The Duke's Ballad

XI

They rode only another hour before Hadrann, scouting ahead, found a place he deemed suitable and safe. There they made camp. Wind Dancer vanished at once, to return, dragging a large mountain hare just as they lit their fire. The beast was a young buck, plump and already in winter white. Wind Dancer thrust the hare upon Aisling, then trotted off again. She smiled after him. Her brother took the beast from her and began the skinning and cleaning.

“Roast hare will do very well. Those filth of Kirion’s don’t seem to have had many supplies left.”

It was the witch who answered that. “They did not and kicked me the harder for it. I think in the way of that kind they had swilled and gorged all the way from Kars. By the time they took me they had eaten all the best they’d had. They stole somewhat again from my kin’s farm, but that too they wasted in riotous evenings. All that they had remaining was oatcakes and journey bread.”

“Your kin’s farm? Lady, I grieve for you. Bitter is it to lose those you love.” Hadrann was sincere and the girl knew.

She shook her head. “I too grieve for honest folk murdered. They were not close kin. My parents died while I was training. Once I would never have been permitted to return. But now the council allows a witch to return to visit friends and family once her training is completed. These kin were cousins I barely knew, but with them my parents had left their personal property that I might have it when I was free to come for such things.”

“What happened to it. Were the things burned?” Aisling was curious.

“Not so. A man of the guard who had ridden with me borrowed a packhorse from my cousin’s farm and took it with him well-laden with my parent’s legacy. It has gone to a friend. She is recently wed, and it pleased me to be able to give her these gifts.” She winced at the memory. “Now that horse may be most of what remains of a good farm. Those men burned every building. They lost six of their own to the good shooting of my kin, and they were angered. Everything is likely lost.”

Aisling, who knew the garths of Aiskeep, was the one who spoke. “I think not. No doubt there were sheep out in the pastures, if only a few. Unless you saw him die, likely the sheepdog fled to them. And your attackers may have fired all buildings, but in my experience not all burn to the ground.”

“It is true they had sheep that were pastured afar, nor did I see their dog slain, but I saw much smoke. It was a great plume against the sky as we rode for the mountains.”

“Yes, that was likely the hay barn, but houses burn less easily from no more than one flung torch.” She grinned at the witch. “I seem to recall rain only days before this. Was that not so in Estcarp also?”

The witch smiled back. “Why, yes. It was so. I remember riding in the rain to the farm and wishing my cloak let in less water. Then you think much of my kin’s home may have survived?” Her face fell again. “Oh, but they themselves are dead. I did not know them well, but I liked them and they were good, kind people.”

Hadrann gave a resigned grunt. “It is that sort that Kirion and his type most despise. But what Aisling said before is true. It’s possible the house did not burn. You may also find some of your kin live yet as well. Not everyone who falls with blood on his face is killed. Such wounds about the head or face bleed hugely but may be no more than a knockout blow.”

The witch’s face lit with hope. “It may be so. I shall pray it is. The men hustled me away quickly once I was taken. I saw only that Osland lay across his doorway without movement, blood still trickling down his face. I saw nothing of his wife or daughter.”

Keelan nodded slowly. “Then, Lady, it is not impossible more of your friends live than you know. Dead men do not bleed, and if Kirion’s filth had laid hands on the women you would have seen and heard…” He paused. “Too much.” He half-turned from his patient cooking of the hare on its improvised spit. “I would say, do not hope too greatly, but some hope is warranted. But what of you. Was there time for you to cry the alarm to your fellow witches?”

The witch hesitated, then answered. “There was. It was for that I believe that Osland fought. I could say little. Only that we were beset. Then he was struck down, and I was seized. After that they saw to it that I could work no magic nor call for further help.”

Even as she spoke Wind Dancer came plodding in, so that the discussion broke off. With him he bore another hare, large, winter white, and delectably plump. He sat smugly by Aisling as praise was showered upon him. The first hare was done. Keelan removed it carefully, divided it, then as they ate, he quickly skinned and cleaned the latest catch. That he spitted in turn.

