The Duke's Ballad

XII

Aisling sat her mount thinking. Then she glanced down at Wind Dancer as he sat placidly waiting for them to move. He was thinking of roast mountain hare. So was Aisling but for other reasons. She turned her horse to stare about her. Excellent country for hares. They’d come back to those areas twisted by the Turning. Pockets of grass and clumps of brush had grown up quickly. The hares lived well.

They would be the perfect excuse for the wanderings of Aisling and her companions. Wind Dancer had already provided several winter-white hares. If they could find more they would show them off at Trevalyn Keep. She looked down at the big cat and projected the feel of hare, the delight in the hunt, and the taste of prey. Wind Dancer licked his lips and moved off. Aisling nudged her mount to follow, leaving the reins loose as she removed and strung her bow.

“What are you up to?” Keelan queried.

“The guards who return for us will find out we did not go straight to the keep. They’ll wonder, and where they wonder they’ll talk. But what if we had a good excuse, one that any guard would think only reasonable for the nobility.”

Hadrann smiled. “Such as?”

“Winter-white furs. For a cloak. Down in the lowlands or South the hares won’t turn white for another couple of months. Up here they are already. What if we hunt all day and again tomorrow. If we come back with a heap of furs, won’t they believe that?”

The men nodded. “They’ll think it quite sensible,” her brother said slowly. “A whole cloak for you and trimming for us if we get enough.”

Hadrann agreed. “We save the skinned and cleaned hares too. It’s chill up here. There’s already small patches of snow in the shadows. We can be at the keep in three days. The hares will be fine, and the whole place can eat roast hare. That will ensure us a most hearty welcome.”

“It’ll ensure they believe us too,” Aisling said. From hoof level Wind Dancer chirruped impatiently. If they were hunting let them get on with it. She broke off to laugh and signaled him. “Go then, move ahead of us. Catch what you can and beware of arrows.”

He trotted off, moving silently in long sweeping zigzags across their front. The three humans spread out in a line, each with bow at the ready. The first hare was young and nervous. He panicked, ran, and died abruptly. Keelan dismounted to pick up the body. He dropped back to skin and clean the beast before tucking body and pelt in a saddlebag, then he trotted his mount to rejoin the line.

Wind Dancer caught the next two hares, both older wilier beasts that chose to sit tight from the riders, missing the feline who led them. Wind Dancer did not miss. As they hunted they were also working their way back along the trail but parallel to it. By nightfall they had killed five more hares and made a comfortable camp. Keelan had broken off the hunt to ride ahead and light the fire, start food, and prepare hot drinks.

He’d also found a willow from which he could cut springy switches. These were curved in a circle and tied. The hare skins were stretched over them and scraped as the friends sat talking. Aisling plaited fine grass rope. They’d tie the stretched skins in flat stacks to the backs of their saddles. The horses wouldn’t approve, but that was too bad.

The next morning Wind Dancer was tucked into his carrysack, and they rode hard, pushing their tough little horses into early afternoon, when they made camp. Wind Dancer emerged from his carry-sack and stretched luxuriantly. Aisling received a picture of hares followed by other pictures. She giggled.

“Wind Dancer says we’re ruining him one way or another. Either he’ll have all his fur worn off in the carrysack or his pads worn off hunting hares.” The big cat marched off down the slope looking back to see they followed.

Keelan had halted them here because he’d seen signs of hares. He’d been right. Hares seemed to explode from the grass almost every time Wind Dancer swept out to look. They shot until there was no more room in the sacks to carry the skins and carcasses. When they returned to the camp, Hadrann looked over their spoils.

“Wonderful.” His expression turned serious. “You know, we could do worse than to return here to this spot with a packhorse once our guards reach us again. The court wouldn’t come into land this rough.”

“Or this close to the border,” Keelan noted.

“True. But they won’t be averse to a few gifts of this fur: enough to make Shastro a cloak for instance and fur trim for Aisling to give to a few of the ladies. Maybe a share in the meat to a friend or two? Hare meat will keep well in this weather, and a hare should be hung for some days anyhow.”

“And I can pick up the latest gossip at the same time as I offer meat and skins,” Aisling added. “Yes. If we sent the carriage back without us, hunted here, then rode direct for Kars early in the morning we’d be there well before the meat went bad. We could keep a couple of guards with us to do the skinning and cleaning and stake out the skins. If we hunt for a couple of days then ride hard for Kars we could easily be back in one day.”

