by Andre Norton
“True, well, never mind.” Tarnoor reached for the reins of his own horse as it was led to him. “Let’s go!”
A dozen riders clattered out of the gates and off down the road at a steady canter. Tarnoor glanced over them. Hanion had chosen well. Veterans to a man, they wouldn’t act too hastily. He might need that quality if Tylar’s sons appeared before Aiskeep had been and gone again. Trovagh rode beside him on a fresh horse; the boy might well be of help, Tarnoor thought. Trovagh had run all over the garth with young Ciara. He’d know most of the hiding places there. He scanned the countryside as they rode. No sign of Tylar’s lads fortunately. But it had been three days. One of them would think of Elmsgarth sooner or later. That was why Tarnoor had chosen to return at once.
It took hours, until at length Tarnoor ordered torches to be lit. The two wains were filled, heaped high, with more items lashed onto the outside. The sheep had long since been found and started on their trek to Aiskeep. It had been Trovagh who, as Tarnoor had foreseen had been of most use in finding things.
“The horses always hole up in the willows down by the stream if they’re left out.”
He’d been correct. Four of the strong farm beasts were there along with the saddle horse Larian had been riding. There, too, was the sensible middle-aged mare Lanlia had always ridden. All of the beasts looked well and came willingly to Trovagh’s call.
“Good, lad, get them to the stables. Tell Hanion to have the team harnessed. It’ll give us another wain.”
Trovagh vanished to pass on the order, then vanished again on his own behalf. He returned leading two female goats, both almost whimpering in their desire to be milked. Hanion grinned down at him.
“Well, that’s fine.” He glanced over at the men. “Erek, you came from a farm, do what you can for this pair, then put them in the wain.” It was almost moonhigh before all was loaded. Tarnoor took his son aside.
“Two things. Can you think of anything else Ciara would wish to have before we leave? Do you know of any hiding places within the garth where valuables might be kept?”
Trovagh nodded. “Cee has a hidey-hole in her room. I don’t think there’s anything valuable there but she’d like to have the things, I think. And there’s one in her parents’ room, too. Cee showed me once. It’s a secret that even she wasn’t supposed to know.”
“Show me the secret one first, then take a sack and clear out the one in Ciara’s room for her.”
He was interested to find just how secret the first had been. To open it one had to stand on a stool and swing on a beam. It was clever. At first glance the beam was no more than a roof beam. But with weight dragging at it, one could see that the beam only touched the roof, and it was not attached. Beside him a panel slid open. He studied the hidden contents. Several wooden boxes, one small, the others larger. He opened the first to discover deeds to the land, family papers, and a small bag of gold and silver coins. Talyo’s fallback money no doubt, he thought. Best not to waste time checking everything else. He’d just have the lot removed to the wain. He yelled for a couple of his men.
It was almost dawn before the last items were gathered in. The men were tired but pleased with themselves at cheating Tylar’s kin from their loot. All had known the family at Elmsgarth. There were few who had not at sometime or another availed themselves of Lanlia’s healcraft. As soon as the road was sufficiently light they moved out. The garth wain rumbled along in their midst. Tarnoor smiled to himself. He had the deeds to the land. With those he could legally register his own name as owner. He would have that done at once, but quietly. If one of Tylar’s sons settled, he could be tossed off at anytime. Not that there was any hurry.
He grinned again. The land was too far from the Keep to bother working. But if someone settled here he would wait. Once they’d established themselves he’d offer to sell them the land complete with deeds. That would be more money for the girl. It also gave him control of who settled there as a neighbor It had been an exhausting, but very fruitful day. He slouched back in his saddle. Trovagh’s pony was being led from the wain. The boy himself was fast asleep on a pile of bedding atop the load. Yes, indeed. A good day. He’d acquired the daughter he’d always wanted as well as his son. Found the right to choose a neighbor, and raised himself even higher in his son’s eyes.
A rider galloped back from the road ahead. “Lord, there’s a rabble approaching. Tylar’s sons lead. They’ve wagons and pack ponies.”
