by Andre Norton
She’d been hard hit by the death of two men—men who, Keelan thought, were probably better dead for the sake of others anyhow. The one who’d survived most of a day had talked deliriously. His descriptions of what his master had done with those stolen had almost made Keelan sick. The brute had been Kirion’s supplier and had a lot to tell.
Talron came and went. The lower storerooms bulged with what he left. Dancer had a wonderful time assisting, being shut into every room in turn and bawling to be released, only to be shut in the next and the next. He kept Aisling distracted for several days.
But once the supplies were in, the horses handed over, Talron and his men left. Now she had time to brood again. Dancer did his best, but Aisling was too unhappy to be distracted.
The truth was that she feared her gift now. She had killed with it. She’d been terrified when she was seized, but she might still have kept the fire under control. Then one of the men had twisted her arm, the pain had sickened her. With the pain she lost control. Her skin had flared with silver light, both men had fallen screaming, one was dead in seconds. The one who had hurt her. The other died before the morning. She intended none of it.
If it came without her willing it there, what of her grandparents? What of Keelan, old Hanion—any of them might touch her. Hanion always liked to throw her up onto her mount if he was by. It was his privilege. He was almost too old to lift her now, but he’d taught her to ride. How could she tell him to stand away from her? Keelan, Grandmother Ciara, Grandfather Tro, Great-Aunt Elanor, they all hugged her often. Was she to thrust them back? Demand they never come too close to her?
Worse yet, she’d begun to dream. She guessed where the place was the third time. Mountains like that weren’t natural. They had to be the border where the witches had turned all the land between Karsten and Estcarp. What were the dreams saying? That she should go to Estcarp? She probably had far kin there, distant cousins or something. Ciara’s grandmother had been of pure blood. There were sure to be kin of some degree there. Was she to go to them? But she didn’t want to leave Aiskeep.
It was midsummer when the duke arrived. He sent polite messages. He would be pleased to meet with Trovagh and his lady when it was convenient. There was a hint of steel in that: it had better be convenient quite soon. They went the following morning.
Shandro was still polite but firm. There was no good reason why their granddaughter should not wed the duke’s most loyal and trusted Ruart.
They mentioned the scandal of the witch-hunts some years ago. Shandro scowled. Ruart had been much younger. Rumor had greatly exaggerated events.
Ciara leaned forward. “We do not believe it did. Aisling is unwilling to wed Ruart. To be blunt, my Lord Duke, she says she would prefer death as a bridegroom. We do believe that. We are prepared neither to drag a drugged girl before the priestess, nor to attend her funeral. Apart from which,” she added tartly, “you are talking of a large and respectable wedding. Not some affair in the dead of night with a priestess and the couple alone. What priestess would consent to officiate in such pomp where a bride is clearly drugged until she cannot stand?”
Shandro shrugged. “You will persuade the girl it is in her best interests to wed. In the best interests of all of you. I will hear her reply in two days. If it is a refusal still, then all Aiskeep shall regret it.”
They left wordlessly. Once they were back in their rooms Trovagh stared down at the wineglass he turned in his fingers.
“A winter siege and Shandro will change his mind. Geavon’s last letter dealt with this. Once full winter closes in, the duke and his lords will be back in Kars in the warm. Geavon has a girl in mind then. He’ll aim her at Ruart. If all goes well by spring, it will be her Ruart wishes to wed.
“That’ll call off Shandro. But not Kirion. Geavon’s sure this latest business had Kirion behind it.”
Ciara snorted, “Almost certainly.”
“So what do we do?”
“What Aiskeep has always done. Play for time. If we can get Ruart and the duke off our backs, then we can turn all our resources to Kirion.”
Trovagh sighed. “Meanwhile we’re under siege—again. I must find something important for Keelan to do. He’s fuming so much I fear he may start taking risks.”
The siege began two days later when a message was sent to the duke. It was a polite but very final refusal of Ruart’s offer.
