The Duke's Ballad

IX

Shastro held his court not the next day but the next week. Kirion had worked hard delaying, suggesting additional points ordiscussion and soothing the fears of his duke and the courtiers. Keelan, Aisling, and Hadrann had assisted unobtrusively. The three of them agreed with Shastro’s plan to sort the inheritance of Ver-laine and Kars once and for all. Aisling said so to the duke when they talked two days after Franzo had departed with his army.

“Then you agree. You think it right that the succession be clarified?”

Aisling nodded. “I do, my Lord Duke. As to Verlaine, the girl held title through her mother, but she fled the responsibilities. Verlaine is a border keep. Karsten cannot risk having it held by one not committed to our country’s welfare.” Shastro was listening eagerly. Murna was so sensible, so intelligent. She was saying everything he believed and in words he could use when he spoke before his court.

“And what of Kars?” he asked eagerly.

“Now that is far different. The duke ruled; she was merely his duchess, and from all the evidence, the marriage was never consummated. That means that she was not legally his wife. Had she born a child to him that child would have ruled and she would have been its regent. However, with the duke dead, her marriage not ratified, and another holding the throne, then she could not have taken power—unless a convocation of the Kars council agreed that there was no other suited and that it was necessary for her to do so to reduce civil disorder.”

Shastro was all admiration, particularly as Murna was saying what he wanted to hear. “You are right. That’s so clear, so well said.” He drew himself up. “And so I intend to say to the council myself.” He drew her arm through his and walked slowly along the balcony. “With all that cleared up I can consider what to do next. I’m certain that Estcarp was behind the Coast Clan’s attempt to attack me.”

Aisling sighed. “That may be so, my Lord Duke, but it seems to me that our people can think up their own follies without assistance.” She allowed herself to frown a little. “And people agreed with the clan. All those coincidences. It was so very strange. Almost as if the witches were working against the clan. Could it be that they wished to divide you. To lose you the support of one of your strongest allies?”

Shastro gaped, then took the idea to his heart, momentarily forgetting that it had been he who had caused the Coast Clan most of its troubles. “Aye, indeed. That would be a witch trick.” He remembered then, but it would do very well to placate the clan who might well believe it. “By Cup and Flame! Yes. I shall send envoys to the clan at once. They must stand with me against the witches and their evil.” He patted her arm. “Thank you, my dear, your insight is always valuable. But I must go; a duke has many calls on his time.”

He was gone, sweeping hastily across the room and out of the door in search of Kirion. Aisling looked after him and hid a grin then a startled look as the latter portion of his words sank in. Yesterday Hadrann had said he wondered about Shastro, if the duke was becoming enmeshed in his own lies. To Aisling’s ear that last speech had held a ring of truth, as if the duke really had believed that the witches could have been responsible for the clan problems.

But Aisling knew that the clan deaths had been Kirion’s doing and surely at the Duke’s command. Hadn’t Shastro honestly known or was he rehearsing his speech to the council? Or could Hadrann have been right? Was Shastro becoming confused amongst all his lies and plots? She went in search of Keelan and her friend to discuss it.

Shastro had swept through the long corridors to Kirion’s tower. Once there he ignored the guards who dared not halt their duke and burst unceremoniously through the door. Kirion had been at work and was not pleased with the abrupt entrance of his duke, but he had to keep the fool happy. He listened, and once he’d heard it all, it was Kirion who wasn’t happy. Gods, the man was indeed losing his mind. He set out to delicately remind the duke that far from the witches being involved in the clan’s troubles it had been the duke who caused them or, rather, Kirion, at his duke’s command.

Shastro looked blank briefly then rallied. “Oh, yes, I know that but I mean that I shall give this as a possible explanation to the council.” He nodded to himself several times. “It makes good sense, does it not. They and the clan will believe it.” He beamed at his sorcerer. “Then I can attack Estcarp. They’ll all be behind me against the witches.”

Kirion stifled a moan. Dear gods, the man was obsessed. He bowed. “Let us first convince the council, my Lord Duke. Then with Verlaine and Kars rulerships cleared, we can make approaches to the clan. It may take a little while. Not all have your insight and understanding.” He watched as Shastro preened.

