“Take her to bed, Tro. Stay with her. I have things to do here as yet. I’ll join you once I’m done.” He turned to his spy once they were gone with Aisling. “Tell me, what occurred? Was Kirion there?”
The tall, scarred man he questioned nodded. “He was there, Lord. But it was to Ruart’s Keep they took her.” He told the tale as he knew it from the beginning. “Likely I can’t go back. I’ve racked my brains and can think of no tale they’d swallow. A pity.”
“A pity as you say. But with what you’ve discovered over the time I can get another into Ruart’s confidence. I’d rather have her back safe than bring down that pair if I must choose. As for you, a gift from her kin.” He thrust a fat purse into the man’s hand. “I still have work for you though. Just of a different kind.” The spy found he was holding a roll of parchment.
“What’s this, Lord?”
“Your own land, the purse will stock it.” He smothered protest. “No! It’s a wage. You’ll understand when you see where the holding lies. I’ll risk you no further with Ruart, but there’ll be others you can shelter. Go now and my thanks go with you. Send word once your garth is established.”
He heard the hooves plod away and sighed. A very good man. He could still use him as he’d said. He looked up at the stars. Thank the Gods for good men when so many bad ones were nearby.
He walked slowly back inside. It was late and he was an old man. Too old for many more nights like this. He halted at the room where Aisling lay. She still slept. Ah, well. The tale would be the same in the morning. He retired to sleep himself after leaving orders with those he trusted. It was always better to be careful than regretful.
Aisling woke in her own bed early. She looked around as events rushed back into her mind. Her grandmother slept on a bed beside her. Ciara’s face was tired, she looked older than Aisling had ever seen her appear before.
On the table between them rested a jug of fruit juice, a platter of bread and cheese. Aisling ate, drank, and lay back once more. She fell asleep almost before she had pulled the covers up.
This time she woke soon after sunhigh. Beside her Ciara stirred, turning to smile at her granddaughter.
“Bright sun to you, dearling. Are you hungry again?”
Aisling was suddenly aware that she was starving. “Yes. Where’s Grandfather Tro?”
“Sleeping. He’ll come now that you’re awake. Just let me call for something to eat for us all.”
She did so. Trovagh and Geavon arrived with the meal, Keelan strode in a few minutes later to hug his sister savagely.
“Praise Cup and Flame you are unhurt. Something that will not be said for very long about that pair who took you.”
Aisling eyed him over a succulent honey-coated bun. “If you’re thinking of the two servants, you can forget them. Ruart poisoned them. I’m not sure why. It might have been so he didn’t have to pay. I know he took the money back when they were dead.”
Geavon grunted. “More likely to make sure they couldn’t give evidence against him. Shandro is duke. Kirion may have a lot of influence there, but the duke would have to listen if we made a formal complaint through the shrine at Kars.” His mouth stretched into an unpleasant smile. “His own clan don’t much like Ruart. If we took a complaint to Kars courts about this, the clan wouldn’t support him.”
Ciara shook her head. “We can’t afford to risk that and well you know it. Opening a bag usually lets all the cats out that are inside, not just the one. Shandro fears the Old Race about as much as he likes Ruart. Tro and I have talked this over. We shall leave for Aiskeep tomorrow. As soon as we found Aisling gone, I sent a swift rider relay to the Keep. Half our men ride hither, Harran leading them.” She touched Geavon’s arm gently. “No reflection on you, kinsman. If you can provide a few of your men to escort us until we meet those who ride to our aid, I would be grateful.”
Geavon agreed without protest. “But leave it to me to deal with Ruart should he return to speak of a betrothal again.”
Trovagh smiled wryly. “I do not think he will be so bold. But yes, to you the handling of him if he dares.”
The following day they rode out without fuss at first light. Geavon’s men, headed by his grandson, escorted them, acting as if they expected bandit hordes to descend ravening at any moment. Harran met them halfway to Aiskeep. Aisling was delighted to see him. She listened to all the small news of home before Keelan interrupted urgently.
“Did Shosho return, Harran?”