She paused, then spoke thoughtfully. “It would also keep our guards away from the Trevalyn servants. That way they’d not start to wondering or gossiping about us. It would be safer for us all.”

Hadrann hauled out one of the skins he’d taken. He studied it closely, parting the fur and looking at it in various angles. “They’re good furs, and Shastro hates to spend money if he can get something free. He’d love enough of these for a cloak. But I’d better present it. We still don’t want him to pay too much attention to Aisling in case Kirion starts noticing her too.”

“So maybe I should give him the furs,” Keelan said thoughtfully. “Kirion could put that down to my trying to get into the duke’s favor. He already knows all about me. He’ll just sneer about it to Shastro and forget it.”

Aisling nodded. “That makes sense. Rann, if you’ll share out some of the meat, I’ll gift a few of the spare furs.” She stared around the darkening landscape. “The hares are breeding too well anyhow. I’ve seen dangerously many gnawed tree trunks. A good many of the animals will die when the real winter comes. So if we hunt them hard now we’ll only be getting what wouldn’t survive winter anyway. A couple of packhorses would be suitable. If we sent the carriage back slowly with only one pair we could use the other pair for that.”

Once the fire had died to coals they slept peacefully. Hadrann took first watch. The morning was bright and clear, chill but it would warm a little later. Keelan slapped his hands together briskly while preparing breakfast. They ate quickly and were saddled and away soon after. They reached the area of their fight with Kirion’s men by early afternoon, before the sun was too low in the sky. Aisling checked the hollow. Foxes and wolves had found the bodies, which were mostly eaten down now to bones and tattered rags of clothing.

She choked down her feelings as she looked on what was left of the men she’d had a share in slaying. She had a job to do here: anything that would identify the bodies must be gathered and taken away. Apart from that, it would be folly to leave anything of value that could be used. The remains were revolting to her, but it was something that had to be done.

Aisling began, saying nothing as her brother and her friend moved to help her, accepting her right to do at least a portion of the task herself. They moved from body to body, swiftly gathering coins, silver buckles, and anything else that was of value or that might identify the dead. The girl locked herself into the task. It must be done, and she would do her share.

Once they were finished, they moved away from the bodies, and the gleanings were piled into Aisling’s hands. She tucked them all into a saddlebag, pausing to look down thoughtfully at some of the items.

“Rann, some of this we’ll have to hide. We can’t keep it in case anyone finds us with it. Kirion would love to know we’d killed his men and freed a witch. I’ve kept apart the bits that could identify his men. What do we do with them?”

“I’m older than you.” It was Keelan’s voice, and Aisling blinked at him in puzzlement.

“By six years. So?”

“So, I’ve visited Jam before. The old keep owners mined in a couple of places to the west of the keep. They struck water and gave up, but the mine shafts are still there. Jam fenced them off to stop stock falling in, that’s all.”

Aisling’s face lit with understanding. “If we drop these bits and pieces down the shafts they aren’t likely to be found. Which way, Kee?”

“Give them to me, and I’ll do it. You two keep checking, but we did check for anything like that from the others toward the road. I think this precious pair must have been the ones Kirion trusted, as much as he’d ever trust anyone out of his sight.”

He received the small handful of belongings from Aisling and trotted away. Hadrann and Aisling moved off slowly. They found the sites of the fight and again the bodies were no more than scattered bones. Aisling collected coins, buckles, cheap weapons, and one good dagger. She looked over the weapons with Hadrann.

“We can sell everything but that knife. None of the swords or other daggers are more than the basic stuff sold in the market. That dagger has no identifying marks, but if anyone’s seen it before they’d recognize it.”

“I should think they would,” Aisling said dryly. “It has Kirion’s crest on the hilt. He must have given it to the leader as a token, maybe as proof to someone else that the man came from my dear brother. We have to be rid of it, but before we do that I’ll have to check it over. Knowing Kirion there’s a good chance it’s sealed to him in some way. I just wish we’d found the damned thing earlier.”

Hadrann spoke comfortingly. “I doubt he’s even started to wonder about them yet. He wouldn’t expect to take a suitable captive at once, so he’d have given them time. I’ll go up the trail a little way and stand guard. Wind Dancer can go down trail. You get that thing checked and cleared. Then Kee can ride back and dump it. He won’t like having to make the trip again but better safe than ambushed.”