Not that it was a bad idea, Kirion thought. The Coast Clan was likely to accept it, at least enough of them to make peace between the clan and the throne almost a certainty. But Shastro could not be allowed to attack Estcarp with the full army of Karsten. Such an attack would have meant disaster. Apart from that, Kirion had no wish to find himself playing lone Karsten hero against the might of the massed witches of Estcarp. It had been the three times Horning that had started Karsten’s woes. It had lost the country most of its heal-ers, the effective ones anyhow. It had caused riots, started feuds and hatreds that in some places still continued. It had led to that stupid assault on Estcarp and its incredible defense, which had lost Karsten an army. Many of those in it would not have been missed, but it had weakened the country and divided it for too many years. Estcarp was bad luck. A prudent man left the witches alone, except that Shastro wasn’t prudent. He intended to thrust a stick into an ant’s nest and stir vigorously. Being Shastro he’d then be surprised and furious when the ants rushed out to bite.

Kirion considered. Let them get this council done, then the clan’s ruffled feathers smoothed down. He could see that both events were slowed. Give Shastro time to lose the edge of his fears; time for him to work on the duke and suggest caution in this matter. Maybe, too, Kirion could plant evidence suggesting it had been witches still in hiding here who were causing strife. He might use that to obtain a few more of the part-bloods for his own purposes.

His “bandits’” quiet little raids along the northern border had already netted him a sample or two from Estcarp, none with true power but all of the Old Blood. He’d gained something from each person taken. After the council and the clan matter he’d find a way of keeping the duke quiet awhile. If he did that the fool might let this attack idea rest. If not then they could make a few minor forays against Estcarp’s outermost defenses. Kirion could make them sound far more than they were.

Shastro was tugging at his arm. “Well, Kirion. Don’t you think we should show them we weren’t fooled?”

“Of course, my Lord Duke.” How the man loved that title, Kirion mused. You could see his chest expand every time it was used. “But first the council. You must not allow enemies to distract you; that might be their fell purpose. To prevent you from clarifying the succession of keep and Kars or from making peace with the clan.”

“Of course, of course. They shall not succeed. I’ll have the council convened as soon as possible, all the most learned judges. I myself shall address them on the subject. While I have them assembled, there are a few other matters I shall discuss. I must have a list written down so that I remember every point I wish to make.”

Resisting the desire to tell him to run away and play with his quills then, Kirion agreed. He only hoped Shastro’s speech would be effective.

To his mild surprise it was. The duke used Aisling’s arguments with force, and the council saw the sense in them that Shastro had seen earlier. He received a standing ovation; the laws passed in record time and with no dissent. Envoys went almost immediately to discuss some of the implications with the Coast Clan.

But shortly before they left a man arrived at the court to speak to the Aranskeep heir. Hadrann listened, dismissed the man, and sent his valet for Aisling and Keelan.

“Let’s take a ride. It’s a lovely day.”

Keelan stared out to where the late fall rain hammered sullenly on streaming roofs. He looked at Hadrann wondering if he were drunk, then caught the warning in his friend’s glare.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that.” Keelan grinned. “But I’d like to get out into fresh air. We could take my carriage. We could even visit old Geavon for a couple of days.”

Aisling nodded. “That would be pleasant. It won’t take more than an hour to pack. Geavon has most items we would need. Wind Dancer can come if he likes.”

Two hours later they clattered downstairs, laughing, talking about the need for fresh air, and generally letting those about them know what they planned. Wind Dancer was curled along Aisling’s shoulders. With the horses harnessed, Keelan’s man driving, Had-rann’s six hired guards and their captain riding after the carriage, and the city left behind, the three were free to talk in safety.

Strangely Hadrann had chosen to circle and drive to the north-east once they were clear of the main Kars gate. Aisling and Keelan trusted him and said nothing even when they headed in that direction. Wind Dancer did not care anyway; he was comfortable in Ais-ling’s lap and content to nap. It seemed Geavon’s keep was not their objective. Keelan and Aisling would have to wait to see what was. If they stayed on this road they would eventually reach the turnoff to Jam’s Trevalyn keep, a good place to talk privately.