The Armsmaster grinned. “She did indeed, Lord Keelan. Where she had been I know not. What she had done there I can tell you. She’s heavy in kitten. She seems well enough but she is missing you, I believe.”
Keelan gulped, looking hopefully across at his grandmother. It would be Shosho’s first litter, and his cat was already four. He knew it could be dangerous for a cat to bear kittens for the first time when she was older. Ciara nodded to him.
“I’ll look her over at once when we’re back at Aiskeep. Don’t worry. Most cats kitten easily. They know what to do, they’ve been doing it without humans for a very long time.”
Privately she wondered. No use telling the boy all that could go wrong, though. They’d be home soon enough. She stretched, she was so tired. Her own bed at Aiskeep with Tro beside her would look wonderful. For now they’d have to make do with the tent.
Being home was one of the best things in the world, Ciara thought a week later. Of course there were problems. Shosho would kitten any day now and Ciara didn’t like the look of things there. Then there was Aisling. Using her gift so frantically to open that door seemed to have started something.
Twice Aisling had given someone a shock. Keelan had been the first, the day after they got back. The girl had been tearing from place to place and finally Keelan had seized her hands and whirled her around.
“Slow down, you’re making me giddy.” Then he’d released her with a surprised yelp. “Ouch! What was that for?”
Ciara had been close enough to see silver fire glimmer briefly about their clasped hands. Aisling had been upset and apologetic. It had just happened, she insisted. She hadn’t willed it, hadn’t even been thinking of it. Two days later it had happened again when Trovagh hugged her good night.
Ciara had wondered if it was some kind of overflow effect. Use it or it uses itself. She had taken her granddaughter out quietly the next morning at dawn. There she’d thrown most of the work of healing a sick lamb onto Aisling. It appeared to have worked.
For a few days. But today Ciara had hugged her good morning and felt the sudden flare. There seemed to be a circle. Use the power to damp it down. But the more it’s used the faster it builds. The more you damp it down with use, the faster it returns and at higher levels.
Ciara had an unpleasant feeling that it could end in Aisling burning up. There must be controls, but she’d never learned them. Those in Karsten who might have known and been able to teach were gone, either by death or departure.
Ciara sighed. Life! Just whenever you thought things were going better, something came along to prove you wrong. From the sound of pounding footsteps racing down the passage toward her room, that was about to be verified. Keelan arrived through the door opening already yelling.
“Come quick, come quick, Shosho’s started.”
The small cat had. What was worse, Ciara thought an hour later, they did have a real problem. From careful investigation she could find only one kitten present. It was huge. Keelan was getting under her feet, Aisling had vanished. And right now Ciara wanted one and not the other.
“Keelan, listen to me. I need Aisling. Go and find her as fast as you can.”
That got him out of the way. Ciara soothed Shosho. “Steady, my sweet. I don’t know what you found out in the hills but you should have thought twice. I know what needs to be done, but I need Aisling’s power to do it. Pray Cup and Flame she hasn’t used up her gift on something already.”
Keelan arrived back with Aisling in tow. “I found her. What now?”
br />
Ciara had had enough. “Now, my lad, you go out to the stables. I want a comfortable nesting box for Shosho and her baby when it arrives. Make a step half height at the door. That way she can go out but the kitten will stay in for a few weeks. Pad it inside with carded wool. Eshwin’s garth may spare you some. When you get that done I want a fire in the smaller hall and water heated there. Now get on with it.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll get it done at once.” He was bustling out of the door leaving Ciara and Aisling in peace.
Aisling grinned. “How much of that is necessary?”
“Well, the nesting box will be useful. But Elanor probably has carded wool. He doesn’t have to go half an hour’s ride to find that.”
“What about hot water, we don’t need that, do we?”
Ciara snorted inelegantly. “Oh, yes we do. Once we’re finished here we’ll all enjoy a rest and a hot drink.” Aisling giggled. “Now, I want you to relax, slide into the mists, and let me use your power. You can watch what I do. But try not to tighten up or stop the outflow. I know what needs doing, but I just don’t have enough of my own gift. If Shosho dies, Keelan will be devastated. Are you willing to do this?”
