The Duke's Ballad

VII

Keelan was summoned the next morning. But a long sleep and Aisling’s minor healing had left him in shape to obey and be helpful to the agitated and inquiring Shastro.

“Now, Lord Keelan, please give me a full account. I want in particular to know any thing that could help us recognize your kidnappers.”

So it had been the duke’s man listening. Keelan nodded. “I shall do my best, my Lord Duke.” He had nothing to hide so he was meticulous. He described every event in detail, every word he could remember, although here and there he shaded those a fraction. Once, when he mentioned the mountain accent, he added in his own ideas.

Shastro nodded thoughtfully. “Likely. Certainly not impossible. Those who’ve risen to power seldom like it when the wheel turns. I daresay they hoped to influence me to some action using a member of my court as leverage.” He turned to address the heavy tapestry covering a corner at the back of his throne room.

“What do you think, Kirion?” His sorcerer emerged from behind the heavy embroidered cloth to glance at his duke and Keelan.

“I think my brother may have the right of it. It’s unlikely he was taken to pressure you. More likely it was I they planned as a target.”

“You?” Shastro looked disconcerted.

“Why not? Look at the facts. Keelan is a minor member of your court, not a particular friend of yours, and of no strategic importance to Kars. On the other hand he is my brother. The kidnappers may well have believed that they could force me to obey instructions if they held him.”

Keelan kept his mouth shut. He knew Kirion and was under no illusions on that score. Kidnappers could have cut him into pieces at high noon before the entire court, and Kirion wouldn’t have lifted a finger unless he saw an advantage for himself. But Keelan thought there was an advantage his brother might not have noticed as yet. He opened his mouth and spoke as if puzzled.

“It was a mountain accent. The more I think the more I am sure of it. But what had Pagar’s clan to gain? They’re rich enough. They have moderate lands, and they were almost destroyed by Estcarp. Surely it isn’t likely…” He let his voice trail off into silence as he saw the two suggestions strike home.

Kirion’s face had gone blank at the mention of lands and coin. Shastro’s look had darkened as he thought his way through possibilities. Then he erupted in fury.

“I—me. It was me they sought to betray when they took Keelan.” He spun to stare at his sorcerer. “Look at the facts, Kirion. If they could use your brother to force you to act against me, then I would be helpless. Who in Kars has the power you have?”

“I would not have listened to them.”

“No, no, of course not. But they wouldn’t know how loyal you are.”

It wasn’t loyalty, Keelan reflected. Kirion didn’t know the meaning of the word. In reality Kirion hated the brother who’d inherited. He would have made a great play of his anguish and higher loyalties, then let the kidnappers murder Keelan and smiled happily in private. Shastro was working himself into a fury of wounded pride and fear.

“Of course you wouldn’t act against me, but they wouldn’t know that. They’d believe they could force you at the very least to abandon me, to refuse me aid.” He jerked upright, his eyes becoming almost crazed as thought followed thought. “How would they strike at me? Here, they must have an assassin here! Or spies to tell them when I’d be vulnerable.”

Keelan bowed, drawing the duke’s eyes. He had to get Shastro off that track before he started demanding Kirion question the court using some foul spell. “Servants tend to know everything that occurs in the court, my Lord Duke. And who would remark another of them walking in the lower city, whereas a courtier would be seen and remarked.” After all, he reflected, that was nothing but the truth.

Shastro leapt at the idea. “Kirion.” His voice was a command. “Have them close the palace gates. You will question all servants. See if any are from the mountains. Find out who is behind this plot against me. Find them, do you hear me? Find them, and I’ll know what to do with them.”

He had not been looking at his sorcerer when he made his demand. Keelan had been watching his brother out of the corner of an eye. He’d seen the sudden flicker of anger when the duke snapped that order. Shastro had spoken as if to another servant, and Kirion hadn’t appreciated it. He’d say and do nothing, not yet. Keelan knew his brother. Kirion had in mind the acquisition of some of the land and wealth that might come his way if this clan was discredited.

He said as much later in private in the Aranskeep suite. “Kirion vill do and say nothing to upset Shastro until he’s had as much as he an persuade out of the duke. After that I wouldn’t give two coppers for Shastro’s continued existence. His paranoia is starting to show. At ^resent it’s useful to Kirion, but if it becomes too great it could be a ianger to him. Shastro has only to begin doubting Kirion’s loyalty id he could be in real danger.”

Hadran listened. “Personally, do you think?”

“Maybe not personally or not unless Shastro really overreacts. Cirion could merely withdraw to his own lands, but Shastro could strip Kirion of much that he has and see that nothing more comes his way. If Kirion acted openly against his duke it would bring the clans in against him. He isn’t that powerful a sorcerer as yet; if enough men were sent against him, they could drain his power to nothing, and he’d fall.”

Aisling nodded to herself. Shastro and Kirion needed each other, not as master and servant but as allies. The duke was forgetting that. Kirion could use this business to remind him for a while.

