The Duke's Ballad

II

Aisling lifted heavy saddlebags. Beside her Wind Dancer bounced in excitement as she picked up his carrysack and tossed it over one shoulder. She exited her shelter to find a renthan named Teelar waiting. The intelligent, deerlike mount eyed her and the excited cat, then mind-sent to Wind Dancer.

“Small friend, remember your claws.”

Wind Dancer made an indignant sound. Aisling smiled. “Teelar, don’t worry. He’ll be riding on my back not yours.” She tossed the bags over his back and knelt to tuck Wind Dancer into the carry-sack. With him secure she lifted it, fitting the straps over her shoulders and fastening the waist strap. Wind Dancer peered out over her shoulder, resting one large paw against the side of her neck.

Aisling mounted, wondering briefly if any would come to bid her farewell. It felt lonely to leave, to know that she was unlikely ever to see the valley or even Escore again. It would ease the feeling if…

Teelar turned the bend toward the valley’s rune-guarded exit and halted just beyond the glowing rune signs. Before him were Krogan, adepts, people from the valley, and a flittering of Flannan. Hilarion stepped out from the group.

“We are come to farewell you, my student. It is only fitting that you know you leave friends here.” He saw her face widen in one of her joyous smiles. He would miss the girl. She soaked up learning as Krogan soaked up water after too long on land. Aisling whirled from friend to friend, hugging, talking, accepting small gifts and fitting them into her saddlebags. At last, after more hugging, her friends began to drift back into the valley. Other renthans appeared, and Hi-larion and three guards swung up onto their respective mounts. Aisling looked a question.

“We ride with you,” the adept said briefly. He signaled and the small group started. They rode quietly, senses alert. The Valley of the Green Silences was in a sense headquarters for the Light. This close, few of the Dark would dare to venture, but it did no harm to be wary. Farther on toward the mountains the Dark had strongholds that had to be passed, and to alert them too soon was folly.

They rode through a long day. Nothing of moment occurred, but even the mere riding was tiring as they had to stay alert. At nightfall they made camp in a safe haven. The guards lit a small fire, preparing food while Wind Dancer lay motionless watching the flames, his eyes half-shut. Hilarion took his pupil aside. His face was grave as he handed her a small pouch. She opened it and gave a small gasp.

“A witch jewel. But Hilarion, I was never taught to use this. You said—” He raised a hand to silence her.

“I said you had no need of a witch jewel when you had your pendant. That is true.” He smiled slowly. “Nor if you could examine this would you find the usual qualities of a jewel. It is a trap. I prepared it in company with those others of us who feel you should have all the aid we can give you. It is keyed to you. Not the reverse. If it is destroyed it will cause you no pain nor any distress.”

“What if another attempts to probe it?”

Hilarion looked calm. “Then it will backlash with great ferocity. It will react with power proportionate to the other’s. The stronger he is, the greater the backlash, but also, as I say, it is keyed to you. If you feel you have no other hope, then there is a command you may give. It will then release all its power. You will die, but also everything within several yards of you will be completely destroyed as well.” He lowered his voice.

“The command is…” the sound vibrated softly in the air. “But the word is only half. You must also say this in your mind, directing the thought at the jewel before you speak the word. That keys it to be ready. The moment the word is spoken aloud the power will strike. It matters not if several days have elapsed. It is keyed, and it will strike then when you say the word.”

He looked at her. “I emphasize, it is not a witch jewel. It is a trap designed to appear as a jewel. I made it as an experiment. Because of its properties it could not be used by Estcarp witches. The keying is too close to their own jewels. But your pendant is different. To use one is not to trigger the other. I would suggest that you wear the witch jewel openly if the time comes when you are beset, but hide the pendant within your clothing. Let any who come against you believe that the jewel is your focus. That way they will direct any attack against it, and you will be free to use the pendant. As for the pendant, I have questions about it.”

Aisling nodded. “What questions, Adept?”

“You said that you knew nothing of the pendant’s origins. That it came down from your grandmother. But what of her, what do you know of her kin, her clan, her family?”

