“I didn’t like the way Kirin spoke. There’s something behind that attitude of his. I know he and the duke are close; the boy’s spent most of the last couple of years in Kars. He’s hardly home at all. Geavon’s always said Pagar had his plans all laid out. That he was moving up step by step.”
“Geavon’s an old man who sees plots in every dark corner.”
“Geavon’s an old man who’s survived a lot of plots in dark corners,” Ciara retorted. “I don’t always agree with him, but I do here. I don’t know what it is”—she twisted her fingers together—“but I feel as if something is closing in on us. As if we are being watched, and in danger.”
Trovagh caught her restless fingers into his hands. “Hush, love. It’s all right. Kirin is only a young fool. He’s rushed to Kars to check the law. Once he finds Father spoke true, the boy will be back. Although, he could go.” He looked down at their linked hands. “I know why the law was made. It was to prevent children from being used as pawns in the old days. A child ruling anywhere has always been dangerous for those ruled. Father is old, but he’s strong and healthy. He should live long. Then there is me. I know I take colds, sometimes badly in winter, but I have you to aid me. Kirin has two sons to follow him here.”
Ciara was listening to him as he continued. “The problem is, sweetheart, that Father is old. I am known to be often winter-sick. And Aisha comes from a powerful clan. By law if Father, I, and Kirin died, you should be regent here for our grandsons. But can you see Aisha’s clan sitting back to allow it? No, they’d be here on some pretext within weeks. Aisha’s lazy. She’d agree to anything they demanded rather than argue.”
“And you think I’d sit by and allow Aiskeep to be overrun with her damned clan?”
“No, my dear, I don’t. For which reason they’d move against you first of all. Pagar is allied to Aisha’s clan, and you know the talk. It’s amazing how many accidents one can have if someone else puts their mind to it.”
He realized she was no longer paying attention to him. He fell silent, content to sit holding her hands in the quiet firelit room. His love. She’d always been that behind the friendship. It had taken him too long to see. But they’d had almost thirty years together in the big bed next door. He hoped for another thirty or even more. Their family lived long, and Cee was half of the Old Race. They’d be safe at Aiskeep. When other fools spent their coin on fancy clothes, trips to Kars, and looking fine at the court there, Aiskeep had been built.
Their outer walls were massive. The gates were strong and doubly so with a second curtain wall within and beyond the gates. There were now three escape routes where once there had been two. The garths in the Keep-guarded valley were snug, the buildings kept in repair. The people of Aiskeep lived far better than any Keep farmers, Trovagh knew. As for the armory, it would have armed a Keep of twice as many guards. The lower storerooms were kept filled. None at Aiskeep ever forgot the sieges of the restless years after Yvian’s murder.
Ciara sat quiet, body motionless, but within the stillness her mind raced. It had been Tro’s comment about accidents. It was true. If one ill-intentioned put mind to it, it was amazing how many accidents could happen. The question was, was there a mind here and if so, whose? First there’d been Trader Tanrae, a friend of Aiskeep. He’d died in a bandit ambush: bandits paid to make sure that whatever else happened, Tanrae died. There’d been no reason for it. Tanrae had been an honest trader. He’d had no enemies any could name.
Of course who knew what one who’d been offended might name an injury. It could take very little. Then there’d been Sersgarth. The whole series of mysterious events ending in a new family there—who’d also had the wealth to purchase Elmsgarth. They’d settled into both garths over the years.
They were peaceful enough but somehow, not friendly. Always polite, but without warmth. Ciara felt measured whenever one of them looked at her. As if they waited and watched to be sure what kind of opponent she’d be when the time came.
After that—her eyes blinked back tears—after that there’d been her daughter. The suggestion that the girl had been in the way of a powerful clan. There’d been nothing but the word of a suspicious servant. But an Aiskeep servant, devoted to her mistress and trustworthy. Yet what had the suspicions amounted to, after all? The idea that a large, wealthy, and powerful clan had a young wife poisoned so her husband could swear his Keep to them without objection? One Keep against the scandal that would erupt if poisoning had even been suspected? There were things a clan did not lightly risk. Open that gate and others were free to follow.
It was unlikely, she thought. Yet the servant had listed the details. The ague from which her mistress died had had unusual symptoms. It was odd that they had rid themselves of the servant with quite such haste. Odder still that the grieving husband should be swearing his Keep to another clan and so very hastily in such secret. She had a sense of something moving here, but her mind refused to put the puzzle pieces together. There was a vague link. Tanrae had been Aiskeep’s friend, Ciara’s savior. Sersgarth had been Aiskeep’s neighbor. A daughter of Aiskeep was strangely dead.
Well, worrying over it would not help, she decided. She’d done enough of that lately. Better to fix her mind on something she could remedy, like the way Aisha spoiled those brats of hers. She rose, taking Trovagh affectionately by the arm.
“I’m for our bed, my love.” He followed, glad she seemed to have found peace.
Kirin paid another visit, this time to speak with his wife. He found her infuriatingly unhelpful.
“I’m not becoming involved. I have to live here while you play at lords all over Kars. Your mother picks on me, your grandfather thinks I’m a fool, and you pay me no attention.” She burst into tears. “I’m with child again, too. Go away and do whatever you want. Just don’t expect me to help you.”
Kirin went. He rode back to the city convinced that a dukedom in Estcarp would be a boon greater than he’d thought. He could find some way of ridding himself of Aisha, and taking a younger, prettier wife. Perhaps a girl of Estcarp who would be properly grateful to be wed instead of taken as mistress. He’d take his sons in hand, too. They seemed more unruly and ill-mannered each time he saw them. A tough Armsmaster and a few beatings should cure that.
Once in Kars he was angered all over again to find Pagar was still on the border. The week it would take to ready the army had already stretched to two. Still Kirin could not legally join without causing an outcry. He must persuade Pagar to intervene before it was too late. He rode on to find him there. On the border his duke was triumphant. It seemed that the forces of Estcarp had learned the lessons Pagar had been teaching. He was closeted with his scout head as Kirin stamped in to join him.
“They pull back, my lord. If this continues, we may be through the mountains shortly. The heart is going out of them.
We win and win and they see no end to this war. My spies say that the fleet in Es Bay will bear away many of their lords and their households. For that reason, too, no doubt the men fall back. Few soldiers fight well when they know their masters plan to abandon them.” He sneered at the thought.
Pagar agreed. “Keep pressing them, but do not make them too desperate as yet. The bulk of my army will be ready shortly. Once we have that we can advance at speed.” Kirin nodded agreement. Pagar waved the scout chief to depart before continuing his speech to the intent Kirin. He laid his finger on a map. “Here I will split the army. The greater portion of it, led by me, will strike into the heart of Estcarp direct for Es City. The remainder led by you, will turn northwest and travel as fast as they may to the great bay. As soon as we are through the mountains I’ll have a screen of scout-fighters flung far forward in front of that portion.”