Aisling sat on the chill ground. Her mount cropped grass peacefully nearby as she took the dagger into her hands. She sensed nothing, but then Kirion wasn’t a novice. She probed deeper. Ah! There! She considered the spell, sealed in the owner’s blood, and wrinkled her nose in disgust. Typical of Kirion.

She wove a masking spell in her mind, spoke the words, and allowed the result to settle like a smothering curtain over the knife. That should do it. Kirion would have felt nothing since the spell was still intact, but if he scried for the owner, he’d see nothing. If the weapon was disposed of where it could not be easily retrieved, Kirion should never know what had happened to the owner or the men with him.

She stood looking over the now innocuous weapon. A pity to throw away a good knife, but it was too easily identified. She whistled, a long clear note and soon heard hoofbeats as Hadrann returned. Wind Dancer crawled in and sat purring. She held the dagger down for him to sniff, and his purr was confirmation. The knife was fully cloaked. She laid down the carrysack, Wind Dancer crawled in, and Aisling mounted her horse, settling the carrysack across her shoulders.

They rode slowly up the trail until Keelan joined them with a clatter. He groaned when told the dagger must also be disposed of in the same place but rode off with it. He rejoined them just short of the keep. After that all went as they’d hoped. Jam greeted them with genuine pleasure. The hare carcasses went to the great kitchen and appeared as roast hare, minced and spiced hare, and hare pie over the next few evenings. The guards arrived a few days later, complete with additional members and the carriage.

They reported that the badly injured man was recovering, and the city healer who had attended him had been loud in Aisling’s praise. His kinsmen were gruff but honest in their thanks to the “Lady Murna.” Aisling accepted their gratitude gently. She casually mentioned their hare hunting and also saw to it that they saw the furs and heard of the feasts the keep had enjoyed.

“My cousin and I and our friend are also considering a second such hunt. We would like to do even better this time… if you will assist us by taking the carriage back?”

“Lady, I chose good men. They will take your carriage back safely. My brother and I will remain with you if it be your will. Both of us can skin and clean and stretch furs. They’ll not be spoiled in our hands. And we can take it in turns to stand guard. We owe a debt for our cousin, Lady. It would please us to pay it.”

Aisling smiled and agreed. She’d done no more than she would have done for any man of Aiskeep, but such attentions to one’s people were rarer in the city. If the man felt he owed a debt, then it would be wrong to deny it.

The hunting was good. Wisely Hadrann chose a system that kept the two guards in camp working on the game brought back to them in turn by Hadrann, Aisling, or Keelan. That first day they hunted hares. Between their successes and those of the cat they had a heap of furs and meat by day’s end.

Aisling took up five of the plump bodies and walked away. Hadrann turned to the interested guards. “It will be moonlight, and I see well. We’ll stake these out and see if the foxes that come for them have changed coats as yet. If so, then we may have more work for you.

The foxes had. The first Aisling shot was winter white with only a black tail tip. Keelan was acting as runner with the dead beasts and at the same time making sure the guards did not leave. Out in the night around a mountain shoulder Aisling was using witch light. It did not alarm the foxes who came to the bait, but both she and Hadrann could see their prey clearly. They shot only those they could identify as not quite full grown and hence probably still unmated. There were a number of them, so that Keelan and the guards were kept busy.

When they were done they had returned fifteen foxes to the camp. Keelan had brought back the discarded carcasses as the foxes were skinned, and the constant supply of those ensured more foxes continually arrived to feast. But after fifteen Aisling spoke softly.

“Enough, I think. There’s sufficient to make the guard think we had very good hunting. More and they’ll wonder.”

Hadrann shrugged. “That’s true. Better to take no chances. Thus far it looks as if we’ve got away with everything we’ve done out here. We will share out the furs slowly. By the time anyone realizes how many we took, the mountains will be snowed in.”

“What of the hare meat?”

Keelan, who’d just returned to them, spoke up. “We send one of the guards back to Trevalyn with some of it. He can catch up with us. We send a message to Jam that the meat we’re sending him is a midwinter gift from us since we won’t be there. We send a couple of the fox furs to him too and four of the hare furs. Does that seem good?” It did, and when they reached camp again the guard was dispatched.

They left mid-morning after sleeping well. The ride back to Kars was uneventful. The second guard caught up with them that afternoon, and by nightfall they were entering the main gate of Kars city. They went straight to their rooms, Aisling immediately calling for hot baths, hot food and drinks, and a warmed bed. Wind Dancer, who’d slept in his carrysack all the way, vanished to hunt mice. They’d be a pleasant change from hares.