Aisling spread her hands. “She was of the Old Blood. Pure, so it was said. I remember my parents speaking once. Some tale about the line having blood other than human, too. Or a different race.” Hi-larian seemed to become more interested. “I know so little, only that it was given before the Horning to Larian, my grandmother’s brother. When the Horning came he gave it to my grandmother for safekeeping. Before that, it was held as a bride gift to be given to the new wife of each heir in turn.”

“Were there any customs?”

“None that I know, save that it was only to be given the morning after the wedding.”

He blinked. “Now that is interesting. It was to be given only when the giver could be sure the receiver no longer had power to use it fully.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“No.” He thought a moment. “You use it as a focus to reach your own power. Have you ever tried to reach power within the pendant?”

“No, not on purpose, but…” her voice faded as she remembered. Kirion and Ruart had sent servants. She’d been kidnapped from Gerith Keep, struck down, drugged, taken to her brother and his lecherous crony. They’d quarreled as to who should use her, and while they gambled to decide, she’d been locked several levels down in Ruart’s dungeons.

She explained. “I’d found a metal strip and picked the locks, but at the ground level the door had been barred from the other side as well. I raised the bar by the power of my mind alone.” She could still recall that effort, and now she was remembering something she had forgotten from that time.

“I didn’t have the pendant then, but I’d seen it when I worked with Grandmother. I think I called the shape of it. I used it to focus.” Her eyes blanked as she remembered the strain of lifting the bar, her exhaustion afterward. “It was only when I could really see it in my mind that I was able to lift the bar. Is that important?”

Hilarion reached out and touched the chain on which the pendant hung. His fingers drew it into view. “The work is very old, from before the departure of your people to Estcarp. It was adept-made. I think its purpose was to improve what little power was left to the woman of the house after her wedding. But with the loss of most of her gift she could not truly bond to it, only use it.

Hilarion nodded. “Your grandmother must have become one with it as a child. It seems that the small gift she had did not lessen with her marriage. And yet she was able to pass the pendant to you, which indicates it is more powerful than it appears. It has power of a kind strange to me, and I dare not probe too deeply. I have no wish to damage it.” His eyes met hers. “But, Aisling, if you are about to lose the battle and even the witch jewel has failed you, call on this.”

“What about my dagger?”

“A pretty thing and useful. It too is old and made by the same hand I think. Did your grandmother ever use it?”

“No. She was given it by Larian too, but she laid it away once she was in Aiskeep.” Aisling smiled. “I’m the first to wear them both. How could it be from the same place, Hilarion? They came from different sides of the family.” Her teacher had a strange look on his face, the look of one who knows there is something he has forgotten and strives fruitlessly to remember. He shrugged at last.

“I once heard something I can not recall. Not that it is likely to matter. As to your question, both sides of your family carried some blood of the Old Race. Maybe once they were kin. But let us go to sit by the fire and eat before we sleep. We will ride long again tomorrow.”

That they did and for another day more in a cautious circling around places where evil lurked. But close to the mountains they could swing wide no further. Hilarion went ahead and returned at a steady trot.

“Come with me, Aisling. There is a place here that should be cleansed, but there is danger.” He frowned. “If we do this, then we will alert others. They will come hunting, and they must not find you.” He thought briefly. “We shall wait tonight. In the morning we shall destroy this thing, and you shall ride at once for the river pass. We will remain. If hunters come seeking us then we shall ride openly in another direction. Let them follow us while you travel the pass in safety.”

Aisling would have objected. She was no soft-handed lady to leave friends fighting behind her and ride on. But a look at Hilarion’s stern face convinced her he meant what he said. Nor did he think the less of her. She was to ride now, so that she might fight a different battle. She bowed her head in acceptance. From the fire came an imperative yowl and a mind-sending. There was food and warmth here. Why did his human stand in the chill dark unfed? Both people laughed and walked back to the fire.

Dawn came soon enough. It was late spring and the days were lengthening. They rode, passing a small village just beginning to stir. Hilarian ignored it; they had no need for supplies as yet, and he wanted no questions as to who they were or where they rode. This place of the Dark was new. It was therefore even more important that it be destroyed. He glanced away to the left where from afar the trees of the mosswomen’s forest could be seen.

