Ciara saw to it that the bubbling soup pots were shifted to one side to allow those still cold to warm. She also had a few words with several of the women.
Under a moonlit sky Tarnoor pressed on. Amongst the oncoming guard Hanion suddenly saw something. He reined up alongside his master.
“My lord, look!”
Tarnoor stared. “Dear Gods, the bandits must have fired a garth house.”
He drew rein. “We must not rush in…”
Hanion cut across his words. “No, Lord, I can hear Marin’s flute. He would not play that for any bandits. I think it’s a celebration. Nor would he celebrate if the young lord or lady were hurt.”
Tarnoor kicked his horse into a canter again. He strained his eyes for a sight of the boy and girl as he came into the firelight. His eyes fell first onto the bandits, twelve of them lying in a neat row propped against the house wall. By the other wall the children sat on a long settle brought out for the purpose.
Ciara had been listening; she heard the hoofbeats and signaled. Tarnoor loomed out of the night, the expression on his face grim. Before he could speak she ran forward to take his hand as he dismounted. Tarnoor found himself sitting on the low seat, a large steaming bowl of savory-smelling soup in his hands. The girl knelt at his feet.
“We’re so sorry, Uncle Nethyn. We know how worried you and Aunt Elanor would have been. But we had to do it.” Her voice lowered, “We’re theirs as much as they are ours. How could we run away from danger leaving them to fight alone? They fought so well, too.”
Tarnoor grunted. “How many dead and injured?”
“Oh, none of our side were hurt at all. Well, Marin’s son has a bruised—um—behind. He tripped over a bandit in the dark. You should have heard what he said.” She made a shocked face.
Tarnoor felt a chuckle rising. A dozen hardened bandits beaten by two children and a pack of farmers. He tried in vain to keep his face hard, before the laughter exploded. He threw back his head and bellowed. Trovagh sighed in relief. He’d thought Cee could soften the old man’s anger. He marched forward then with the head of each garth following.
“Father, I wish these men commended. We said that each might have a horse from the bandits’ mounts in recognition of garth courage and aid this night. Do you agree to this, my lord.” He went down formally on one knee before his father, a junior officer to his superior.
Taken by surprise, Tarnoor made no move. His eyes scanned those who waited. He saw the pride in themselves. They had faced armed men, led by their young lord. They had won and without injuries. It was events such as these which would forge the bonds between led and leader. It did no harm at all for a lord to be held as lucky, either. He remembered the anguish of his ride here. The terror that he might find either child dead or horribly injured. But he could not take his own fear out on those before him. He smiled.
“I agree. But first you who led shall each choose a horse. Bring out the beasts now so that we may see them.”
Ciara had vanished to obey almost as he spoke. She returned leading the two she had noticed. These were held to one side. In the dark Tarnoor could see little. The other ten mounts were paraded. All were reasonable beasts, geldings mostly with one mare. The mare, more valuable, was awarded to Jontar’s garth. It had been his family who risked most. The other four garth heads each took their choice. The chosen beasts were led away, the remaining five taken to join the guard mounts. Tarnoor turned to glance out into the dark.
“Of what like are the two you have chosen?”
Ciara led them forward. Tarnoor gasped. “Do you know what you have here, lass?”
“No, I’ve never seen horses like them, Uncle Nethyn. They look different from any but they are gentle. Look.” One of the beasts was lipping her hair, while the other nuzzled the girl’s shoulder. “This one’s a stallion, the other one’s a mare.” She looked slightly puzzled. “I always thought horses didn’t care about mates, but these two do.”
Tarnoor spoke softly, in awe. “Yes, they would. Nor am I surprised you have never seen the like of them. They are rare. Incredibly rare in Karsten. These are Torgians, child. They must not be young. Perhaps they were loot from the time of Yvian. They are a pair, trained to work together very likely. They bond to their riders as ordinary beasts do not, but only if the rider is worthy. Also they live long lives though they breed less often. They are a treasure beyond price to Aiskeep.”
Ciara patted the nearest rough shoulder. “Then Tro and I can keep them?”
“You may indeed. They are yours, one for each of you. Who shall have which of them?”
Ciara trotted over to Trovagh leading the Torgians. There was a quick muttered colloquy. She returned. “Tro wants the mare; that’s fine because I want the stallion.” Tarnoor opened his mouth to object, then noticed the beast nuzzling her with what he could only describe as an air of already besotted affection. He agreed resignedly. Torgians made their own choice of rider. A wise man who knew horses did not interfere.
“If you are both happy with that. Now stable the beasts and come, tell me how all this happened. Ami could give me only your message.” At once Trovagh and Ciara competed to explain. Separately and in chorus they told of how they had spied, plotted, and finally fought. Tarnoor hid his expression in blandness. From what the lad said, both had known some of the danger they were in, but not all. Ciara dashed away to bring more soup and Tarnoor turned to his son.
“What did you hear them say while you listened alone?”
The boy blushed, looking miserable. “They talked about women.”
Tarnoor was relentless, “What exactly?”
Trovagh spilled out the filth he had overheard, his face reddening until it could be seen even in the firelight.
His father nodded. “Yes, that is how men like that think and act. If they had taken you, either of you…”
“I know!” the young voice burst in. “Father, it was all I could think of until we got back to the garths. It was my fault. I risked Cee. I didn’t tell her what they said. I think she sort of guessed but I couldn’t tell her the words. They made me feel sick.”
“As any decent man would feel,” Tarnoor said quietly. “These are not good men. They are bandits. Best in daylight we ride back to this cave and look about. It may be that they’d had prisoners or other loot left to wait for their return.” He took the boy by the shoulders looking into the young, anxious eyes. “I understand all you did and why. I cannot punish you or Ciara for courage, or for standing by those you will one day rule. Your plans…”
“Cee thought up a lot of it!” Trovagh interrupted.
“Yours and Ciara’s plans worked well. They were sensible, pitting your strengths against the enemy’s weaknesses. But you were lucky. It isn’t often plans go as intended.”
Ciara had joined them, leaning against Tarnoor’s knee. She broke in then. “That’s what Hanion always says. Not to expect your plans to go the way you lay them out. He says you should have contingencies arranged, too. We did, Uncle Nethyn. As much as we could, and we had reserves waiting. Tro was wonderful!” She turned a glowing look on her friend as he blushed.
Tarnoor was hard put to it not to chuckle. They were so innocent, so young. Yet—he recalled the sudden ugliness of his son’s eyes as he recounted the conversation he had overheard. The lad had understood too much to ever be completely innocent again. He’d known he faced the same dangers with men like these, but his outrage and fears had all been for the girl.
His father grinned, not that Ciara couldn’t do her share. He’d bellowed all over again at her account. That first pair of bandits sneaking around the house in the dark hunting women. They’d certainly found them but not quite in the manner intended. Then while all was confusion in the house, Ciara had taken her group to undo the saddle girths on the waiting mounts. A very old trick that, but still good it appeared. Around him the celebration was louder. Many couples were dancing, more food had been brought out, and others ate and drank, toasting their lord’s son and his lady. Tarnoor accepted a mug of beer and drank heartily. Then he entered the circle dance. He wasn’t too old to celebrate his children’s victory either, by the Flame.