He looked up, his face shining greasily in the firelight. “If Dancer keeps this up we’ll have enough furs for a new cloak.” He wiped his mouth and looked at the grease. “Not to mention getting fat. But with a second hare we have no need to hunt tomorrow. We shall have oatcakes for breakfast and our noon meal. Then cold roast hare and journey bread before we sleep.”

Aisling glanced across the ebbing fire. “And watch for berry bushes. If the hares up here are already in white, then the berries should be ripe for eating also.” She smacked her lips loudly, and everyone smiled.

The fire became coals, Keelan banked it for the night, and they lay down to sleep, Wind Dancer tucking himself into the curve of Aisling’s stomach. The night was quiet. The air was cool but not yet the true chill of winter. Hadrann took first watch and roused his friend short of midnight. Keelan watched until the early hours, then woke his sister. She sat after that, watching the stars fade and first light brighten the sky. Once it was light enough to see she stirred the fire.

Then she went to the small stream, filled the water pot, and hung it over the flames. In one of the saddlebags she had found a small packet of trennen leaves. It was not a large amount, but it would give them a hot pleasant drink for several mornings. The trennen tree grew mostly to the very far south of Karsten. Its leaves had a sweet lemony taste when dried then steeped in boiling water. She waited until the water boiled, added the leaves, and laid out the oatcakes. Then she roused the camp.

They ate and drank peacefully. Once they were done Aisling would have moved to ready their mounts, but Hadrann stopped her. He turned to the witch.

“Lady, are we close enough for you to call your friends? I would not have us walk into ambush, and if they are following your trail they may well be close.”

The girl nodded. “I will see if I can reach them.” Turning her back, she walked apart. With what she did safely hidden, her witch jewel could fall free from where it had lain hidden in her bodice. She took it up and concentrated. There was nothing. She hid the focus again and returned to shake her head silently. Hadrann looked at her.

“How far can your seeking travel?”

“If they were within a day’s ride I would know.”

“Then we halt at noon,” Hadrann said. “You can seek then and again when we camp.”

Aisling and Keelan had the saddled horses waiting. The line of the other unridden beasts was hitched to Keelan’s mount, and they moved off. At midday the witch could find nothing. They halted only briefly and moved off again riding steadily deeper into the coastal foothills. Keelan had handed over the line of spare mounts to his friend and ridden ahead. He came trotting back along the narrow trail.

“There’s a good place half an hour ahead. Grass for the beasts and an old fire pit. It doesn’t look to have been used this year.”

The news was cheering as was the small fire Aisling lit before setting the trennen leaves to bubbling in the water pot. The lemony scent relaxed them as they ate and drank the hot sweet liquid. With the meal done, Aisling turned to the witch.

“Try again, but if you fail maybe I can aid your search. Power can be linked. Two together can do far more than two apart.” She saw the hesitation and spoke reassuringly. “I would force nothing on you, sister. It was a suggestion only.”

The witch considered. “You speak aright. I will try alone. If I fail, then let us attempt to search together.” Her gaze met Aisling’s look. “I trust you, and I do not wish harm to come to any of you. It is unsafe for you to continue across into my own lands if friends do not await us.”

Hadrann spoke wryly. “So it would be if it were you who came with us. But your land may be the safer. If you were openly seen with us in Karsten, no matter who our friends or what our oaths, all of us would probably die. If not sooner then later, maybe after torture as Estcarp spies. Like the lady here,” he indicated Aisling. “I love my land, but I know its faults. Go now and see if you can keep us safe.”

The witch drew apart and sat, cupping her jewel secretly in her hands. She shut her eyes, reached, and then a slight satisfied smile curved her lips. Several minutes later it had curdled. She returned to the fire.

“There are those who search for me, but they have no other witch with them. I cannot speak to their leader. I have not the strength alone.”

Aisling stood quietly. “Then I shall lend you that strength. Come and let us try.”