The stream that circled the forest was a way into Karsten. Aisling would not have to scale mountains on this trip. The river pass was rarely used. There was only a brief time in the year when it was safe, and the whole area on the Karsten side was almost empty of people. There had always been few garths or keeps there. With the Horning most of those had been destroyed, and of the new Karsten breed, none had chosen to settle again. Teelar would take the pass at a steady trudge.

Once on the Karsten side Aisling would have to travel on foot with Wind Dancer. Farther along the trail Hilarion’s man or men would be waiting for her with a mount. But right now they had to dispose of the new site that had been settled by dangerous nonhu-man forces. The guard had ridden ahead, spreading out in scout formation. Aisling rode back from Hilarion, whose mount was staying some two hundred yards behind the scouts.

At the very edge of danger she dismounted. Wind Dancer, still in his carrysack, was handed to one of the guards, and all three scouts retired out of range. Aisling and Hilarion conferred swiftly. Her hands flickered in shapes and gestures as she demonstrated her intentions. Then they both remounted, and Aisling started Teelar moving. He edged closer in a slow-walking spiral. The girl opened her mind, just enough to read the enticement that would reach for her shortly.

She felt it as they came in range of the slow-spreading pool of new evil. There was a mind-stench to the thing. And a drawing. She allowed it to sense her, not as she was but as a simple wondering girl, defenseless and ignorant. Its hunger quickened. The call changed: it sent dreams, visions of wonderful things. Only come to me and you shall have everything you want, it called. Come and find all you have ever desired.

Teelar moved in slowly, answering the careful nudge of her heel. His mind was blanked. The evil, eyeless and knowing only that a victim approached at the speed of one afoot, was less wary. Hilarion, his mind also blanked to it, but waiting, watching, sat his mount. He had no need to use mind-powers to read the time to strike. He watched Aisling. One hand was rising higher, out to shoulder level, the palm turned to hang edge down. There it stayed.

Aisling let her mind accept the offerings. They were wonderful. She’d be powerful, desired. She would be a leader, a ruler. Teelar moved a little faster under her signal. The evil roiled in its pool. A victim, young, innocent, and with the very faintest trace of untrained power. What a prize, a delectable tidbit to savor. It opened itself and called with all its strength, and Aisling’s hand chopped down. Even as she signaled, her mind hardened to spear point and slashed in.

Behind her, less than a heartbeat later, Hilarion threw in his greater power. They carved through the mind of the evil like lightning through storm sky, the blue of their power against the smoky black of the Dark. It screamed once and was gone, small oily puffs of noxious miasma rising lazily from the land where it had anchored its being.

Hilarion closed in. He raised his hands, and began to chant softly. The land had only recently been used by Darkness. If he acted swiftly it would heal. His mount and Teelar added power. The scorched circle of land rippled. Aisling added her own gifts of healing, and the land shivered. A hint of green showed, then, in a rush, a tiny tide of grass swept over the circle, pouring from the edges to envelop what had been an ugly twenty-foot circle gouged deep into the earth.

The scouts moved in with cries of approval. One produced a pouch, tossing illbane seeds to spray across the new grass. Power urged growth, and with the grass, the tiny plants rose up to hold the land secure. Where illbane blooms no minor evil can live. Wind Dancer squirmed from his carrysack and pounced gaily across the circle. Aisling laughed.

“I think he’s saying that we’ve done well.” She watched as the big cat sniffed a flower and sneezed vigorously.

Hilarion nodded. “Yes, now we ride. Best we’re away from here in case any come hunting whoever it was that killed their comrade.”

They mounted again, and the renthans leaped into a steady rocking canter. They could hold that pace for hours and now they did. By dusk the small group was partway through the river pass. Hilarion watched his pupil as she rode. The false jewel would see that her brother could not steal her gifts to use against others. And the other ability implanted in the jewel might save her. He would have wished to tell her, but wisdom bade him to silence. Visions in his crystal warned that Aisling would fight better if she did not know that. In this way at least, she was being used. He glanced about him before signaling a halt.