Tarnoor acted. Most of his men had served as soldiers in their younger days. He’d kept up the training. He heeled his mount to the head of the line, chose thick brush, and signaled them to leave the road. He added the signals to keep the horses silent, and to make no move until ordered. Everyone was under cover by the time the would-be looters passed. Tarnoor considered them, a motley lot. That miserable garthsman from farther north, a neighbor of Tylar’s. The man spent more time drinking than farming, Tylar’s four brawling sons, and a sprinkling of others who hoped to profit. Half of them still looked drunk, the rest miserably hungover.
He exchanged looks with Hanion. The would-be looters wouldn’t be at all happy to find someone had been before them. It could be a good idea to throw them off the trail if possible. The longer it took for them to learn the truth, the safer Ciara would be. He motioned Hanion close and talked busily, the Armsmaster nodding back at intervals. Once the road was clear Tarnoor emerged. The wain trundled on its way with an escort of half the men. Tarnoor, Hanion, and four of the Keep guard rode at a slow walk back toward Elmsgarth.
They caught up with the group ahead just as they reached the turn into the valley. Tarnoor was at his most bluff and heartily ignorant. “What’s this, a drinking party so early? Has someone married?”
Tylar’s oldest son answered after a swift glance around. “No, Lord. We heard that Elmsgarth had been attacked. We go to see.”
“Ah. That is good, that is right. To help a neighbor who may be in trouble. I, too, have regard for Mistress Lanlia and the family. I shall ride with you.”
His small group hid grins with difficulty as they watched the boy struggle with having to tell a lord he wasn’t wanted.
“Um, no need, sir, my lord. We wouldn’t want to take you out of your way.”
“Nonsense. Good friends, good neighbors. Only right. Besides, there may be bodies to be buried. Can’t have them around stinking up the garth. Not right, no, no.”
“But, my lord . . .”
“Now then, any more and you’ll have me thinking we aren’t of use.”
The boy pasted a patently false smile on his face. “Oh, no, my lord. You do us honor.”
“Good, lad. Don’t worry, we won’t interfere with your work. You get on and help the family. Mend anything broken, yes? Dig any graves if they’re needed. I’m just here as lord to see what has happened.”
He reined his horse back a little. He and his Master at Arms exchanged glances. Both were having trouble keeping straight faces at the miserable looks ahead of them. The group had come to loot and be rich, not to dig holes, and mend fences. They were unhappily aware that under Tarnoor’s eye they might have to do just that.
“Well, Hanion?”
“Very well, my lord. I’d say they suspect nothing.”
Tarnoor nodded. The harder part would come when they reached the garth. That they did very shortly. The scruffy group ahead gaped in fury at the neat graves to one side of the house. They scattered, shouts and cries revealing their dashed hopes. Tarnoor dismounted to examine the graves. He’d left no sign as to who had buried his friends. He bowed his head for a moment praying they rested in peace. Tylar’s son dashed up to him.
“My lord, someone has been here already. The house is stripped.”
He met raised eyebrows. “So? It may be that some of the family survived. They may have departed with their goods to seek a place where thieves do not come in the night.”
He watched as the lad opened his mouth to refute most of that, then almost bit his tongue off to keep
silence. Tarnoor nodded kindly. “One should not jump to conclusions,” he said pompously. “I daresay Talyo will let us know what he wishes. Until then, let no one think to claim his land too hastily.”
The young man facing him was all but chewing his tongue to shreds at this. How could he tell the lord that Talyo would let no one know anything ever again. He spoke cautiously.
“Um, my lord, has no word come to you from the Kars guard?”
“I have been traveling. What word?”
“The Old Race was thrice-horned by Duke Yvian, my lord. I fear that Elmsgarth may have been attacked by those . . .” He spluttered to a halt. Well, no, Tarnoor thought. You can’t very well explain it was your father who led the murderers here to make a profit. Or that you are here now to take anything you can lever up. Your kind envy anyone with more. You’d use any excuse, this horning was just convenient. Aloud he spoke casually.
“Well, in that case I think you may remove anything you find. Property or beasts. But do not damage the house. It may be of use to whomever settles the land.” He saw that thought sink in. Good. The house would be safe. “Nor would I seek to seize the land too hastily. It is possible the duke will have plans for it. He has friends at court who are landless.”