She hid her own thoughts as they moved away from the camp. Hilarion had taught her well, although from what she had heard in Escore, the training was somewhat different from that the witches received. But she suspected they were equal in strength, she and the witch. And if the girl had her witch jewel, then Aisling had the pendant. She took her companion’s hand as they sat facing each other. The witch cupped her hand about the jewel within the cloth of her robe. Aisling spoke very gently.

“I know that you use a focus. It is safe to use it openly before me. The cloth that covers it will otherwise act to lessen the power. Look, I too use a focus.” She drew the pendant free from its secret pocket as she spoke. The witch bent to stare at it and gasped.

“Old, so old. It is what I felt when first your mind touched me. From where did it come, Lady? From what land?”

“It is a treasure of my house,” Aisling said evasively, “but let us not waste time.”

The witch nodded. Together they slid into the mists of power. Aisling reached out and found the witch. She fashioned a broad beam like a light in her mind, then held it out before her, sweeping it in slow arcs. There! It was the witch who cried out in recognition. The light narrowed, focused, and touched. In a camp many miles away a woman jerked awake. She choked off her instinctive desire to wake her company, then deliberately she lay back, opening her mind to their call but cautiously. There was a change in the familiar feel to the mind-touch.

*Lady, Lady Witch, is it you?*

*It is, good Selarra. I am unharmed and I ride with friends who saved me. One is a woman of power who aids me in speaking with you.*

*What should I do?*

A strange voice came into her head. A woman’s tones with the accent of Karsten. *Lady, the witch does not say, but I must. We who have aided her and now travel with her to bring her to safety are of Karsten. I and my brother and his friend. We slew those who had taken her, and with us we have their mounts. It was in our mind the beasts might go some way to rebuild the damage done by their owners. Look for four riders and many led mounts. We travel west and a little north. I think we may meet toward noon tomorrow.*

*Lady Witch?*

*She speaks the truth, Selarra. She and her companions are of our blood, not wholly but in part. You will greet them in all good seeming. I owe them my life and more.*

The emotion touching Aisling’s mind was doubt, but the soldier was obedient. *At your command, Lady Witch. We shall ride east and a little south.* Again the strange woman’s voice struck in.

*Not so. Stay in your camp, Selarra. You have not traveled deep into Karsten as yet. Better you do not. Let us come to you. That way if aught happens you may ride swiftly to the safety of your own lands and be within them before you can be taken.*

The witch’s tones were wistful but resigned. *She speaks for me also, Selarra. I did not think. We will come to you near evening. Do listen for our arrival.*

*I shall. Ride carefully.*

Contact thinned and was gone. In a far camp a woman lay thinking deeply. It could be that those cursed filth had somehow broken the witch to their hand. Selarra would ride very carefully indeed. Aisling opened her eyes and released the witch’s hand. At the camp she spoke quickly before laying down her blankets. Wind Dancer appeared and snuggled in. She hugged him.

“Well for you that whenever you accompany me I always take your carrysack. You’d not be so pleased with this journey if you had to run afoot.” He chirruped to her, thrust his head hard against her shoulder, and settled in to sleep. As she drifted into slumber a small picture came to her of a cat draped comfortably across a saddle while a human, recognizable as Aisling, walked and trotted beside. Aisling slept, her mouth still curved in a smile at the picture.

They rose and ate at first light. Soon after, they rode on. The day and the riders were quiet. There was no light speech nor laughter. All were apprehensive save the witch, and she felt her heart silenced by yearning. Only in Estcarp would she feel safe again. Only there, where she had a place, respect, and honor.

The others were silent because they listened. They watched for birds to fly up or the quick sideways jump of a disturbed leaper. The wind blew toward them from the northwest. None of the three doubted that Selarra would be laying an ambush just in case. It was common sense, but none of them wished to die because a soldier shot too quickly. At last, toward mid afternoon Wind Dancer leaned forward from his carrysack. His paw patted urgently at Aisling’s neck.

She halted her horse to stroke him. “What is it?” She caught a blurred picture of soldiers in hiding ahead. Aisling drew out her pendant, sinking lightly into the silver mist. With Wind Dancer still in link she caught a glimpse of those ahead. They crouched in a thicket of old brush, by a rock above the trail. It was shaped like the head of a bear, and she noted it. The sight lifted her above the land. Her eyes swept back along the trail to where she sensed her own group moved.