Here, where the Turning had wrung out mountains, magic was altered. Used from farther away to probe toward them, it would be blurred. Kirion would know that. Aisling looked out of the window. Her hands moved in slow passes as she laid wards about the carriage. Kirion could scry all he wished. He’d see and hear little but three people chatting about the weather, the council, and the hope of clan peace. And if that seeing and hearing was blurred or vanished at times, well, Kirion knew that all this area was something of a blind spot for scrying. She turned to look at the two waiting.

“We’re safe. Now, Rann, what did you have to tell us?”

“A message came from Hilarion. Escore has made a large advance in driving evil from the land. One of the Estcarp witches died, but in doing so she has empowered the Light. The Darkness falls back. There is increasing traffic between the two lands. Estcarp is also strengthened, and increasingly they resent Karsten’s attacks on them. Hilarion has read runes and omens. With many settlers from Estcarp in Escore there comes great danger. If Karsten is foolish enough to attack Estcarp openly with a strong force the runes say that both lands may combine.”

Aisling stared down at the plank floor of their carriage considering that. Then she raised her head to meet Hadrann’s gaze. “I fear he could be right. Many of the new settlers in Escore come from Estcarp. Many of those were families of the Old Blood driven from Karsten and never to find a true home again. If Karsten attacks across Estcarp’s border, such people not only would wish to assist Estcarp but also in the back of their minds hope to return. If Karsten were very badly beaten they might be safe to return and take up their ancestral holdings once more.”

Keelan gave a grunt of disapproval. “That would be folly; the wounds are still there. Many of their neighbors took what they left. They wouldn’t give it back after so many years, and others innocent of wrongdoing or bloodshed bought the abandoned keeps and garths. Are they to be flung out penniless? Two wrongs will not make a right.”

“That I know,” Hadrann told him. “I have no solution, only Hi-larion’s message. Escore and Estcarp grow stronger and closer linked. If Shastro attacks, then Shastro will lose—and all our land with him. However, if we stay within our borders, then they have no reason to do aught but leave us be. They’d prefer that.”

Keelan snorted. “Of course they would. They are two to our one. If they have time to grow strong they can turn to rend us at their leisure.”

Aisling stared. “Keelan, my brother. You forget we are of their blood. When have we ever attacked merely to steal land. I lived three years in Escore. I spoke often to those from Estcarp. They do not wish to drown us again in blood.”

“Maybe not. But I’m sure they wouldn’t mind a little blood if they could recover all they lost. They’re people too, Aisling. Not saints just because they have the power and the Old Blood.” He turned to the silent Hadrann. “What do you say?”

“I say that if you, who should know better, think this way, then many who know less will already be fearing it. But tell me, Keelan. Think back to all the history between the lands that you have ever heard. How many times have we attacked Estcarp, and how many times have they attacked us. Who always began the wars?”

Keelan sighed. “I know. It was Karsten that was the aggressor, but maybe Estcarp grows tired of that. And if they do and this other land aids them, then we could be crushed. I know we have the Old Blood, but this is my land and I love it. I would rather stay here and die than desert it to die without me.”

“And we all work to see no land must die,” Aisling snapped. She turned to Hadrann. “Was that all the message?”

“No. There have been a couple of minor raids on Estcarp’s border where it meets the sea toward their south keep. Farms have been burned and all those there murdered save for a couple of their people each time. Those seem to have been taken away to Karsten. No scrying can find them, so they are believed dead.”

“Kirion?”

“Likely enough, but worse still. It seems that from the second farm a witch was taken, a sixteen-year-old girl on her first visit to kinfolk since her departure to be trained. Hilarion knows little more save that she is now missing, taken, they believe. The raid was only a few days gone, and she may still be alive. It is asked that if we meet her we aid her if we can. They know it’s not likely, but she’s almost a child still, only just trained, and they grieve for what may be happening to her.”

