Tarnoor seemed to have agreed. After Trovagh was well again his father brought him regularly to Elmsgarth to play childish games with Ciara. Although she was a year younger and slighter of bone, she still was the equal to Trovagh whose injuries had slowed his growth. She had come first to like and then to trust her friend completely, and with him his father. She watched her family laid to rest, heard the old words said. But she was afraid without quite knowing why. She had always been active. Scrapes, bruises, and occasional punishment had been hers. It was not pain of body that held her back now, but pain of heart.
The guards of Karsten were to protect the people. Why, one of Falco’s best friends was a lieutenant. The duke was there to give Justice. Where was his Justice in this? Where was the protection? If being one of the Old Blood was wicked, might not Tarnoor, even her friend Trovagh, turn against her? She could not bear it if they came at her with swords. Her heart would break before the bright metal struck home. She hovered indecisively edging first a little toward them, then back. The movement caught Trovagh’s eye as he turned. Already wise at ten he did not run toward her but spoke quietly to his father.
“Ciara’s here, but I think she’s afraid.”
“Don’t alarm her. Walk to her very slowly, speak quietly,” Tarnoor advised. He’d seen enough terrorized children in his time as a soldier. The Goddess grant none had laid hands on the lass.
Trovagh moved forward, hands held out. “Ciara, Cee? It’s Tro. My father’s here. Nothing bad will happen to you. Please come out. Cee?” She edged toward him, white eye rims showing like a terrified horse. He kept talking, reminding her of their games, their secrets, until at last he reached her. Still murmuring gently, he placed a hand on her arm and felt the long, slow shudders that rippled through the thin body. “Cee, no one will hurt you, I swear it. Please come with us.” Overcome then with fury, his treble hardened to a lighter imitation of his father’s growl. “I swear, Cee. I’ll hang the man who hurts you. If I can’t, I’ll order one of our men.” He met her eyes and suddenly the picture of his words set them both to giggling in slight hysteria.
Trovagh grinned. “I know, I know. My father gives that sort of order. But he’d say the same.” He laid a careful arm about the shaking shoulders and gently led Ciara to where Tarnoor stood.
“You would, wouldn’t you, Father? Hang the man who tried to hurt Cee, I mean?”
“Yes. If I could. Or keep him away from you at the least, child. Now sit down a minute and tell me what you can. Speak swiftly, for we must be away from here in case any of the guard return.”
She talked, the words spilling out of her like blood. It hurt to remember her mother’s orders, and how she had died. Tarnoor swore under his breath. He’d done things as a soldier under orders. But Aiskeep owed Elmsgarth a debt and he’d never been one to forget that. Nor one to harm a child, either, he added mentally. He hid a sudden smile. His son would never forgive him if anything happened to Ciara now. The boy had pledged his word his playmate would be safe. Tarnoor was not the man to see his son oathbroken.
“Can you climb up now and drop the carrysacks to us?”
Ciara nodded slowly. At his gesture she trotted up the stairs, traversed the elms, and from the cave dropped the four containers.
These were slung across the rump of Tarnoor’s mount. Then he turned as she rejoined them. This should be official.
“Your mother trusted me to care for you. Will you come with me to Aiskeep? Will you accept me as your guardian?”
Ciara’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say. The questions had an air of formality about them. Was there some special way she should answer? She stood drooping before him. Small face white with grief and exhaustion, body still shaking from the shocks of past days. She was unable to think, to speak. She could only huddle into herself, huge-eyed and silent.
Tarnoor forgot formality as he wordlessly held out his arms. She flung herself to him, weeping aloud as he held her. In that moment something passed between them. She relaxed, trusting, knowing she was again protected. Tarnoor held her enfolded, a rush of love for the child he’d been sent. His daughter now. His! And let none say differently.
2
They back together, with Ciara’s carrysacks hanging over the rump of Lord Tarnoor’s horse, while Ciara perched behind Trovagh on his smaller pony. Tarnoor had hoisted her up and wrapped her carefully in the oversized cloak.
“It’s too big for her, Father.”
“That’s no matter while she’s on the pony, boy. And I’d rather no one sees who she is while the countryside’s still so stirred up.”
At the thought of that Ciara shrank deep into the sheltering cloak. She’d seen neighbor Tylar die. Blood feuds had started from far less than a death. From beneath the enveloping hood she peered out, her eyes attuned to her own land, so that it was she who saw the sheep first.
“Oh, stop, Trovagh.”
The boy halted his pony. Ciara slipped from her perch to walk quietly toward the small huddle of ewes and lambs. Larian had released them as ordered before the guards arrived. The sheep had drifted well down the valley but kept to cover. It was growing colder toward winter. Soon they would be fed with extra rations of hay. But the odd smells of fire and blood had disturbed them. In their blacks and browns they had vanished into cover blending with the fall landscape. They recognized Ciara at once, though, crowding round to sniff hopefully at her hands.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything for you. Where’s Ysak?”
At the sound of his name the big ram shouldered his way through the small flock. She knelt to hug him gently.
“Look after them for me. We’ll return for you.” She gazed up at Tarnoor doubtfully. “We will, won’t we?”
“Yes, child. As soon as we’re home I’ll send out men to bring in everything of yours you wish. It’s likely we won’t find the horses. The guards will have taken any they found.”
“Larian let everything go before they got to us.”
“Then the men will look for them also. Get up behind Trovagh again. We must get you to Aiskeep.”
She mounted in silence looking back at the flock with Ysak as guard. Her mother had cherished each lamb. They were the only colored sheep in the whole area. Father had brought back several frail lambs from the province past Kars to the North. There, closer to the Estcarp border they had such sheep. He’d got the lambs cheaply in a deal and carried them back. With Lanlia’s care they had thrived. Now and again she had been able to buy or swap for others. Until at last the Elmsgarth flock numbered some twenty adult ewes and Ysak the ram. All were hand tamed and would come to their names.
They must be brought back to the Keep. She could not bear the thought of them being left alone, prey to men and animals. They were sturdy beasts, but in full winter they required shelter and additional food. In the back of her mind, she wondered why she was thinking so hard about the sheep. Tarnoor could have told her that it was shock, and her mind’s defenses. If she contemplated sheep she did not have to remember her family—or their deaths. Now and again he encouraged her with questions so that she hardly noticed the journey back to Aiskeep.
When at last they arrived, she was lifted from the pony. Tarnoor carried her indoors, through the feasting hall, and into a small bedroom beside Trovagh’s rooms.
“This will be yours.” He turned, speaking quietly to the plump, warmhearted Elanor, who was his distant kin. “Care for her, but touch nothing in her carrysacks, nor do anything she does not wish. See that she eats, if possible. If not, get her to drink something hot. She is uninjured but badly shocked. Ask no questions of her and be sure no one else bothers her, either.”