Over the next few months, summer faded into fall, and fall toward winter. With them Elanor also faded. Aisling said nothing, but privately she feared it was the worry of being under siege. If so, then it was all her fault. Elanor died as the first snow of the winter fell. They buried her in the Aiskeep graveyard. All of them wept. None had ever known an Aiskeep without her; she would be greatly missed.
But it made up Aisling’s mind finally. If she stayed here, she would only bring more trouble or death to her family. It would be best if she went away. Not to Ruart, she couldn’t. Nor to Geavon and risk yet another Keep.
Her gift ached at her. It made the decision easier. She’d go over the mountains to where she could learn to use it properly. To where they could train her to control it.
Her decision firmed. She’d go in secret, leave a note for her family. She’d go alone from the upper valley through the hills; on foot with a pack no one would know her.
She’d have to leave Dancer behind. That would hurt. In the year and a half since his birth, she’d grown to love him as much as Keelan loved Shosho. To leave Dancer behind, to turn her back on Aiskeep would tear her heart. She would never forget them, never be as happy anywhere else. But she must go.
She began to gather the things she would need. A pack she could carry, a spark striker to light fires, cooking gear, bedding, heavy clothing, and her weapons. She would need a sword, bow, and dagger. It was a long journey, and she would have to hunt some of her food as she went. Aisling hoped she would be able to carry everything she’d need. Winter was closing in. She must act soon or it would be too late. No one must know what she planned until she had gone. She reckoned without Ciara.
15
A isling had her pack prepared. She could lift it—just. That was no good. The pack was emptied and Aisling stared in despair at the contents. Dancer sat on the bed glaring at her. Now and again he gave a small growl. There was a light tap at the door, Aisling turned to toss a blanket over the pack but it was too late. Ciara was already looking at both pack and her granddaughter, knowledge and gentle amusement in her face.
She walked to the bed, pushed Dancer up gently, then sat. “I guessed you had this in mind. Where do you plan to go?”
“To Estcarp. I keep dreaming of the mountains where they turned.” She looked at Ciara. “Are you going to stop me?”
Her grandmother shook her head slowly. “No, dearling. But I have a tale to tell you. You know how I came to live at Aiskeep?”
Aisling nodded. She’d grown up knowing the story of that time when all was death and destruction for the Old Race in Karsten.
“I saw my mother Lanlia die. At the time, I saw only that she fell in silence from our watchtower, no cry of fear or horror. Some years later, I dreamed of it. A true dreaming. My father’s mother lived with us until she died two years before our blood was named outlaw. She loved us all deeply. She was of the old pure blood and held Power in her time. I dreamed that my mother stood waiting at the tower’s edge. Then Grandmother spoke to her.”
Aisling was engrossed. “What did she say?”
“She said ‘The blood shall come full circle. It shall rise to flower again.’ Then she called. I was in my mother’s mind as she fell. Her spirit was taken before she reached the ground.”
“What does that mean, about the blood coming full circle?”
“Wait. I dreamed again, many years after that. I saw the mountains turn. I heard the same voice repeating those words. But when I assumed it meant the blood should go over mountains to Estcarp, it said no. It added then ‘Not to Estcarp but to the East shall the blood seek.
There it shall flower in freedom. When the time comes, give what you treasure that one you love may fly free.’ ”
“East—but there’s nothing east, is there?”
“There is far more to the East than any once believed. You were too busy at Gerith Keep. But Geavon has long ears. So, too, does Trader Talron. Between the tales both have heard, I can say that eastward there is another land. Old, not new. It was from there that those in Estcarp once came. And since we, too, are of their blood the land may yet welcome you. I have dreamed of mountains even as you. And more.”
Ciara held up a hand. “Last night I dreamed a third time. I saw you ride out with Keelan and Dancer.” At her side the cat gave a short chirp of approval. “I looked close, my child, I saw, too, the treasures you shall bear.”
Aisling bowed her head a moment, then she looked up. “I can’t take Dancer. It’s winter and getting colder every day. How is he to keep up with horses if we ride?”
The cat rose on his hind legs patting at her braids. Ciara smiled. “I think you may not find it so easy to leave him behind. As for his being able to keep up, once you reach the mountains it may be best to go afoot. Until then, he can ride with you in a carrysack the way babies do. Let us look over your pack.”