They camped late, rose early, and rode again. As they traveled he taught her the passwords that would reveal whether those who came to meet her were truly his messengers. By sun high they reached the far side of the pass. Here Hilarion and the others would leave Aisling. She had supplies, all around her the land bloomed, and she had weapons with which to hunt at need. She would walk south with Wind Dancer.

With brief farewells, she did so. The weather was lovely. Not too hot as yet but warm enough at night to sleep under the sky if they wished.

She passed the large ruined keep which had once been the home of some family of the Old Race. It was half keep and half fortified manor. She did not go in; it was too sad.

She came to a small clearing. Wind Dancer, who’d been scouting ahead, appeared, his mind-picture sharp: Horses! Men who waited! Aisling halted. Then she circled cautiously, drawing power to cloak herself. Wind Dancer swept up to guard her back. She studied the waiting men. Two of them, nondescript, one who was perhaps in his forties, the other younger, maybe by ten or fifteen years. One, the larger of the pair, had medium brown hair; the other was fairer, almost blond. Both were moderately well dressed but without obvious jewelry, not even a ring. Purely Karsten from their looks, and that was strange. Why would men without traces of the Old Blood aid Hilarion?

She extended a trace of mind-touch, and both came alert. That was odder still. Those who had no gifts could not detect the touch when done so lightly. But here hands had dropped to swords as they looked about. She let her glamour fall and stepped into the clearing, where she could be seen. Then she spoke quietly.

“I seek those who wait at a gate?”

One bowed. “Lady, we wait for one who comes seeking.”

“In summer the lawleaves feed many birds,” Aisling said slowly.

He grinned happily. “And in winter, berries are few, and the lost die.”

Aisling nodded. “Quite true, but not the words I needed to hear!”

She attacked, sword at the ready, swinging the keen blade in dazzling circles. It was a trick the valley had taught her, and it worked here as well. Moving into battle positions, both men involuntarily watched the sword. She trilled a battle shout, raised the sword as if to leap in, and struck savagely with her mind. Both men collapsed. Wide open, expecting a physical attack, they had forgotten to trigger any protections they might have been given against the power.

She stood with Wind Dancer, looking down at them. Her face was sad. In the valley where she had trained in the use of her power, she had learned to use her gift to attack if it was necessary. Now, she could not leave enemies at her back, yet she had never slain in cold blood. She did not believe she could do so now. Often enough she had seen her keep’s butcher at his work, and while hunting she had killed deer and butchered them as any hunter must. Still, these were humans, not some bodiless evil nor beasts she had killed cleanly during a hunt.

Wind Dancer had left her and was trotting busily about the clearing. His ears went up, signaling interest, then he was gone. She caught a glimpse of him as he followed a trail, and her own curiosity was pricked. She hastily bound both men and followed her friend.

He led her to a half-cave in a rock outcrop. He padded inside and a young male voice spoke in astonishment.

“What are you? You’re either the biggest of your kind I’ve ever seen or not what you appear. Are you… are you one of the power?”

Wind Dancer chirped a summons to his human. Aisling smiled and obeyed. If Wind Dancer called, then there was no danger for her here. She stepped into the half-cave and looked about. The man who’d spoken was bound in a positive cocoon of rope. He’d been gagged but he had managed to scrape that free. His face was a mask of blood and bruises, but he appeared little damaged apart from what had clearly been a nasty beating.

His face under the mess was vaguely familiar. She took out her leather water bottle, wiped away some of the blood from the man’s face, and allowed him to drink. Then she stepped back.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

He looked up at her wryly. “I came with a friend to wait for one who came seeking those who waited at a gate.” Aisling straightened. That was half of the password. Could it be this was the true messenger? She looked at him.

“In summer the lawleaves feed many birds,” Aisling said slowly.

He nodded, grimacing as he moved. “And in winter berries are few, but bears may feast before.”

It was the password, yet she must move carefully. She knelt at his side. “I have to be certain. How came you here, and who were the two other men I met first?”

