The older, named Kirion for his father, was the more ferocious in that. His visits to Aiskeep had slowly made two things clear to him. The first was that he did not wish to molder his life away settling dirt-grubber disputes while living too many days’ ride from Kars and civilization, luxury, pretty women, and all that made life interesting. The second was a bitter anger that the choice was unlikely to be his to make.
Trovagh had watched the boy for those years. He had seen the impatience, the belief that Kirion was more important than any farmer or servant. And he had seen that his people would never be happy with Kirion ruling Aiskeep.
The younger boy, Keelan, was a better choice, yet Trovagh doubted him, too. He was the more intelligent. It might just be that the younger lad had learned to conceal his beliefs better, learned to hide the contempt Kirion felt openly. Neither Trovagh nor Ciara liked the attitude of the brothers to their much younger sister.
“Kirion patronizes her,” Ciara said.
“A natural attitude for a much older brother, beloved. But I dislike far more his belief that she is inferior because she is a girl.”
Ciara smiled. “Of course he has to believe that. The child rides better, knows Aiskeep and its people better, and is secure here. Kirion resents it all. That mother of his seems to have filled his head with all sorts of ideas about his importance. He comes here and finds a child almost half his age being listened to over him.”
“Of course she is listened to,” Trovagh snapped impatiently. “She knows Aiskeep. If we went to Kars, we would doubtless listen to Kirion.”
“Quite. However, Kirion doesn’t see it that way; watch the boy, Tro. I’m not happy about his way of treating Aisling. One day he’ll push things too far.”
Trovagh agreed with that but what was he to do about it? The problem was partly that of age and little in common. Kirion was now twenty, while Aisling had just celebrated her eleventh name day. Keelan at seventeen was kinder to his young sister. Kirion made it clear he regarded her as an inferior nuisance. In fact, the lad’s attitude to women in general bothered Trovagh.
It was true Aiskeep was far from Kars, but Kirion didn’t make allowances for Geavon or for Trader Talron. Each in their own way brought or sent news from the city to Aiskeep. Twice of late Geavon had sent an extra separate note enclosed in his main letter. Both had carried warnings that young Kirion might be getting himself into danger. The lad had taken up with a faction that wished to see their figurehead on the throne. Trovagh had groaned. Hadn’t Yvian and Pagar done enough damage to Karsten?
Talron had brought news from the lower levels of Kars. “They say Kirion has a nasty temper. He’s not averse to beating a woman if she displeases him.”
Trovagh had been staggered. “Who?”
Talron coughed.
“Oh, I see. But even a paid companion has the right to decent treatment. What do they say of him?”
The trader sighed, “To be blunt, my lord, they say that he has no care for any. That people are merely tools to his ends. They say he would sell his honor if it bought him his ambitions or a good price.” He glanced across to see if he had given offense.
Trovagh shook his head. “It’s all right. The truth of the matter is that the boy is like that. It’s why I’ve been busy recently.” Talron said nothing, but raised an eyebrow in question. Trovagh spoke abruptly.
“I get colds in winter. These last few years they’ve been worse. I thought it time to act now, in case aught should happen. I have been to Teral’s shrine and sworn several documents. Copies have gone to Geavon to be held both by him and in the shrine records in Kars.” He hesitated. “You and your father were always good friends to Aiskeep. It may be as well that you, too, know.”
Talron sat silent. He would not ask, that would be intrusive, but he would listen. He hoped the answer would be what he wished to hear.
“Tarnoor made a similar deed,” Trovagh continued. “He said that when he died, I was heir, but if I died Ciara was to follow me as heir and to have Heir’s Right also.”
The trader blinked. That was strong wine to drink. Under Karsten law it was legal, yes, but unusual. The more so when the woman named was not of the clan or kin blood. It was a Right usually given to a sister, to a mother or daughter of the one bestowing it.
“I, too,” Trovagh said quietly, “have said this. I am undecided as to who shall inherit Aiskeep. I have formally disinherited Kirion but Keelan may yet be worthy. But if something happens to me, Ciara now has the Right under law to choose her successor. Geavon has several likely grandsons. Unlike Kirion who seems to feel this Keep beneath him, they would be happy to live and rule here. My father decided something similar before he followed Pagar.”
Talron grunted agreement. He knew that bunch—full of life and energy. At least two of them would rule well; they understood the garthspeople and the needs of a Keep. Geavon might live near the city but he had old-fashioned ideas on what a young man should know. His grandsons had been well taught.
Trovagh stood up. “I thought it best you knew. A man should know where he stands. You and your father were long friends of Aiskeep.” He tossed back the last of his wine, and placed the mug on the table before moving to the door. “I’ll ask you to say nothing of this to any. Elanor and Ciara know, and now you, but none else.”
The trader bowed. “I’m honored,” he said sincerely.
He considered the conversation once he had retired. Trovagh was wise. Kirion was a viper in any bosom. Talron had heard more than he’d passed on. Much of it was gossip and rumor but even that could have a solid base. If it was true, the foolish boy was tampering with dangerous forces. Keelan ran in his brother’s shadow. Yet there was something more likable there. In Talron’s opinion, Keelan did what he had to, to survive in a household that revolved around the older brother’s wishes.
He sighed for Trovagh and Ciara, both of whom he greatly liked. Odd how a solid, decent line seemed to birth a rotten apple sometimes. Kirin had been more stupid than evil. But his son—Talron was afraid there could be real evil there. Of course it hadn’t helped that Aisha had spoiled the older boy all his life. Kirion had only to whine and whatever he wanted was his. The younger lad was less indulged. To some extent, the way he’d been handled on his visits to Aiskeep had also helped to counteract his spoiling. Still, it was quite possible Trovagh was right and neither boy was Keep Ruler material.
A pity that would be. Geavon was some sort of cousin, but a grandson would keep the rule within the family more or less. Talron sighed again. It was none of his business. But he’d give a lot to be a fly on the wall if Kirion found out about all this.
Kirion did. Being Kirion he jumped to several additional conclusions. The first being that Keelan would have been disinherited as well, the second that it would be Aisling who received Aiskeep and all that the inheritance carried. He’d never liked her, now he hated. He arrived at the Keep on his next visit seething with rage.
Since he could not legally know any of this, he kept silent. It made his anger rise even higher until just the sight of his small sister made him feel sick. He’d never felt any affection for her. He’d been nine when she was born. Almost at once his mother had packed up to live nearer Kars in the Keep of her father’s clan, leaving the unwanted baby to be fostered by Ciara. It had been another three years before Kirion had returned to Aiskeep to visit. Aisha had simply made excuses each year until Trovagh had made it clear he would accept no more. But as a result, Kirion had known nothing of Aisling until he arrived that first time. For several years more, he had barely seen her on these trips. It was only over the past three or four years that she’d been in evidence.
By then Kirion regarded himself as a man. It had infuriated him that a girl of eight could outride him. That she knew more about Aiskeep, its people and its needs than he did. Twice during the last visit she’d made him look foolish. It did not occur to him that it had been his eagerness to impress those about him that had done that. He’d taken responsibility for little in his life before, and it was natural to him to seek a scapegoat.