Aisling opened her mouth and shut it again. No one ever bested her grandmother once Ciara was determined on something.
In the end it was several more days before Aisling departed. When she did, they left by the upper valley, both she and Keelan astride horses of the Aiskeep strain. Dancer rode her shoulders in a padded baby sack. But before they were gone, Ciara took Aisling aside.
“Give me your dagger.” She accepted it, producing a second knife, which she offered. “This belonged to my own line. Legends say it was made by an adept so long ago the years themselves are dust. Whatever the truth of that, it will never require to be sharpened. Where you go, that is of more use than legends. There is also this. It was my mother’s. Elanor laid it away in a chest. I found it after her death.”
Aisling gasped at the cloak. It was of riding length. Astride it would hang almost to her stirrups, knee-length when she walked on foot. It was woven of a fine gray wool, lined with white fur, and made skillfully so it could be worn either side out.
Ciara stroked it as she held it out. “I remember my mother making that, spinning and weaving the length of wool half of the previous winter. I wore it when I left Elmsgarth with Tarnoor and Trovagh—afterward.” Aisling did not ask after what. She knew it had been after the deaths of all her grandmother’s family.
She saw that Ciara still held something. It was within a small bag of embroidered silk. A finely wrought tempered-steel chain hung from the bag’s opening at the top.
“Is that for me, too?”
“Yes.” She lifted it toward Aisling as she lowered her head. As it settled on her breast the girl felt a surge of warmth.
“Oh, what is it?” Her fingers widened the opening as she peered down. “Grandmother, I can’t take this. It’s your pendant. The one your brother gave you.”
“And now I pass it on. In my dream I saw you ride, child. My mother’s cloak about you, Dancer at your shoulder. Fire shone at hip and breast where dagger and pendant hung. I do as I was bidden once. I give what I treasured, that one I love may fly free.”
Aisling bent to hug Ciara hungrily. This would be the last time she’d see Aiskeep, the last time she saw the love in her grandparents’ eyes, felt their arms about her. Trovagh saw his wife was done and joined them, hugging Aisling lovingly.
“Take care, my dear. May you find your dream.”
Aisling nodded, her throat aching too much for her to speak. She turned her horse toward where Keelan waited. Behind her Ciara whispered.
“Fly free. Find your dream and be happy.”
She linked her arm with that of her husband. They stood watching until there was nothing more to see. Then they sought the shrine to pray.
* * *
The air was cold but not the icy chill that would grip later in winter. At first Aisling was somber but then her mood lightened. It was an adventure. Besides, she had to go. She couldn’t be miserable all the way to the border and make poor Keelan unhappy, too. She began to sing, then choked off the sound hurriedly.
Keelan laughed. “Yes, sing, little sister. There are no enemies about to hear you.”
“How do you know?” Despite her resolutions her tone was sharp.
“Grandmother leaves no more to chance than she must. Six of the guards rode out yesterday. They travel in a screen ahead for the next few days. Once they turn back, we’ll disguise you and the horses. It’s mostly their color people remember. With you, they remember you’re a girl.” Aisling looked at him in surprise.
“I’m going to be a boy?”
“Yes. I’ll be a blank shield, you’ll be my younger brother learning the trade.” His voice dropped in regret. “We’ll have to cut your hair and both of us will be bleached blond.”
“Why didn’t we do this before we left Aiskeep? It would have been easier.”
Keelan nodded. “And people would know. Kirion’s still about. He’s very good at persuading people to talk one way or another. You’ll notice Ciara didn’t give you the cloak until we were past all the garths.”
He glanced up at the sky. “It’s going to snow again. We’ll keep moving until we get to shelter. I’ve kindling in my pack.”
They rode in silence then, Aisling thinking as she moved automatically to the swing of her mount’s steps. In a way she supposed she’d been naive. She’d somehow imagined that she would just walk out of the valley alone. Walk all down the line of hills to Geavon’s Keep, then up along the border to some place she could cross into Estcarp. Just as if she was out for a ladylike stroll in her own Keep.