Hadrann took the great heap of furs to a tanner. They’d been rough dried on the stretchers and were of fine quality. The tanner was very impressed. Yes, he could begin working on them at once. Certainly he would treat them as the valuables they were. Hadrann settled to haggle over the tanning price. With that done he went back to the stable to split hares.

One third to their own tables. One third each to Aisling and her brother, who would quietly share them out to friends and acquaintances. By late evening a number of diners were extolling the generosity of Aiskeep and Aranskeep. That included Shastro’s cook, a middle-aged woman who was tyrannical in her domain. Her cooking and the smooth way in which she ran the duke’s household affairs allowed her license in his eyes. Where she was pleased, he was pleased to listen.

The next night the three friends dined with him. Shastro was merry, inquiring after their hunting, Jam of Trevalyn keep, and if there had been any trouble on their journey. Hadrann laughed at the latter.

“Oh, indeed, my Lord Duke. Some scruffy collection of bandits, but we killed most of them, and I suspect the others simply ran. We took the horses we found to go hunting. It was all most amusing.”

“There was nothing to say they were from Estcarp?”

Hadrann looked horrified. “Cup and Flames preserve us all. No, my Lord Duke. They rode a scrubby lot of ponies of our own mountain breed. We did look over a few of the bodies briefly. They had Karsten weapons—cheap rubbish too—Karsten clothing, and no looks in common with any of Estcarp I’ve ever seen. No, I think them no more than a band of wolfsheads such as even Karsten can breed, a vicious-looking bunch.”

He laughed. “No, my Lord Duke. They were not so formidable. I myself shot a couple. Even my cousin here with her lady’s bow was able to strike one down. My young friend also slew his share. We counted half a dozen dead but did not bother to search far for any others.” He laughed again. “If any lived I would think them running still. It was fair sport. If only you had been with us, sire, no doubt the score would have been higher against them.”

Shastro flushed in flattered pleasure before asking more questions. Hadrann answered casually. It would be Kirion’s hand behind this. The guards had talked, and Kirion suspected that the bandits had been his men trying to reach Kars in a hurry but he only suspected. There was no proof, and if Hadrann and his friends kept their heads… Well, they’d keep their heads. Shastro was asking to see the looted weapons.

“Of course, my Lord Duke. I dumped them in a bundle in my outer room. Cousin Murna will be pleased to fetch them for you.”

Shastro disclaimed any wish to disturb the lady. A servant should go. Hadrann gracefully agreed. Let the servant do that. There was nothing else to find, and he would add an item or two Shastro would find interesting. Several years back Hadrann had chanced across a body and a couple of items it bore. A small voice was saying that now was the time to use the trinkets.

When the servant returned, Hadrann took the bundle from him, allowing it to unroll across the floor. Plain, poor-quality swords, knives, and a shabby bow jumbled across the sheared sheepskin carpets. Shastro gave a sharp exclamation and pounced.

“This trinket, it was found on one of them?” He held up a jewel. It was a pale flawed amethyst held in a circle of plaited silver. It was of small value, but someone had spent time carving the gem into the likeness of a cup with flames surrounding it. The work was well done, and the trinket pleasant to look upon. Hadrann stared at it in apparent surprise.

“Why, yes, my Lord Duke. It came from one I thought to be their second-in-command.” He laughed. “If such a wrangle-tangle group could be said to have a command.” He stooped, thrusting the cheap weaponry aside. “The man had this on him also.” He picked up another small item and proffered it to Shastro, who almost drew back. At Hadrann’s blink of surprise the duke collected himself and took it in slender fingers.

“Yes, yes. Very interesting. I wonder where the wretch obtained them?” There was something in his voice that said he was indeed wondering. Aisling craned to see. Another trinket. Probably from the same hand. This time a small tawny cat’s eye carved into the shape of a sitting cat. It was attractive without being valuable, and Aisling cried out in delight. Shastro turned and forced a smile.

“My dear Lady. You find it pleases you, then it is yours.” He pressed it into her hand. “Say nothing. Count it as some small recompense for a fine meal and the destruction of a dangerous band.” But his voice was tense, and in one white-knuckled hand he clenched the amethyst trinket. After that he angled to bring the meal and the evening to a swift close. There was a half-worried half-considering look in his eyes. Aisling knew it had something to do with the trinkets. She reined in her impatience until they were able to bid the duke an elaborate farewell. Once back in their suite she pounced on Hadrann.