But things could get messy if Shastro forgot again. They’d all heard the tramp of marching feet go past. The palace gates would all be shut by now, Aisling thought, the ones they could control anyhow. If she knew anything about servants, and she did, they’d have a half dozen other ways of getting clear of this place without using the gates. She said so to Keelan, who vanished hastily and unobtrusively to mention it to Shastro, who listened hard-eyed before snapping further orders.

Keelan excused himself. He left his brother and the duke discussing the actions the soldiers must take and hurried back to the Aranskeep rooms. Aisling opened the door, noticing several couriers who were within earshot. Her face stayed politely welcoming.

“Oh, Lord Keelan, have you come to tell us more of your adventures?” She simpered slightly, and her brother’s eyebrows rose comprehendingly: there must be visitors as well. He nodded, stepping inside.

“I have come to speak to Hadrann, if you will tell him I am here.” He spoke briskly, and she dropped one eyelid as she turned to call.

“Hadrann, cousin! Our friend Lord Keelan is here.” She shut the door and turned. “Do come this way, Lord Keelan. What would you like to drink, and perhaps you would care for some bread and cold duck.” She ushered him through the door, and Keelan stifled a groan. By the Flames, it would be old Lady Varra, the biggest gossip in the place, with her servants in attendance. He bit back a sudden grin. Ah. But he could encourage her to leave him alone with his sister and friend, and quickly. Her second cousin had married into Pa-gar’s old clan.

He accepted food and drink, then approached. “Such a commotion. They’re shutting all the palace gates to question the servants. They’re looking for spies from, well,” he lowered his voice, “from a certain clan.” He whispered the name. “Our good duke has cause to doubt their loyalty. He’ll question most rigorously those who are taken, I’m sure.”

He watched as Lady Varra took that in. Within minutes she was heading for the door, a flurry of chatter bouncing about her vanishing form: a remembered engagement… so late and she must dress. She apologized for her unseemly haste, but it would not do to offend… Her explanations trailed off as she made her escape. Keelan and the other two looked after her with sudden lively interest. One would think there was a conspiracy, so keen was she to get out of here and away.

Hadrann walked over and opened the door to peer out. “She’s gone.” He looked at Keelan. “Now what cat have you set among the pigeons?” From the sofa Wind Dancer raised his head and uttered an indignant disclaimer. He disliked live pigeons; they had too many small feathers. Hadrann stroked a hand down the cat’s spine. “Not you, my furred friend. Kee, was that true, Shastro has ordered the palace servants held here so they can be checked?” Keelan explained, following that with some speculation on the departed gossip and the speed of her going.

His sister nodded. “You were close to right. I listened a little as she went out. Just her emotions. She was scared to death. There is something going on, and she either knows about it or guesses enough to be afraid. But apart from her, if Kirion starts questioning servants he should find enough to keep him occupied for weeks. Shastro will insist on being present. They’ll have a host of minor dishonesties to confess as well as a few major ones. Even if those have nothing to do with your kidnapping, Kee, Shastro will want to take action on everything he hears because he hates anyone except him to get away with anything.”

“Kirion isn’t going to like wasting his power pulling minor secrets from dozens of servants,” Hadrann commented.

“No. And if the duke starts ordering him around as if he’s just another lackey,” Aisling added, “there could be trouble between them. It sounds from what Kee saw as if it’s already been happening and Kirion is already annoyed over it. Let’s wander out and see if we can stir things up. Just wait for me a moment.” She darted to her room and returned tucking something into the back of her hair. She gave Wind Dancer a hug.

“If they come searching here you be careful.” He squawked a reply. It sounded scornful, and she smiled. Hadrann took her arm, and they strolled the length of the corridor to the head of the staircase that led down to the more general rooms on the floor below, from where they could hear a growing noise. It appeared to be a large number of agitated people all talking at once. Keelan took the lead and began to descend the staircase.

A figure separated itself from the milling forms below and came hurrying up toward them: an older man who was dressed in the garb of a valet. His face twisted in fear, and sweat glistened on his face, shining in the candlelight as he neared them. He was terrified and desperate to escape, not to be taken alive. Aisling caught Hadrann’s arm and Keelan’s arms and drew them back to leave clear passage. She doubted the old man was one of those Shastro sought, but it was clear he had some major sin on his mind.

He barely glanced at them as he passed, but as his hand briefly brushed Aisling’s bare arm she saw a tiny picture in her mind: this man and others together. She heard nothing, but there was the un-mistakable air of plotters together. The man in her mind turned to look down at a figure lying motionless in filthy straw. She knew that face. She nudged Keelan and whispered hastily. He set off after the man at a slower, unobtrusive pace. Hadrann gazed down the stairs and whistled. Below them a palace guard peered up.

“Quickly.” The soldier came running. “My friend saw a servant fleeing past us. He isn’t at all certain, but he thinks it could have been one of the men who kidnapped him. They went that way. Look for Lord Keelan.”

