“Ah. That is good, that is right. To help a neighbor who may be in trouble. I, too, have regard for Mistress Lanlia and the family. I shall ride with you.”
His small group hid grins with difficulty as they watched the boy struggle with having to tell a lord he wasn’t wanted.
“Um, no need, sir, my lord. We wouldn’t want to take you out of your way.”
“Nonsense. Good friends, good neighbors. Only right. Besides, there may be bodies to be buried. Can’t have them around stinking up the garth. Not right, no, no.”
“But, my lord…”
“Now then, any more and you’ll have me thinking we aren’t of use.”
The boy pasted a patently false smile on his face. “Oh, no, my lord. You do us honor.”
“Good, lad. Don’t worry, we won’t interfere with your work. You get on and help the family. Mend anything broken, yes? Dig any graves if they’re needed. I’m just here as lord to see what has happened.”
He reined his horse back a little. He and his Master at Arms exchanged glances. Both were having trouble keeping straight faces at the miserable looks ahead of them. The group had come to loot and be rich, not to dig holes, and mend fences. They were unhappily aware that under Tarnoor’s eye they might have to do just that.
“Well, Hanion?”
“Very well, my lord. I’d say they suspect nothing.”
Tarnoor nodded. The harder part would come when they reached the garth. That they did very shortly. The scruffy group ahead gaped in fury at the neat graves to one side of the house. They scattered, shouts and cries revealing their dashed hopes. Tarnoor dismounted to examine the graves. He’d left no sign as to who had buried his friends. He bowed his head for a moment praying they rested in peace. Tylar’s son dashed up to him.
“My lord, someone has been here already. The house is stripped.”
He met raised eyebrows. “So? It may be that some of the family survived. They may have departed with their goods to seek a place where thieves do not come in the night.”
He watched as the lad opened his mouth to refute most of that, then almost bit his tongue off to keep silence. Tarnoor nodded kindly. “One should not jump to conclusions,” he said pompously. “I daresay Talyo will let us know what he wishes. Until then, let no one think to claim his land too hastily.”
The young man facing him was all but chewing his tongue to shreds at this. How could he tell the lord that Talyo would let no one know anything ever again. He spoke cautiously.
“Um, my lord, has no word come to you from the Kars guard?”
“I have been traveling. What word?”
“The Old Race was thrice-horned by Duke Yvian, my lord. I fear that Elmsgarth may have been attacked by those…” He spluttered to a halt. Well, no, Tarnoor thought. You can’t very well explain it was your father who led the murderers here to make a profit. Or that you are here now to take anything you can lever up. Your kind envy anyone with more. You’d use any excuse, this horning was just convenient. Aloud he spoke casually.
“Well, in that case I think you may remove anything you find. Property or beasts. But do not damage the house. It may be of use to whomever settles the land.” He saw that thought sink in. Good. The house would be safe. “Nor would I seek to seize the land too hastily. It is possible the duke will have plans for it. He has friends at court who are landless.”
That was no more than the truth, too. There were always a crowd of eager, money-hungry hangers-on at the duke’s feet. He’d ridden with Yvian when they were both young. None of this smacked of him. If his courtiers were money-hungry, Yvian had been power-hungry. Tarnoor had backed him when the duke first ascended the throne in Kars. Not because he liked Yvian, so much as Karsten needed a stronger hand just then. Yvian had that. He had appetites, too. But they were ones his people understood. What had gone wrong to drive the duke to all this? It was utter folly but too late to mend. Tarnoor would keep his head well down until he knew the worst. Meanwhile he would look to his own defenses.
He stared out across the garth. It was quite possible Yvian would gift the land to one of his hangers-on. Or some toady of his mistress, Aldis. He’d met the lady once and would put little past her. Perhaps this was some ploy of hers? He turned to the lad again.
“There seems nothing I should do here. Should you find anything you believe I should hear about, send word.” The boy nodded, a faint smugness coating his look. He’d tell his lord nothing. If they found anything it would be theirs. Not that there was likely to be anything. Some sneaking thief had been before them all, curse him. They’d bide their time. If no one came to claim the land in a year or two, he’d take it. This had been a larger, more fertile farm than Sersgarth. Let his next brother take that. The other two could lay claim to a smaller place now also unoccupied to the north of them. They’d been there in time all right.
He licked his lips at memories of three days past. His father had come here to die. His sons had gone elsewhere and it had been others who died. His share would help to refurbish Elmsgarth again. He could at least graze the stolen beasts here. He sketched a bow to his lord and hurried away. If anyone did find anything he would not be cheated out of his share. Tarnoor gazed after him in disgust before signaling his men to close ranks. They cantered off down the road and were some distance away before Hanion spoke.
“I think they have no suspicions.”
“No. The boy’s too busy cursing over lost loot to suspect us. He thinks that I came there for the same reason. Well enough. But, Hanion, keep still the tongues in your men’s heads. It’s likely most of this will blow over. But in case it does not, I don’t want that cat’s leavings to know the child lives, or that it is Aiskeep that has his plunder.”
“No, Lord.”
Tarnoor left it at that. Hanion had been with him all of their lives. He was solidly reliable. Full of common sense and born at Aiskeep, the son of the man who had been Master at Arms to Tarnoor’s father. Its interests were his own. Aiskeep had always been clever in that. Its guard was chosen from those born and bred there. Now and again they added another family. But a guard was never chosen from that generation. His people were treated fairly, not as other lords closer to Kars corruption often dealt with their servants. Tarnoor was sure his people were loyal, but like most, they gossiped. Hanion would see to it that gossip was confined to Aiskeep.
They clattered back through the gate just as the last wain was being unloaded. Trovagh had been carried off to finish his sleep in a bed, but Elanor waited for her lord in the courtyard.
“Ciara?”
“I persuaded her to drink chicken broth, my lord. She slept then, but I know she had nightmares. She cried out and struggled in her sleep often. I fear she may be ill from the shock.”
Tarnoor sighed. “I know. Her mother was the only one hereabouts with healcraft. Do what you can. Let Trovagh visit as he wishes. She trusts him.”
Elanor nodded as he strode away. She would care for the child as her own. She, too, had liked Lanlia and trusted her. Unlike others outside the Keep Lanlia had not treated the woman as a mere servant. Elanor had indeed been maid and companion to Keep’s Lady when they arrived. But she had also been bloodkin from a branch of the family without wealth. Still, she had been well taught in all the things necessary to care for a large Keep. Seria had been delicate—and lazy. She had been more than happy for Elanor to take over the running of the Keep’s day-by-day affairs. When visiting, Lanlia had spoken to Elanor as a friend, and deferred to her knowledge of the Keep when ordering treatment for Trovagh. For her sake, Elanor would now care for Ciara. The girl was of good blood, Old Race or not. She hastily stifled another idea. That was the future. It did not do to tempt the gods.
Over the next few weeks Ciara faded, however, despite all Elanor could do. The girl slept, only to wake screaming. Elanor became aware the child was unable to keep down most of what she ate. Trovagh was gentle with his friend. He could take her mind from memories and willingly played the fool to do so whenever possible. But at last even he was afraid for her.