He smiled viciously. “I want none of the Witches to know they will be cut off from their fleet in the bay. Let it come as a surprise to them. Those who suddenly have hope taken away break more easily.” He drank deep from his cup, and looked up, face flushed red with wine. “I have laid my plans a long time, but now they ripen. In a month I will sit in Es City as master. Alizon is finding their own enemies a harder nut to crack than they’d hoped. My spies say it looks possible that Alizon will be defeated. I will take perhaps a year to recover our own strength. To train soldiers, to replace those we lose. After that I will consider Alizon.”
Kirin gasped, “You would rule three countries, my lord?”
“Why not? A man takes what he can in this life. Now, as for your grandsire, I will move there soon. You lead a third of my army. Do you think I will allow some old dotard to deprive me of a commander?” He patted Kirin’s shoulder. “Come, man. More wine and look to this map.” He guided the talk thereafter, before saying he would rise early and must go to his bed.
Once retired, Pagar called for one to attend him.
“Wake me early, at first light. I ride for Kars at speed. A light escort to ride with me. Two horses for each of us. Send a courier now with these orders for my lord Draven in the city.” He thrust a roll of sealed papers into the waiting hand.
He saw the man off and relaxed. At last all his plans were in motion. So few things left to do before he ruled a subject land. He smiled to himself. He’d risen high and meant to rise higher. Estcarp, Alizon, but beyond them were lands the Sulcar knew. Why stop before he reached even further? Here in Karsten he was limited. Officially he must answer to the merchants of Kars, to the heads of his wife’s clan. But in Estcarp, Alizon—he must answer to none but his own desires. Alone with no one to see, his smile was evil.
With daybreak he rode for Kars, where fresh horses waited. Pagar rested, then rode for Aiskeep. Once there he hailed the gates. Tarnoor appeared, to look down in surprise.
“Do you wish to enter, Duke?”
“No, let you come out to talk with me, Lord. I have that which I would say in private.”
Tarnoor sighed, turning to Trovagh and Ciara. “This will be some of Kirin’s work. The boy has convinced the duke to speak for him. Well, I must go down.”
He did so, finding a tent waiting, with a table, chairs, and wine laid ready. He sat heavily. This would not be pleasant, but the law was the law. Even the duke did not break Karsten law with impunity. He listened politely at first, later with paled face and glittering eyes. Then he signed the paper offered.
“You understand you will keep silent on this. Let your family believe Kirin is sulking in Kars awaiting my return. But I have one more request, Lord of Aiskeep.” Pagar spoke again, in lower tones.
Tarnoor reared back in his seat. “I will not!”
“Are you afraid?” The duke’s voice was silky.
“I have been a soldier before, My Lord Duke.”
“Good. Then you will know how to fight. You will do as I say. The consequences otherwise will not be in your favor.” He gloated as the old man bowed his head. He had him at last. He would deal with two now, two to come. Divide and conquer had always been a valuable method. He sat there impassively. Just another mission completed.
Behind him he left chaos. Tarnoor marched, back erect through his gates, then stood silent in anguished thought. Trovagh and Ciara came running.
“Father, what did the duke want?”
Ciara saw deeper. “What did that man say to distress you so?”
“It’s nothing, child. Just a decision I have made. I’ll talk later. For now I must have speech with Hanion.”
They watched him walk away as they gazed in bewilderment. “Hanion?” Trovagh muttered. “Why Hanion?”
“Oldest friend, perhaps. One he can trust to obey without question. Which means there is something wrong.”
They knew what it was soon enough. Through all the uproar, the weeping, the protests, Tarnoor held firm.
“I have made a bargain with the duke. If I ride with him he will see Kirin is safe. If I do not, he will take the boy anyhow. Once that is done, I must disinherit him—and his sons with him.”
“But, Father, that part of the law may be withheld at your choice. Kirin’s son could still be Keep heir.”
“Pagar threatens to have the clans rule otherwise. It would leave Aiskeep without heir, prey to any once we are gone. Pagar would see to that. I will not have it so.”
“But men, what soldiers will you take? Aiskeep guards?”
Tarnoor sighed. “I will not weaken Aiskeep. I have sent word to Tanrae’s son. Talron will spread it about that I am hiring soldiers. That I will not inquire as to character.”
“You’ll get only bandits and outlaws,” Ciara warned.
“That I know well. It will remove them from Karsten at the least.” Tarnoor smiled gently at her. He could not tell her the reason he acted thus. Pagar had threatened and Tarnoor had believed him. The reason Tarnoor had given his family had been only a portion of the threat. The other had been even more deadly. He held to his plan and his silence even when Elanor wept. It must be done.
Men trickled in, the most depraved-looking bunch Trovagh had ever seen. His father shrugged.
“You’d be surprised what unlikely material can make good soldiers.” He talked to the men of loot, and of the chances to do well in a subject land, until he was sure they would follow him at least until they reached Pagar. The duke should not be able to say a bargain had been broken. Still, unknown to his family, he hesitated. What if he did this thing and Pagar was the oathbreaker? He had not impressed Tarnoor as a man to care greatly. None knew of the words between them. None would know if Pagar returned triumphant to destroy those Tarnoor wished to save.
It was then that Ciara sought him out. “Father, I don’t know why you’re doing this. But isn’t there something I can do to help?”
He looked at her remembering the small terrified girl she had been. He’d buried her family while she stood by, then he’d taken her as his own. It wasn’t her fault Kirin had been rotten at the core. There’d been others in the Aiskeep line like that over the generations. Power-hungry seekers after more than one Keep. But he needed to know. He would ride, but what came after?
“Ciara, my daughter.” The words were slowly formal and the woman caught her breath. “Will you foresee for me?”
“You’ve never asked that.”
“I have never wished to know what lies before me. Now I must know. I know you cannot do this for yourself, maybe not for Trovagh. But perhaps for me it may be possible?”
Ciara clasped her hands. “I have never even tried.” Her voice dropped. “I, too, have never wished to know. Is it so important?”
“Yes.” The word was implacable.
“Then I will try. Where is Tro?”
“I sent him to the upper valley to speak with some of the garthspeople. He will not return until late. There is all the time we need, daughter.”
She bowed her head in acceptance. “Then let us begin.” The door was closed, the fire built higher. Ciara sat, pulling her chair around to face the chair in which Tarnoor waited. “I said I’ve never done this before. I can only do as I feel is right and pray.”
He nodded. Ciara lifted the pendant by its chain, taking it into her hands as she reached out to Tarnoor. “Take it between your palms.” He did so and she closed her fingers in turn about his wrists. Then she called the mists. She knew not if she would see: perhaps since his need was so great it would be he to whom the seeing came. Within the mist all was familiar. She wandered timelessly as always until something told her she should leave. She came to herself, sitting straighter, chilled. Before her Tarnoor’s face was wet with tears. He must have seen—but what? He allowed her to make up the fire once more but would tell her nothing.