“Of course.”
“Then begin.” She watched Aisling’s breathing slow. She reached out to take the young hand, placing it on her shoulder, positioning the girl just behind her. “Keep your hand there until I say you can remove it.”
She called her own mists, dropping into them with the ease of long familiarity. She turned her concentration to the cat. The kitten lay in the right position, it was just too large to be birthed normally.
What she was about to do was unorthodox. But it was all she could think of. She drew on Aisling’s power, mind sinking deeper into the small cat’s tissues. She gathered the process up, she must do this and this. Then she drew hard on her granddaughter’s gift.
The silver mist came to her calling, and poured into the cat. Under that demand, that impact of power, tissues became elastic, almost fluid. They stretched far beyond normal. She held them, then nudged the contractions.
Shosho strained. Slowly her kitten appeared; it gasped, squirmed, and came free. Ciara reached again, drawing more power. They might pay for this once she was done, but for now she would use what they had. She poured more power into the stretched tissues as they returned to normal slowly, then she added strength to the exhausted cat. She monitored her granddaughter. The girl was power-drained but not exhausted. Ciara was the same.
It was well. Finally she withdrew, touching Aisling’s hand.
“You can let go now.”
Aisling did so, folding abruptly to the rug. “Phew. I didn’t know power could be combined like that.”
Ciara’s voice was dry. “Nor did I, but we had to do something. I thought I’d heard my grandmother say once that this was possible. I was very young so I could have misheard.” Her voice was suddenly wistful. “We lost so much when Yvian ran mad. My own mother’s gift was small and only for healcraft. But she at least was trained. She’d begun to teach me a little, but sometimes it seems that with less than full-blood the gift comes later. I’d barely begun to learn before everything was gone.”
And that, she thought silently, may be your trouble. You read as a woman of the Power to me—full power. But it’s come late, you’re untrained, and I know of no one who may help. But I do also recall Grandmother saying that was dangerous to the one untrained where the power comes suddenly. There’s no growing into it.
She thrust away her fears, helping Shosho care for the kitten. As his fur dried Ciara admired him. But looking down at the squeaking kitten she wondered again who Shosho had found as a mate.
The kit was large. Dried now, fur fluffed, he looked even bigger. It was impossible to believe Shosho had carried him. Why he was almost half the size of the small cat. Nor was he the usual color or markings. His fur had dried a sort of brownish-yellow. There was a dark-furred V on his forehead, and another like a necklace upon his breast.
The Aiskeep cats were all of Sulcar breeding, tabbies in differing shades but mainly black or silver. Their heads were broad and their bodies stocky. The kitten’s head was more wedge-shaped, his body longer and leaner even so new born. Ciara thought it likely that fully grown he’d be near twice normal size.
Keelan returned then, agog to admire his cat and her achievement. He gaped at the kitten incredulously.
“It’s huge! Is Shosho all right, will she have enough milk for it? I have the box for them, and the fire’s blazing downstairs.”
Ciara eased her shoulders, “Good. Put them in the box and leave them. Shosho would like a bit of peace and privacy now. Stay away for a couple of hours. You can come down with us and make us something to drink. I’m not as young as I was for this sort of afternoon.”
The kitten thrived. Shosho had milk but the baby turned to meat earlier than usual. He grew fast. In four months, he was as large as any cat at Aiskeep. At the same time he made his choice of human. To Aisling’s pleasure it fell on her.
“I don’t know what to call him, though.” She giggled, “Maybe I should leave it up to him.” She nudged the kitten sprawled on her stomach. “What do you want to be called? Half-a-Horse might be appropriate.”
The kitten sat up with dignity. Into Aisling’s surprised mind came a picture. The kitten whirled in pursuit of a leaf. Spun, leaping high into the air to land with soft paws on the captured prey. Wind ruffled his fur. He leaped at the breeze as it passed, patting out with hopeful paws. Dancing with the stir of air. The girl smiled, touching the soft fur between his ears.