Wind Dancer patted her again, and for a brief instant as his paw rested on her bared skin she had the scent of strange humans in her nose: the smell of horses, harness, and meat cooking on a fire. Ais-ling held up a finger to the breeze, looked down to where the trail curved along the side of the mountain, and smiled grimly. She sent her mount forward to swing it around before the line.

“They’re ahead. No more than half an hour’s ride. They wait above the trail for us to pass so that they may take us from behind.”

The witch stared. “Do you say that Selarra plans your murder?”

“No, but she fears, I think, that you may have been broken to our purposes. Ride on ahead of us. We shall wait ten minutes then follow more slowly. She must see that you are unharmed and free.” She looked the girl full in the eyes. “We have no wish to start some foolish fight with those who seek you, but if we are attacked we will not stay our hands. Ride on and see your friend understands.”

Wordlessly the witch drew ahead as Hadrann, Aisling, and Kee-lan kept their mounts from following. Keelan eyed his sister.

“She’ll be with her friends very soon. Is there need for us to wait once she is safe?”

His sister looked down as she thought. “I do not think there is a need, but we should be sure she is safe. Let us ride after her a ways. Until we see them come to meet her. Then we can ride away… slowly.”

Hadrann laughed. “So that if they really wish to thank us they have only to ride after us more swiftly.”

“And with their hands empty of weapons,” Keelan added.

“Exactly!” Aisling said dryly. “I find that while I am of the Old Blood even as they may be, I am also Karsten’s daughter and I do not quite trust those of Estcarp.”

Hadrann reached out to take her hand. “And is it not sad that this is so, that they feel the same way. They must; why else do they seek to see us first? We are all kin, the woman of Estcarp and we three. Yet we watch each other as if we were mortal enemies. I think this is why the geas was laid.”

“Yes,” Aisling answered him softly. “Yes. It is so. When Shastro and Kirion are dead another must be duke in Kars who has no dread of the witches. Let us first put our house in order, then may we open the door to kinfolk.”

She had remained in a light rapport with the pendant since the witch had ridden ahead. From that direction Aisling felt a sudden surge of emotion. She turned to look at Hadrann and her brother.

“She had met her friends. Let us ride on until we can all be seen. Do not talk. I wish to probe ahead.”

This time her linking was stronger. Her body swayed on the horse, but her mind hovered high above the narrow winding trail. She looked down with eagle’s eyes to where a tiny figure was talking, gesturing, to a group dressed as the border patrol of Estcarp. She counted ten, a common number for a patrol. She scanned the area but could see no others. Then below her the witch and the group’s leader broke away and rode back. It was enough. Aisling fell back into her body and looked out at her companions.

“The witch is returning with another: Selarra, their leader, I believe. Let us ride to meet them.”

She felt Wind Dancer scrambling from his carrysack and halted again to let him jump free. He landed neatly and trotted past them along the trail. Ahead she heard a cry of surprise and felt a sudden fear. What if they thought him to be attacking or some creature of the dark. Her mount was thrust into a wild gallop even as the thought hit home. She rounded the bend ready to cry out for his life only to find the two women dismounted and making a great fuss over the delighted cat. Aisling laughed, slowed her horse, and advanced, her hands held out empty but for the reins.

“I see one friend knows another.” She glared down at the purring cat. “Foolish beast. I feared they might think you attacking and loose an arrow at you.” Wind Dancer looked up and chirruped a remark that was clearly sarcastic: “And a thousand fleas to you also.”

She looked higher, into laughing eyes. “I think you must be Selarra?”

“I am indeed.” The smile vanished into a serious and formal salute. “Estcarp owes a debt to you, Lady. To the House of… ?”

From behind his sister Keelan spoke, not loudly, but his voice seemed to ring against the mountains. “That is my sister, the Lady Aisling. I am Keelan, heir to Aiskeep. My friend who stands with us is Hadrann, heir to Aranskeep.” He saw the stiffening, the halted move of hand to dagger.