All three shuddered. “We can guess,” Aisling said in a low voice. “If Kirion has her, the girl’s death will be neither easy nor slow. Could the messenger tell us anything of how much time has elapsed? When was she taken?”

“A week ago,” Hadrann said, “but they had soldiers in the area who rode to cover the border at once.” He looked at them. “If those who took her were Kirion’s creatures, then they must bring her back alive and undamaged. For that they must move slowly and carefully. I believe they may have circled southeast toward this area. I spent an hour wringing out all the messenger knew, then I studied maps. I think it likely they’ll try to come back past Trevalyn keep. Jarn might like to hear about this, don’t you think?”

Keelan grinned. “Jarn doesn’t like Shastro and he loathes Kirion.

I think he’d be happy to help us foil any of their plans, if that was why we drove this way. I’d wondered.”

“He’s your cousin.”

“Sort of. Old Geavon is grandfather’s third or fourth cousin I think. Jam is his grandnephew. Aisling has never met him but 1 have. I liked the man. He’s sensible, a hard worker, and he isn’t against the Old Blood. His great love is his estate, his own lands, and his family and their name. He’s the sort who would rather work his land and live in peace, not that he always gets that. This area has become dangerous with bandits again.”

Hadrann looked thoughtful. “So if we all arrive at his keep even unexpectedly, we’d be welcomed?”

“With the best he has, which may not be saying much.”

“Still, we’d be welcome.” Hadrann thrust his head through the window and gave orders. The carriage lurched on its springs as it turned into the narrower rougher road leading upward. Wind Dancer opened one eye to complain of the bumps before going back to sleep. The horses settled into their traces to pull harder against the steepening slope.

“We should be at Trevalyn before nightfall. Once we’re there we shall go hunting. We’ll split up into three groups. We’ll hunt and shoot all over the whole area. Bring back deer, duck, anything edible for the table. It’s a good excuse, and as long as we do bring back something most days, no one will question it,” Hadrann continued.

“What about me,” Aisling queried. “Am I myself or cousin Murna? I’ll have to stay as Murna, I know. Our guards would ask too many questions otherwise. But do we tell Jam?”

Keelan considered. “I say we keep quiet. Tell him if anything goes wrong and we must, but apart from that we say nothing. The fewer people who know a secret the fewer there are who can betray it, even by accident.”

“That’s sensible. Very well.”

The carriage lurched upward. Within the jerking vehicle Aisling felt a sudden warmth against her breast. The hidden pendant was warning her but of what? She opened her mouth to speak. Behind the carriage the hired guard were riding slowly on the rutted track. One halted his horse and gaped down, then he dismounted hastily. His companion saw and then he too was off his horse, scooping up the small coins. Why, there must be a week’s pay here in lesser silvers and coppers dropped by some careless fool. The guard captain turned to find all of his six men groveling in the dust.

“What… ?” An arrow took him in the chest, but the captain was an old soldier and knew his duty. With his dying breath he screamed a warning. His men too were experienced. Three fell to arrows, but the other three took cover. Ahead, Keelan’s driver recognized the danger. He swung the carriage horses up and behind an outcrop of stone. They halted obediently as the driver fell hurriedly from his exposed perch. He thrust his head through the window and explained to his master in a frantic gabble.

Keelan listened. “I see. How many of the guard are dead?”

“Three at least, Lord Keelan, and the captain. Others of them may be wounded.”

“Did you see any of our attackers?” The man denied it. He did not explain he hadn’t looked—he’d been too busy—but Keelan understood. “Good man. You did the right thing. I want you to keep a lookout. Watch where the guards went to cover and keep a sharp eye out for any of our attackers. I must talk with my friends.”

Aisling was waiting outside the carriage with Hadrann as Keelan returned. “If I sit on the floor of the carriage where I can’t be seen, I may be able to read them. I should be able to tell you their numbers. Maybe something of their plans.”

“Do it,” Hadrann ordered.

Aisling slipped cautiously back into the vehicle. Wind Dancer greeted her with a thrust of his head against her cheek. She smiled, hugged him gently, then sat down on the carriage floor. She slid into a comfortable pose, shut her eyes, raised her hand to cup the hidden pendant, and easily found the trance Hilarion had taught her.