“Wind-Dancer? I’ll call you Dancer for short.” The kitten purred approval.
Ciara watched. She, too, had seen. That was interesting. She could receive some emotions from animals as could her granddaughter. But that had been more, a strong, clear picture in reply to a question. More and more she wondered who or what Shosho had found as mate.
When Dancer was a year old, Aisling’s gift began to wear on her. At the same time Kirion made another attempt to lay hands on his sister. His studies were no longer gray. Now they were black sorcery. He’d discovered ways to power yet he remained cautious. He had also learned too many of the things that might happen to those who were casual.
Ruart, too, had not forgotten Aisling. The girl was seventeen. He’d offered marriage once. Ruart had been ill that winter. For the first time he’d realized that no one lives forever. A man should leave sons behind him. To do that he needed a respectable wife of good family. Aisling would be just right.
To the fury of all at Aiskeep, he renewed his offer. It was rejected firmly. Then two weeks later as Aisling rode alone in the upper valley, two men appeared from the trees. She was seized. In her terror she drew on her gift without restraint. One man died on the spot, the other a day later. But he survived long enough to confirm that Kirion had been his master.
Trovagh called the family together. “I have bad news. Geavon writes that Shandro is favoring Ruart more and more. He has enough influence lately to receive almost anything he asks to have.
“We have just sent word to Ruart that Aisling refuses him. How long before the duke intervenes and insists? Aiskeep can still refuse, will still refuse. But what will Shandro do if he is openly flouted?”
Ciara glanced around. “There is also Kirion. As he has shown us, there are ways into Aiskeep other than the main gates. I doubt many men could enter through the hills as that pair did. But what if we were held in siege at the gates, while others attacked in a steady pattern of twos and threes through the hill tracks? We might not be taken by storm through the gates, but we could be worn down over time.”
Trovagh nodded. “For that reason I plan to fill the lower storerooms again. Trader Talron arrives in three days. Aiskeep has always held siege supplies, but I will double them.”
“We pay with what, my love?” Ciara questioned.
“With horses of the Aiskeep strain. Talron has a Sulcar master who will take them
aboard to sell in Es City. If we are besieged, we will be unlikely to sell our beasts, so I am stripping the herd. All trained mounts will go save for one mount for each of us.”
Elanor had been carried down to join them. She was in her nineties but while frail of body, her mind was as keen as ever.
“Sell all the Keep’s ordinary horses, too, Tro,” she said now. “They eat as much as the better beasts. Replace them with the Torgian strain as we train the young ones.”
Trovagh agreed. It was something he had not thought about. The Keep had always used ordinary beasts for the work in harness.
His glance touched Aisling. She’d been so quiet lately, ever since she’d killed the men who would have stolen her. He thought the worst of it for the child was that she had not intended to strike. Now she was afraid to touch or allow the touch of those she loved. Ciara said that the girl alternated between refusing to use her overflowing power until her skin shone with it—or using it over and over until she was dangerously exhausted.
Keelan moved to the table to pour wine. He didn’t like any of this. His brother Kirion was a danger to Aisling. Ruart would be more easily handled. Shandro would sit at Aiskeep’s gates for months, maybe a year. Once he found what a siege cost, he’d think up some reason to save his reputation and leave, and if he didn’t, the merchants would have something to say about it. They wouldn’t appreciate being taxed to pay for Ruart’s choice of wives.
But Kirion would cling on. There’d be more of his creatures slipping into the upper valley. More people dead. Knowing Kirion, it wouldn’t be long before he hit on the idea of hostages. What would that do to Aisling?
If she refused to go to Kirion and people died for that? If she went and Kirion could use her power for himself and his sorceries? How long would it be before Aisling came to a conclusion that her own death would solve everything for those she loved?
She’d been hard hit by the death of two men—men who, Keelan thought, were probably better dead for the sake of others anyhow. The one who’d survived most of a day had talked deliriously. His descriptions of what his master had done with those stolen had almost made Keelan sick. The brute had been Kirion’s supplier and had a lot to tell.