“What you ask yourself is true. My sister and I are sibs to Kirion, the sorcerer of Kars. But, Lady Selarra, far more than any injury to you has he injured both of us. So much so that my sister lies under a geas of the Power. We must destroy both our brother and his puppet duke or die in that attempt.”

The woman addressed turned to the witch. “Does he speak truth?”

“The Power says he does.”

“Then I may thank him with all my heart.” She beamed up at Aisling. “Join our camp, Lady. Eat and drink in friendship before we must ride hard for the border.” Keelan led up the string of spare mounts. Selarra ran a knowledgeable eye over them. “Good beasts. We will take them with still greater thanks. Now, let us not stand here in the road. You have ridden all day and would enjoy a rest I daresay.”

Hadrann assented so heartily everyone laughed. He made a comic face, stood in his stirrups, and rubbed his backside, provoking still more amusement.

“I would not do for a borderer I fear,” he sighed. “You must have softer saddles or tougher skin. Mine is almost worn through. If you have food and drink for us why are we standing about here?”

Selarra led the way back, still chuckling. At the camp her patrol was drawn up in a line. The woman swung down and nodded to them. “We are all friends here. Bring the best we have to share.” She sat indicating that her people would care for the horses. Wind Dancer marched up and sat beside her purring. There were exclamations of wonder, and he looked smug. Dancer loved to be admired.

Leather bottles of plum brandy appeared and went around the circle, then again. They were watered down with water from the good stream near the camp and there was ample for all. No one was drunk, not even the guards taking turns watching the trail below. But they smiled more swiftly, laughed more readily, and for that evening forgot that blood might be in common but country was not.

When they slept at last they slept without fear. They rose to eat and laugh again. Selarra took Aisling aside to consult. To a woman of Estcarp, a woman of the Power must be senior in any group.

“Lady, will you ride with us to our border or shall we part here?”

Aisling drew in a breath. “Best we part here. Your border is a day’s ride, but with spare mounts you can ride more swiftly. Before nightfall you can be across it and safer. We need to be back in the mountain keep of a kinsman before our guards come seeking us again.”

“Then I will thank you with all my heart. I know the witch will not have spoken of something between us. It is against their teaching.” She paused. Aisling smiled.

“But you and she are kin. There is much likeness, and she was so sure, so positive one would come searching, even across the border if need be. She said the council forbade that, but the one she knew would not care for such. You are sisters? Is power yours also?”

Selarra gave a soft snort. “Barely. But they’d have taken me for the training anyway although it’s little use I’d have been; my heart was set on being a border rider and wedding the man I loved.” Her grin was wicked. “So the night before I would have had to go with them I climbed from my window, and in the morning I was no fit witch.” Aisling giggled. “Oh, yes, there was a commotion, but they had no choice but to leave me. They took my little sister, and she is content. Her desire was always for knowledge and the witch powers. We have both our wishes, and I am content as is she.”

Aisling nodded. “What of your husband?”

“He was slain by your raiders some time ago.” She reached out taking Aisling by the shoulders and looking into her eyes. “For too many years I have hated all of Karsten. Now that Karsten has given me back my sister alive and unharmed, I will hate no longer. I saw how it rent you also. That you are kin to us and enemy too. Yet you saved her even from your own.” She drew Aisling slowly to her and kissed her cheek.

“I am Selarra Briarthorns Kin. If ever you come to my land ask for me. All that I have is yours, even to shelter against my own.”

In a rush of happiness Aisling hugged Selarra hard. “I’ll remember.” She reached deep into her memory. “And if you find any in your land who recall one, Lanlia, a healer whose grandmother was of Trasmor’s line, say to them that the Old Blood lives on in Karsten yet.”

“That I will do. But I see that the others wait for us to be done talking. Ride well, Aisling. May the light above you be strong, the way smooth, and evil always far from you on all the roads you take.” She vaulted onto her horse and trotted off down the trail after her patrol. At the first bend, she and her witch sister looked back and waved. Then there was only the sound of hooves receding along the trail.