That was no more than the truth, too. There were always a crowd of eager, money-hungry hangers-on at the duke’s feet. He’d ridden with Yvian when they were both young. None of this smacked of him. If his courtiers were money-hungry, Yvian had been power-hungry. Tarnoor had backed him when the duke first ascended the throne in Kars. Not because he liked Yvian, so much as Karsten needed a stronger hand just then. Yvian had that. He had appetites, too. But they were ones his people understood. What had gone wrong to drive the duke to all this? It was utter folly but too late to mend. Tarnoor would keep his head well down until he knew the worst. Meanwhile he would look to his own defenses.
He stared out across the garth. It was quite possible Yvian would gift the land to one of his hangers-on. Or some toady of his mistress, Aldis. He’d met the lady once and would put little past her. Perhaps this was some ploy of hers? He turned to the lad again.
“There seems nothing I should do here. Should you find anything you believe I should hear about, send word.” The boy nodded, a faint smugness coating his look. He’d tell his lord nothing. If they found anything it would be theirs. Not that there was likely to be anything. Some sneaking thief had been before them all, curse him. They’d bide their time. If no one came to claim the land in a year or two, he’d take it. This had been a larger, more fertile farm than Sersgarth. Let his next brother take that. The other two could lay claim to a smaller place now also unoccupied to the north of them. They’d been there in time all right.
He licked his lips at memories of three days past. His father had come here to die. His sons had gone elsewhere and it had been others who died. His share would help to refurbish Elmsgarth again. He could at least graze the stolen beasts here. He sketched a bow to his lord and hurried away. If anyone did find anything he would not be cheated out of his share. Tarnoor gazed after him in disgust before signaling his men to close ranks. They cantered off down the road and were some distance away before Hanion spoke.
“I think they have no suspicions.”
“No. The boy’s too busy cursing over lost loot to suspect us. He thinks that I came there for the same reason. Well enough. But, Hanion, keep still the tongues in your men’s heads. It’s likely most of this will blow over. But in case it does not, I don’t want that cat’s leavings to know the child lives, or that it is Aiskeep that has his plunder.”
“No, Lord.”
Tarnoor left it at that. Hanion had been with him all of their lives. He was solidly reliable. Full of common sense and born at Aiskeep, the son of the man who had been Master at Arms to Tarnoor’s father. Its interests were his own. Aiskeep had always been clever in that. Its guard was chosen from those born and bred there. Now and again they added another family. But a guard was never chosen from that generation. His people were treated fairly, not as other lords closer to Kars corruption often dealt with their servants. Tarnoor was sure his people were loyal, but like most, they gossiped. Hanion would see to it that gossip was confined to Aiskeep.
They clattered back through the gate just as the last wain was being unloaded. Trovagh had been carried off to finish his sleep in a bed, but Elanor waited for her lord in the courtyard.
“Ciara?”
“I persuaded her to drink chicken broth, my lord. She slept then, but I know she had nightmares. She cried out and struggled in her sleep often. I fear she may be ill from the shock.”
Tarnoor sighed. “I know. Her mother was the only one hereabouts with healcraft. Do what you can. Let Trovagh visit as he wishes. She trusts him.”
Elanor nodded as he strode away. She would care for the child as her own. She, too, had liked Lanlia and trusted her. Unlike others outside the Keep Lanlia had not treated the woman as a mere servant. Elanor had indeed been maid and companion to Keep’s Lady when they arrived. But she had also been bloodkin from a branch of the family without wealth. Still, she had been well taught in all the things necessary to care for a large Keep. Seria had been delicate—and lazy. She had been more than happy for Elanor to take over the running of the Keep’s day-by-day affairs. When visiting, Lanlia had spoken to Elanor as a friend, and deferred to her knowledge of the Keep when ordering treatment for Trovagh. For her sake, Elanor would now care for Ciara. The girl was of good blood, Old Race or not. She hastily stifled another idea. That was the future. It did not do to tempt the gods.
