“Hmm. We could perhaps let him have an Aiskeep horse. Say it’s on loan. That it can’t be wagered, given away, or ridden by any but Keelan. It would bring down untold wrath from Aisha, though, probably mostly on Keelan from what you say. Would he think the horse worth it?”
“I think so, but there’s another fear there. From what he’s told Harran, Kirion doesn’t just stop at taking anything Keelan has. Sometimes he ruins it in spite as well. If we let the boy have an Aiskeep horse and Kirion lames it or has it stolen, what will that do to Keelan?”
Trovagh grunted. “Umph. I see what the problem is. Leave it, love. Let’s wait; once we have an idea of how long the lad will stay, we may be able to make better plans.”
Keelan did stay. He was finding that being part of a family who were kind to you was an unexpected pleasure. It was summer, the weather mostly good enough to ride, and when it wasn’t, there was always the lessons with Harran. Imperceptibly, Keelan was being guided to learn about more than fighting. With Trovagh, he met the garthspeople, hearing their problems and listening to Trovagh’s suggestions and solutions. He saw to his surprise that there was a very real and solid affection between lord and the garth families.
He heard the garthspeople argue with Ciara, and saw she listened. It wasn’t so at Clan Iren. There if a lord spoke, a servant shut up and obeyed. He heard the story of the bandit raid from old Jontar, this time from the garth side. The pride was unmistakable. Pride not only in beating the outlaw group, but also in the leadership the garths had followed. He hid a grin at the differing attitudes. One minute Jontar was praising his lord and lady for their leadership, the next muttering about foolish children endangering themselves.
Gradually he came to understand the ties between the rulers and the ruled. This was how it should be. Mutual respect and balance. He saw that the garth houses were all warm and weatherproof. There’d be no one dead from cold or hunger here. No lord taking what he wanted and letting the people manage how they could. He considered the story of the bandits afresh. In many Keeps he could name, the bandits might have had the lord’s children with the people’s goodwill, and in some cases their active assistance.
The people certainly wouldn’t have fought like that. Not because they wanted to at least. They would have fought from terror at what their lord would do if they did not fight. Or because they were given direct orders. Or because it was the only way to survive the outlaws. They’d probably have made a mess of it, being without arms or initiative.
Weapons. That was another thing that had stunned Keelan. In Aiskeep, the garthspeople all had weapons. Not just the odd dagger, but bows and swords.
Keelan had almost leapt out of his skin the first time he realized. One of the women had come out bearing a bow and filled quiver as Trovagh rode up with his grandson. Trovagh had simply nodded.
“Deer or rabbits, Marina?”
“Rabbits, my lord.” She grinned widely. “Though I’d not hold my arrow should a deer pop up.” She strode away as Keelan gaped. Once she was out of earshot, he glanced at his grandfather.
“Will she hit anything?”
“Oh, yes. Marina’s a very good shot.” Trovagh was hiding a smile at the look on the boy’s face. Let him think over all the implications. Keelan did.
First—that if a garthswoman could carry a bow freely, either Trovagh and Ciara were incredibly casual about their own safety, or their people were incredibly trustworthy. Second—that if a woman carried a bow, presumably so did the men. If she was a good shot, so presumably were the men. Why, at a pinch Trovagh had an army of archers here, he realized. No wonder Aiskeep had never been taken. That led to him questioning Harran.
“They say Aiskeep has never fallen?”
“Humph! Don’t let that make you overconfident, lad. There’s no Keep that can’t be taken if you’re prepared to spend enough time, men, and coin. But it’s true doing so here would ruin most lords.” He took the boy out to study the walls. “See, our lord doesn’t spend his money on fancy clothes. It goes into stone; see here—and here. That’s where we strengthened it after Yvian’s death. And here, that’s where we added the curtain-wall inside the main one a few years before Pagar came to the throne in Kars.”
Keelan was amazed. The walls were massive, the most impressive structure he’d ever seen. Somehow he’d never really looked at them before. He went quiet, staying that way for days as he summed up what he was learning. He’d always felt that his clan was somehow wrong. Everyone in the Keep seemed unhappy, or happy in the wrong ways. The servants cringed when spoken to, the dogs cowered, and the inhabitants seemed to be plotting whenever they had a spare moment from drinking, or wenching.
He’d seen that no one got drunk here. Ciara and Trovagh drank wine with meals. Watered wine and only a reasonable few glasses. They treated each other with respect and a love that was evident in every word. His small sister wasn’t the brat Kirion had described. He took that one to Harran, too, who promptly and very forcefully gave the true story. Keelan was unhappily convinced by it. He knew his older brother too well not to believe. It also made sense of some of the more obscure comments Kirion had snarled while giving his version of events. Keelan snorted; no wonder his own arrival had been received with doubt.
The summer wore away slowly into an even better fall. Keelan was beginning to feel an acceptance here. As if it was home, a place to be yourself. A place where people might even like the self he was discovering. He’d heard that Kirion was barred from Aiskeep. That knowledge helped him relax further. Whatever else Kirion spoiled, he could not reach Keelan here. Gradually, Aisling had unbent toward this new brother. Ciara had spoken quietly to the girl, giving her a suggestion.
Aisling had acted on this, asking help of Keelan anytime there was something she could legitimately request.
“Keelan, could you reach that halter for me, you’re much taller?” He could and did, with a tiny feeling of pride.
“Can you open this salve, my wrists aren’t strong enough?” Keelan twisted the top open, handing it over with a pleased grin. The admiring look he received made his grin widen. Having a little sister was—why, it was pleasant. He almost strutted as he left the stable. He learned slowly that Aisling was intelligent, and interesting to talk to. That she listened to his own ideas with flattering attention. He fell into the habit of talking with her quite often. They began to ride together. Trovagh nodded to his wife at that.
“Nice job, dearling. The boy’s found Aisling to be real company once he’s got to know her. Plan one, I suppose?”
“Why not?” Ciara laughed softly. Her glance was affectionate. “He isn’t really bad, Tro. Not like Kirion. In fact, they have that in common, so Aisling tells me. Kirion’s played some pretty dangerous and vicious tricks on Keelan over the years. Aisha has always ignored it, but the boy’s been bullied within an inch of his life by his brother, spoiled rotten by his mother, and despised by just about everyone who dislikes Kirion and assumes Keelan is the same. I think a lot of his change here has been the knowledge that Kirion isn’t welcome. He feels as if Aiskeep is the one refuge he can’t be tracked to and made miserable in again.”
Trovagh agreed. “I’ll tell you something else, too, beloved. A man needs something to protect. What has the boy ever had? Anything he’s cared for his brother has taken away. That makes Keelan feel bad for losing it and helpless because he couldn’t prevent the loss. With Aisling he’s being a big brother at last.” He grinned as he looked over at Ciara. “Harran tells me the boy is really working at weapons training. He’s let it slip that if bandits come again he’s going to be sure Aisling is safe.”