it, the nightlife had become lethal to many. Few would risk three guards and a noble who rode with a sword at the ready, but soon they would. Desperation was a stink in the air that all who rode in this small group could recognize.

Hadrann rejoined his friends at the third hour after midnight. He had nothing to report save that Franzo had received him with friendship then gone aside with his captains to read the letter. Some time later Franzo had returned with a letter for Hadrann to take to the duke. It had seemed wiser to return directly to Shastro with it. The mood of Franzo and his men had seemed to be one of cautious optimism.

In other words, as Keelan summed it up, “Franzo’s nibbling the bait, but our duke will have to offer something more than a scent on a hook to get a bite.”

“Shastro is playing his cards against both sides,” Hadrann said soberly. “I was delayed on my return. Soldiers are sweeping the low quarter, and I’m sure I caught a glimpse of Kirion with them.”

Aisling shuddered. “Gunnora preserve those they take. When Kirion starts his next power-working I’ll scry to see what he and Shastro are planning.”

“And for now, let us to our beds,” her brother added. “Has anyone seen Wind Dancer?”

Aisling smiled. “He’s hunting. There are fat field mice in the grass, and he says he must do his share to save our supplies. The truth is he likes field mice.” She looked worried. “But he says that a servant tried to catch him in the palace yesterday. Shastro has forbidden the cook to give scraps or leftovers to them. He says that he must pay for what he eats, and they shall do likewise. He’s ignoring that they haven’t the coin to eat more than once a day now that prices are so high.”

Hadrann nodded. “So they’ll catch and eat anything they can. Cat is acceptable now. Soon it will be rats, and finally their own dead. By the time that happens the city may rise against Shastro, more quickly if they hear what the clan may be offering. I caught a few words. Aisling was right. They’d originally intended to halt the siege if they were given the duke and his advisor. Let that news be known about the city and Shastro may be sitting in a frying pan on a fire. Stay where he is and fry slow. Leap and burn faster. And the people of Kars will be adding fuel.”

In that he was correct. Franzo and his captains had considered the letter. Their reply had suggested that Kirion be sent as an envoy to prove the duke’s good faith. The army would be responsible for taking and holding the sorcerer once he arrived.

Kirion had rejected any idea of being an envoy when the subject was broached. The duke wrote back to report failure. Franzo thought the problem understandable and offered another idea. Open the gates and allow the army to enter, solely to capture their quarry.

This time it was Shastro who rejected the plan. He wasn’t opening any gates to allow any armies to stream in, for whatever purpose they had in mind initially. Purposes changed. They weren’t going to change in his direction. Within Kars food was scarce now at merchant level. The poorest folk were desperate. Hadrann moved between their rented house and the Aranskeep suite at the palace, but Aisling and Keelan had chosen two days earlier to move permanently to the estate. They still returned regularly to dine with Shastro and to be seen at court in the evenings, but now they always slept behind their own walls.

No one bar a few servants realized that as yet; all three of them had left clothing and some personal possessions in the suite. But both men felt it would be safer for her if Aisling was out the palace, and where she went, Wind Dancer went too.

In the dungeons Kirion held scores of those with the merest trace of the Old Blood. He was working, or so he believed, a spell that would bring Shastro wholly under his sway. With the duke obeying his every word, Kirion would have him confess to crimes, absolve his advisor, and then commit suicide in expiation before the people. The Coast Clan Army would accept that and leave quietly.

Then Kirion could choose another suitable man and begin the long careful work of raising him to be the new duke of Kars. It was all a nuisance, but these things happened. He soothed his anger at events by continuing to send sweet dreams to Varnar. His servant was so amusing. The fool really believed his dreams of a small happy family waiting for him somewhere. What pleasure it would be to reveal the truth when the time came.

Hadrann rode back and forth between their rented estate, the duke’s palace, and Franzo’s army. Summer had been and gone, and the fall was almost over. Soon it would be the full chill of winter, and if times had been hard for the poor before, they would be thrice as hard once the cold closed in.

Originally the anger of the people had been directed against the army that besieged them. Gradually that had changed. Now it was the duke’s men they hated with their gaze as the soldiers clattered by. Kirion had demanded and been given a second sweep of the low quarter. He’d returned with few and with several dead soldiers. The human rats of the low quarter, backs to the wall, had fought. Shastro refused to order a third sweep.

On their rented estate Aisling encouraged the geese to sleep along the bottom of the wall furthest from the house. There too she had placed wards with care. They were shielded from Kirion’s observation, which took more power. Yet it was essential he not be able to find traces of her gift. The working had been done very slowly, built up layer by layer as she recovered her strength each morning.

Her work was not done with the brute powers Kirion used to smash home like flung stones but with delicate interweaving that was added little by little. The wards would warn, waking any of the three if intruders tried to enter. They proved their worth the night of the first food riot, when true winter came to the low quarter.