Over the next few weeks Ciara faded, however, despite all Elanor could do. The girl slept, only to wake screaming. Elanor became aware the child was unable to keep down most of what she ate. Trovagh was gentle with his friend. He could take her mind from memories and willingly played the fool to do so whenever possible. But at last even he was afraid for her.
“Father, I don’t think Ciara is well.”
“No.” Tarnoor didn’t think. He knew. It was as if a wasting fever had the lass in its grasp. “Does she talk to you? Say anything about her nightmares?”
“No. I asked, but she doesn’t want to say. What can I do to help?”
His father sighed. “Just be her friend, lad. Maybe she’ll talk once she’s been here a while longer.” He returned to a letter from a friend as Trovagh ran off. News from Kars was odd these days. Yvian had made ax-marriage to the daughter of Verlaine. The mother’s line had been well enough, but the father’s? Faugh! The man was a wrecker and a rogue. And what of Aldis, she’d not appreciate being thrust aside for some maiden. Letters were few and slow arriving of recent weeks. This one was dated before the Horning. He took up another of a later date and read in bewilderment. What all this talk of Kolder was he did not know, but he liked nothing about it.
He finished reading and rose slowly. Out in the stables he found Hanion and took him aside.
“Strange things happen in Kars of late. I think it wise that we mend walls and shut gates. Make no haste too obvious but be sure all is secure.” He saw the sharp glance that met his. “Yes. It is possible trouble may travel this far. We host messengers of other lords as they pass. Tread lightly, but I would know how others of our rank have dealt with the Horning.”
“That I can tell you already, Lord. Many have ignored it, or openly taken people under their protection. The messenger of Lord Geavon came through last week. He said his lord was very angry, saying that his family had been lords of Gerith for centuries. They took no orders to murder their people from some upstart mercenary. The only man who attacked at the horns bidding, he took and hung.”
Tarnoor grinned. He knew Lord Geavon. A crotchety, gloomy man but a good friend and kin to Tarnoor. Geavon’s great love was his lineage and his Keep. In Kars Yvian’s word ran, but further out, the lords remembered their duke was a man of no family. They might bow politely in Kars. In their Keeps they bowed to none. Yvian had been raised to duke to keep order in
the towns and city. If he failed at this, it was likely there would be plots to depose him. No decent lord appreciated the sort of disorder that was now upon Kars. He proved right in that. As days passed small groups of refugees slipped by Aiskeep. Some, bolder, ventured in with letters of introduction from men known to Tarnoor.
He helped all who did so. Some would have taken Ciara with them, had he asked. He did not. Lanlia had trusted him. Besides, the child was too weak to travel. He did not yet acknowledge that he had grown swiftly to love her. The slow seep of those who fled lessened and died. It bothered him. He wasn’t above being tempted; there’d been things done he regretted in his life. But this wholesale slaughter of the innocent appalled him. He would kill if he was attacked, or occasionally as a needed example. But Yvian was ruining Karsten with this folly. His grimness lightened considerably with the next letter.
His bellows of amusement brought Trovagh, Ciara, Hanion, and Elanor.
“My lord?” Hanion was interested.
Tarnoor read further and shouted again with mirth. He looked at the circle of puzzled faces. “A letter from a friend near Kars. Yvian is short a bride. The girl vanished into Estcarp to wed some boy there. It appears Yvian was not to her taste. The Kolder, too, are ended. Estcarp made a foray against them and the Kolder are gone from Kars.” He snickered loudly. “None of this will sit well with the duke. Makes the man look a fool, not that he isn’t. But no man likes the world to know it. He’ll have to move in some way to regain authority. Hanion, just in case it’s in this direction, move the work along faster. I want the walls mended in another week. You may also look for another half-dozen suitable guards. I’ll be sending you with some of the men to Teral market. We want more weapons and I’d like to lay in barrels of beer and salt beef.” He clapped his hands still grinning. “That’s all the news. Off with you.”
Trovagh stayed. “May Ciara and I go along, Father? She’s never been to a real market in a town before.”
His father considered. It might perk the child up. She didn’t look of the Old Race so should be safe enough in Hanion’s care, then again was she fit to travel so far? It would be a full day’s ride there and another home again. He compromised.