“I did the searching of some of those we killed,” she said precisely. “And of the others, I saw all you gleaned from their persons. None of them had those pretties on them. From where did they come and why did the sight of them so distress Shastro? What game are you playing and why were we not let into it?” From his comfortable sprawl on the couch Keelan seconded her words.

Hadrann looked bleak. “The first and last questions are easily answered. I added the trinkets to the bundle as I unrolled it. I did not mention them to you since I had no idea of using them until Shastro gave me the opportunity, and once I thought of it I had no chance to speak to you apart.” His tones grew harsher. “As for whence they came and what the game was, that is a long tale, but I can tell it in brief.” He poured them glasses of wine, drank deeply of his own, and refilled it.

“You know Shastro came from the city’s low quarter and there he had two cousins whom he loved deeply. The man was his best friend, and it was whispered that the girl was his lover. They vanished while traveling with a carriage and driver. Shastro searched. Indeed he all but had the city and land about it torn apart by his men in the year of the warhorse. Then he stopped, and it was as if they had never been. There was a rumor they had been found. Do you not recall, Keelan?”

“Vaguely. I was not at court that year. Kirion was though. It was after that he consolidated his power over Shastro.”

“Exactly.” He looked at them. “I was hunting the year after the cousins vanished, being sick of the court and fawning men. It was nigh a year and a half since the two were missed. I found a place where a carriage had been ambushed. Out of interest I tracked what had occurred. I found a body, bones by then, clearly found before me since foxes do not carry away weapons and coins, and there were signs another body had been removed. I was caught up in my hunt by then, so I tracked on. There were women’s clothes, shreds of them, in the wrecked and hidden carriage. What clothing was left after the weather and small creatures.”

“And you found her?” Aisling leaned forward. “It was she who had my trinket and the other one you used?”

“It was. I found her bones huddled deep into a small crack in the rock. It was early winter when they went missing. I fear she died of exposure, afraid to leave her shelter until she was too weak to struggle forth. She may also have suffered some injury, enough to weaken her before even the cold struck home. Those who searched had found the carriage, the driver, and a passenger. The passenger they had taken, for honorable burial I presume. The poor lady they had never found.

“I scraped a hole by the crack, wrapped her bones in my second-best cloak, and laid them inside. Then I rilled the grave with rocks and covered it with earth. I took from her the two charms she wore. I knew who she was by them. Her brother, Shastro’s cousin, was a skilled carver of such semiprecious stones. It was how he earned a living for them until Shastro rose in the world. The duke bragged to a group of us once and showed a charm he had that his cousin had carved.”

Aisling’s voice was soft and slow. “They were in a carriage and attacked, murdered by bandits. We were in a carriage and attacked by bandits. Shastro believes that her trinkets were found in the bandit’s possession, but I am sure it was Kirion who dispatched him on to ask questions of us. What questions will Shastro now ask of Kirion?”

Hadrann looked at her. “That passed through my mind when I saw he would demand to see what we had scavenged from them. For some time I have carried those trinkets in a secret pocket. One day I hoped to use them and now I have. The cousins were a strong influence for good on the duke, and I swear that he did love them deeply and honestly. By now he will know how little Kirion likes to have his own influence diluted. Shastro becomes more unstable and suspicious of those about him by the month. He will wonder about the deaths of his kin. He will think about it while the question eats at him.

“Did Kirion have our duke’s much-beloved cousins murdered? Was it done by the same men Shastro was asked to use for a raid into Estcarp? He won’t ask those questions of Kirion directly. He’ll seek out others to question. I think he will return to the site where they found the bodies but secretly. Among other questions, he will wonder most whether or not Kirion took the girl for his own purposes.

“Was she tortured, raped, slain quickly, or flung into some cesspit to die drowning in filth after being mind-emptied by Kirion? That question would haunt any man who loved. It will haunt Shastro, who knows his man’s ruthlessness. And, I saw Shastro grieve. If he has never loved or cared for any others, he loved his cousins with all his heart.”

Hadrann’s eyes were pitiless. “I am certain Kirion murdered my brother. Let him answer for these other deaths to his duke. I think sooner or later Shastro will ask questions, then let Kirion beware.”