Over the months, he investigated. It would be convenient if he could come up with some kind of spell that would burn all the relevant papers at once wherever they were. He turned to reading. There were books still to be found on the subject of witchery if one searched hard enough. Kirion searched, ending up with a shelf full of volumes. All told him what he didn’t want to know. That witchery was not what he’d always believed. It wasn’t spells and chants so much as the focused will of the one working it.
This was not popular information. However, there were some vague, obscure references to other methods.
Kirion settled to more research, pausing only to make Keelan’s life a misery. To escape, Keelan fled to Aiskeep, arriving more in charity with those there than he’d ever been. He was received dubiously; no one was forgetting Kirion’s action on his last visit. But Keelan was so clearly unhappy that they gradually allowed him some acceptance. The boy would have liked to respond but had long since learned to show nothing.
It was Harran who broke through some of the shell in which the boy had encased himself. Harran was Master at Arms since Hanion was finally past the harder, longer work. He was Hanion’s nephew, and was intent on following family tradition in service to Aiskeep. Harran hadn’t much liked what he’d seen over the years of Aisha or her sons. But finding Keelan ready to listen that first day, Harran was ready to teach. He found Keelan not ill-taught already.
It could be seen the lad had been given reasonable Armsmasters, but of the very conventional kind. Not for them the tricks and ruses that might be the difference between life and death in an alley brawl. Harran took the lad in hand.
Keelan learned as well as listened. He found it far more interesting than he’d have believed. For most of his life, Kirion had insisted that his younger brother was inferior. It was good to do something where Keelan was praised. He worked harder to earn what he knew to be honest comment.
Harran was slowly impressed. He knew the boy was unhappy, knew that this was in part why he was turning to hard work. In Harran’s opinion, that was good. Sweat and exhaustion tended to burn out misery. You were too tired to be emotional. He gave generous praise when it was due and until the noonday meal, worked Keelan until the boy was ready to drop. He was pleased to find the novice had a strong wrist, a good eye, and an excellent sense of point.
“That’s it, yes. Now lunge—and parry—lunge, yes! Good, lad.”
Keelan wiped sweat from his forehead as he relaxed back. Kirion had always said that a noble didn’t fight like this, but it was fun. It was also pleasant to know Keelan would be a lot more dangerous to bandits or back alley thugs now should he meet any. He grinned as the thought also occurred to him that Kirion didn’t know these methods. It would be a good idea to keep silent on the subject. If he and Kirion ever fought, it would be very pleasant to have a few tricks up his sleeves.
He spent the afternoon riding with Harran, too. For the first time, Keelan found himself mounted on one of the dun strain that Aiskeep had become known for. They had more endurance and more intelligence than ordinary mounts. He’d never known where they began. Now, riding down the valley, he asked to be rewarded with the tale of how his grandparents when mere children had beaten a bandit force with the aid of the garthspeople. He was surprised and impressed by the tale.
“So the horses were Torgians. What were they like; are they really that different?”
Harran was happy to expound. He followed that by taking Keelan out to the herd that ranged to the end of the upper valley and beyond into the foothills. The boy was awestruck. He’d never seen such beasts. It was not the looks so much but the intelligence that shone from their eyes. The feeling that even as he admired them, they were estimating Keelan’s worth. He was afraid that however such animals chose a rider, Keelan was unlikely to measure up. His gaze was wistful. To have a horse like that would be wonderful.
He returned to the evening meal tired, wind-burned, and unusually happy. He found the family in front of the hearth in the smaller hall. With them were assorted cats and a bevy of kittens all climbing merrily into any mischief they could find.
Keelan winced. His mother had always said of Aiskeep, that one of the things that had decided her to leave had been all those infuriating cats. She had claimed them to be dirty, flea-ridden, and dangerous. On subsequent visits, Keelan had ignored them. The cats had reciprocated. And since his usual visit was made in late fall to early winter, the kittens had mostly gone to their new homes.
Keelan didn’t know it but Aiskeep had been doing a brisk trade in kittens for years. Trader Talron brought in a new cat every so often from the Sulcar with whom he still did a good trade. But these were the only cats to enter Karsten. As a result, the Aiskeep kittens sold to almost every garth and Keep in the South. But few were sold in Kars or to the North.
Keelan had never met kittens until now. Not really young ones that were no more than balls of fluff with wide eyes and small, unsteady legs as they scrambled about the room.
He did notice that there were odd wire guards across the hearths. “What are those for?”
Ciara smiled. “Kitten prevention. They love to sit and watch the sparks go upward. But without the guards sometimes a kitten tries to go up with the spark.”
She saw the boy wince as he visualized one of the enchanting fluff balls landing back into the fire. Ciara was caught by that. Keelan had always been in Kirion’s shadow, but his brother hated cats. He would not have winced at the thought; more likely he’d try it out for amusement, Ciara thought. This boy could be worth a closer look. People did change.
The next morning she managed to drift silently by as Keelan was receiving his next arms lesson. To her surprise, once more he was taking quite a beating, without complaint and with hard work as he learned. She took Harran aside later that day.
“Have you found out why he’s here? It isn’t his usual time, and he’s not indicating he intends to leave anytime soon. I think he was unhappy about something when he arrived.”
The Armsmaster nodded. “He’s let the odd word slip. Some girl he was crazy over. Apparently, Kirion took her away from him just to prove he could.”
Ciara blinked. “Is that it?”
“No, Lady. The truth is that I think the lad’s taken a good hard look at his family for the first time in his life because of that. He’s found he doesn’t even like his mother, doesn’t trust his relatives in the Keep there, and hates his brother along with not trusting him, either. He’s in a state of confusion. He’s always come second to Kirion and he’s been brought up to believe he’s less than Kirion because he’s smaller, knows less, and can’t keep up. Suddenly it’s dawning on him that anyone three years younger would have those problems. It doesn’t make him inferior.”
“No, it doesn’t. How would you rate him?”
Harran snorted. “He isn’t the stylist that his brother is. But that’s fine for formal duels. I’d back this one against Kirion in any knockdown, drag-out sword fight where the rules don’t apply. Give me a while longer with him and I might even back him in a duel as well.” He looked at her. “You know, Lady, the boy’s never had anything he could really call his own. Any time he has Kirion makes it his job to get it away again. Now Keelan’s afraid to care about anything in case he loses it.” Harran snorted. “And that mother of his sees all this but does nothing. There isn’t a cat here who isn’t a better mother than that woman.”
Ciara laughed. “I’d agree.” She strolled slowly away, thinking as she went. Later she talked to Trovagh.
“I don’t know how long he’s going to stay. I’d like him to have a pet of some kind. It seems to be what he needs, but if he leaves he won’t be able to take it. Not with the kind of things Kirion does. What do you think, Tro?”