The pendant’s mists welcomed her back. She moved through them as they swirled, then she opened her mind a crack. Thunder roared, deafening her, but within the sounds had been emotion, maybe words. She crafted a light shield and opened her mind once more. Yes, emotions, terror, disgust, horror, nausea.

She touched them very lightly. A warning. They faded to be replaced with a query. *Who?*

*Half-friend, maybe. Who?*

*One taken by evil men for an evil purpose. They seek now your carriage to bear me more quickly to that end. Aid in the Light’s name.*

Automatically Aisling gave the reply to that. *Aid in the name of the Light shall be given.* Then she knew. She must talk with the others swiftly.

She reached again. *I have friends here, but also some who would recognize you and be a danger. Give me time to speak to them all.*

*There is a little time, but hurry.*

Aisling half-fell from the carriage, grabbing Keelan. “Kee, that’s Kirion’s men out there. They want our carriage so they can get their prisoner to Kirion.”

“Pris—They have the witch?”

“Yes. Kee, she’s only a girl and she’s terrified. We have to save her. You know what Kirion will do to her.”

Both men scowled. They knew. There was one easy way to disarm a witch of her powers. Kirion would find great pleasure in it. Both he and Shastro had done so before. And as it happened it would break her wards, allowing Kirion to leech her power. As a trained witch with her witch jewel she could bring him power enough to make him almost invincible in Kars. Aisling felt sick. She could not allow it to happen. They had to rescue the girl, but how? She left her brother and Rann discussing it and retreated to the carriage again.

*I am here. Is there any way you can aid us?*

*None. I am bound and gagged. Oh, please…*

Aisling wavered. Should she tell the girl. *Do you know where you’ve been taken and why?*

*To the death of all I am, better I die clean. Sister, I beg you.*

If she did not know all of it she knew enough. *Is there any way I can slay you mind to mind?*

She felt fear, then a firming of the girl’s resolve. *Those older and better trained can stop their own heart.* Her voice in Aisling’s mind was bitter. *It is something our kind have had to learn, but I am not yet trained in that. If I were free I could slay myself.*

*If you were free you could slay them* Aisling sent.

*Yes. Maybe if I open my mind completely you could stop my heart for me?*

*Not yet. There is hope of freedom. I will speak to my friends.* She paused to reach out and count. Nine men with the girl, and Aisling had her two companions, the driver, and three guards left—bad odds. But then the bandits would not expect nobles to fight when they had guards and servants to die for them. They believed the odds to be far better. She returned to Hadrann just as a gurgling screech rang out. Rann grinned cheerfully. One gone.

“What, how? Kee… where’s Keelan?”

“Evening our odds a little. Kirion’s bandits aren’t that good. Maybe they sneak about, kidnap girls, and burn garths very well, but they aren’t trained the way Keelan was trained.”

Aisling reached out with her gift, then jerked her mind away. A man had died, a second was gone even as she touched. There was panic among the others of the enemy remaining. She felt Keelan.

His concentration shut her out, but she could feel the competence. He’d learned well from old Hannion and Harran in the past six years. Since then he’d been an excellent stalker and hunter. Now he used his knowledge on other more dangerous game. Hadrann had strung his bow. He slid around the edge of the rock and waited.

Aisling took up her own lighter weapon reluctantly. An arrow was nocked and held ready as she watched from another rock edge. If the bandits had discounted her companions in the carriage, they’d have doubly ignored her. She’d give them reason to recall her if there was no other choice. One of the enemy was made careless by the sounds of his comrades. His companions were dying although they were hidden from those in the carriage.

Other enemies must be behind them. Perhaps Estcarp’s borderers had found them. He knew of those ones. They had a reputation in Kars as being utterly deadly. In attempting to see the new and unknown enemies he was seen by Aisling. She held her shot until she felt she must let the arrow fly for the sake of those with her, then she loosed it, closing her mind tightly as she did so. There had been nine against seven. Now there were six. They had hope.