“Two others? Are they secured?” She nodded. “Then I shall speak swiftly. We should be away from here as fast as we can. Where two found you, others may follow. Word came to me that my friend and I should bring a spare mount, meet a traveler here and guide her back to the duchy. We found four men waiting at a deserted garth. They challenged us and we fought. We escaped them, killing one and leaving another wounded, but still the others pursued.

“We came to a wood and circled it. There was in me a warning that to enter would not be worth the time we might save on the trail. Later we were ambushed by those we had escaped. It seems they did not fear the wood.” He sighed. “A right choice still for us. They paid the wood with their wounded one for free passage. They boasted of it. One of them is skilled with a sling. I was struck on the head, and when I recovered they had my friend.”

He looked up at Aisling, his eyes filling with tears. “I knew he was weak. I should never have allowed him to know what I did. The fault was mine. Mine the blame.”

Aisling nodded. So this one’s companion had talked, under torture or threat of it. “What happened to him afterward?”

“They cut his throat and laughed.” His voice was savage. “But he had not quite betrayed you. He gave them almost the password twisting only the last portion. I can still see his eyes now, so hopeful on me. Begging me to understand and forgive him.” He sobbed once. “I knew he feared pain. He was taken once when he was a child, because someone recalled his family had a trace of the Old Blood. When my family found him he’d been terribly treated. After that he always feared pain greatly. The men who took us hurt him badly… he could not withstand it. Lady, please. Do not condemn him.”

Aisling remembered her grandmother’s tale of how her family had died in the Horning. Despite his terror this one’s friend had still lied, given her a warning and a chance to turn the tables. Aisling knelt and slashed the ropes. “Where does his body lie? We should bury him before we leave.” The sudden light in his face was payment.

“Back by the edge of the wood. But what of these you left bound? Lady, it is too dangerous to leave them alive. They would not talk freely and I… I have little stomach for torture. But I would like very much to know who sent them and who they sought.” As he spoke he was stretching, loosening muscles stiffened by a long time bound in one place.

Aisling smiled grimly. “Not torture, no. But they will talk.” She offered him the water bottle again, and he drank. Better to remain wary, Aisling thought. She looked at him and felt again the sense that somewhere she had seen him before. He looked at her as he handed back the container, and she nodded. “What is your name?”

He looked worried. “Is it safe to share names, Lady? Yet I owe you a life. I shall give you mine and let you use another ’til such time as you are certain of my honor. I am Hadrann of Aranskeep.”

Aisling bit back a gasp. So that was why she’d half-recognized his face. She’d seen his father at Teral Market. Her grandparents had been friends with the Lord of Aranskeep, and sometimes if they met at the market, they shared food in one of the larger private rooms. She searched her memory. Yes, this was the heir. They called him Rann for short, and he’d often been at Kars court. He’d also shipped on a Sulcar trader for a year.

She’d seen his father on a number of occasions but in her recollection, never Rann. Or maybe she had. There was a dim memory of a young boy with the Lord of Aranskeep once. Oblivious to her thoughts, Rann was continuing to stretch and work his muscles back into shape. The lady would give him a name to use when she was ready. Aisling finished thinking and nodded to him.

“My name is Jonrie of Jontor’s garth at Aiskeep.”

His brows went up. “So that is why you look familiar. I’ve seen Lord Trovagh more than once.” He suddenly recalled she had claimed garth as home, not keep, and his face flamed. “Forgive me. I spoke without thinking.”

Aisling had real trouble keeping her face straight. So he’d leaped to the conclusion she was her grandfather’s bastard, had he? That was well enough. It explained a lot without giving too much away. She made her mouth droop a little.

“It is true the Lord and I are kin. I would not deny it. He and his have always treated me well. And from the line I received gifts.” That last she emphasized a little and saw him understand. It was quite true, too, she reflected, just not exactly as he’d believe. “Now, let us seek out those I bound and require them to make accounting.”

With Wind Dancer bringing up the rear she led Rann off along the trail. As she walked she wondered: just how had the heir to Aranskeep become mixed up in this affair. She’d like to hear, but at the moment there were other questions more pressing. She entered the small clearing and stood looking down grimly on the two bound and gagged forms that lay there still, glaring up at her defiantly. She needed answers and she would have them.