She gave a slightly bitter smile. And she had probably expected a complete Keep of relatives to be waiting at the pass to greet her. She took a deep breath of the cold air. Thanks be to Cup and Flame for her grandmother. Without her, Aisling would still have been walking to the border a year hence.
They camped in a shallow cave that night. It was quite comfortable, Aisling thought, if you didn’t mind sleeping on rock in a draft. It reminded her all over again that even so, this would be easier than the trip she’d planned. Keelan was quietly confident.
“If there was any trouble ahead, one of the men would have come back to warn us. Sleep all night. Later on we’ll have to take it in turns to stand watch.”
Five days passed in peace as the horses plodded through the light snow. On the fifth night one of the guards from Aiskeep appeared. Keelan looked up in query.
“No sign of anyone, my lord. A couple of the others have gone another day ahead just in case. They’ll watch the road you’ll be joining then. They can tell you who’s ahead of you. I’ve sent others back to see who comes up the road behind you.”
“Good. Share the fire, tell Keep’s lord and lady we were well when you saw us last.” The man nodded agreement. When Aisling woke, he was already gone.
They found the other guards at the road. Harran greeted them, quietly waving them to camp in the lee of a large lawleaf thicket.
“Very little traffic on the road,” he told them over stew. “Ahead, there’s a small group of merchants hurrying to winter over in Kars. Coming up behind you there’s several single travelers. None look to be a danger.” He looked at Dancer. “Just don’t let any of them see that cat. It isn’t exactly the sort of companion mercenaries ride with. Move along briskly, though, and likely they’ll never catch you up.”
Keelan and Aisling did so. The roads were wearying since they kept more to the lesser trails and stayed from the main road direct to Kars city. They arrived at Geavon’s home to good news once the old man had them alone.
“Ruart has taken the bait I have dangled before him. He will wed the girl and Shandro will call home his soldiers before the winter is done. But be wary. I have heard nothing of Kirion of late; that I dislike.”
&
nbsp; Keelan looked thoughtful. “Did you not have a spy in Iren Keep?”
“I did. He vanished,” Geavon said briefly.
Keelan whistled. “I dislike that myself. How much could he have said if forced to speak?”
“Too much. Yet he disappeared on the way here. It may have been bandits. His horse was a good beast.”
“And if it was not?” Keelan queried, leaning over to stroke Dancer.
“Then he could have said you were on the way here. That you were expected before the worst part of the winter. I made inquiry when I discovered he was nowhere to be found. He should not have known these things, but someone spoke too carelessly.” Geavon gathered himself to stand slowly. “I think it best that you, Keelan, remain here. If there are watchers, let you appear careless just once. They will believe Aisling remains here with you.”
“But she does not?”
“No, there is a garth along the river. It is well on the way to the mountains and east. She may spend the remainder of the winter there in safety. In spring, she can travel on as she wishes.” He bowed toward Aisling. “That is, if this accords with your desire, my dear.”
She had been listening carefully. Now she bowed in return speaking formally, “It accords with my wish in all ways save that I may have brought trouble to Gerith Keep and its lord.”
Geavon chuckled harshly. “The trouble is an old debt, child, and none of your making. Tarnoor whom you never knew was like a brother to me and distant kin also. I may not live to see the end of this, but when our spirits meet I would not have him feel I had done less than he would have done for one of my children in need. Go now and rest. I will see that messages are sent.”
He smiled as they trotted obediently away. They were good children, healthy twigs from a rotten branch. He’d always known the father would bring death or disaster, but these two were sound stock.
Messengers left before dark and a watcher saw. He went to report, not to Kirion but to Ruart, who found it interesting. He listened and smiled slowly.
One messenger to the south road. That would be to let Aiskeep know their lambs had arrived safely. The other messenger to the hills, luckily there had been two watchers. The leader was intelligent, and he’d sent his companion to follow the hill rider. Ruart had long suspected that Geavon had some holding there. The old man had been clever, but not quite as clever as he thought.