“Thank you, my Lord, my Lady.” He followed Hadrann’s indicating wave. A bare minute later there came the sounds of a struggle. Keelan’s voice was raised. “Rann, help!”

Aisling and Hadrann raced up the stairs. In a half-open doorway Keelan was struggling with the servant. The palace guard was trying to rise, blood pouring from a head wound. The old servant was fighting like a madman and gradually overpowering the lighter Keelan. Hadrann leapt, his hand flashing out in a blow that sent the panicked man to the ground. The guard was on his feet looking unhappy.

“You haven’t killed him, Lord?”

“No, he should wake again soon, and with so many to be questioned there may be no answers demanded of you. Many will be hauling in unconscious men.” The guard heaved a deeply thankful sigh.

“I’ll see they’ll know if they must, Lord. My thanks for your aid. All of you. I would not be well regarded if this one had slipped through our hands.”

He summoned help from comrades and hauled his prisoner away down the stairs. Aisling looked after them and shivered. She’d seen Shastro’s dungeons and knew what would happen to the servant. She hated that she’d helped, but it was more important to bring down her brother and Shastro then to agonize over the fate of a man who was far from innocent. She took her companions’ arms.

“Let us go back to the rooms. I want to make sure the searchers aren’t wrecking the place and annoying Wind Dancer. We’ll hear what was found out soon enough.”

She was wrong in that last. Three days passed. Shastro seemed to be keeping the results to himself. He was seething over the discovery that an entire clan had been conspiring against him. Kirion had been unable to wring an admission from any of the servants of an intended ducal assassination. They insisted they’d been there only to watch and listen. Those who had taken Keelan had believed him to be following one of their number. Shastro didn’t believe a word of it.

He was certain they’d been conspiring to kill him. Probably they were allied with Estcarp too. Shastro would die, and some puppet of the witches would be placed on the throne, there to talk treaties with Karsten’s oldest and greatest enemy. He fumed, demanding the servants be questioned again and again. Kirion made soothing noises.

“They can tell no more.” He shrugged. “They know nothing. It is likely they were never told to do more than watch and listen. It would have been one of that clan who’d have carried out their intent. Do you now plan to move against the clan?”

Shastro was storming about his room. He picked up a goblet and flung it hard against the wall. “And my proof? If I march every solider I have against their keeps I’d lose. The other clans would claim I was using this business to take the power of a clan. I could have them all banding together against me.” He whirled on his sorcerer.

“Well, you’re my advisor. Advise me!”

Kirion considered while pouring wine. He placed the dented goblet in the duke’s hand. “Drink, my Lord Duke, and let us consider.” Shastro sat, calming a little as he emptied the goblet and was poured another.

“You are right. We must move cautiously,” Kirion mused. “But if plague strikes, or if enemies strike this clan in secret how can it be blamed on you? After all, you can point to witnessed testimony that creatures of theirs were stationed in the palace to spy upon you and your court. I suggest you hold an open ducal hearing. Let everyone speak who knows anything at all, or even those who just want to hear themselves talk.”

“What good will that do me,” his duke asked pettishly.

“Why, people assume that if there is talking going on, then nothing else is happening. We weary everyone with this discussion and in secret we act against the Coast Clan—nothing that cannot be explained as accident or ill-fortune.”

“But they’ll guess.”

“Assuredly they will.” Kirion’s smile was dangerous. “They’ll blame you, maybe even be stupid and reckless enough to attack you openly. You can then crush them the same way. You protest that if they did not have guilty consciences they would not be jumping to conclusions over a few accidents. I learned few things from my grandsire, but one trick I did learn. We kill two sorts of men from their clan. Those who are cool-headed and those who are clever. We kill the clever because they may see our intent and the cool-headed because…”

“Because if you kill the cool-headed the hotheads go to war.” Shastro ended his sentence. “Yes. A good plan. I’ll get the trial started. We’ll try them on the kidnapping of Lord Keelan. I won’t suggest anything more to begin. Let it come out from those who talk. I shall be shocked, horrified at the perfidy.”

He smoothed his sleeve. “I can leave the rest up to you, my dear friend.” His look was sly. “And do rest assured too, you shall have your share of any plunder these traitors provide.” He strolled off leaving Kirion standing, his face blank as he fumed.

An hour later in his own apartments Kirion raged about the rooms, throwing small items at the wall and cursing his duke savagely, anger and wounded pride showing on his face. He hadn’t worked for all these years, killed, tortured, and schemed, just to be told his master would toss him a few trinkets, like a bone to a good dog.

Shastro was getting above himself, forgetting who’d put him on the throne of Kars. There were a lot of Shastros out there, all mediocre, burning with ambition, and ready to do anything for the man who gained them their dearest wish. Perhaps it was getting toward the time when Kirion should think about that.

Shastro was the last of his line, yes, but the duke who’d sat on the throne in Kars before Shastro’s great-grandsire had also left descendants. They’d jump at the chance to regain the rulership. Perhaps he should make a cautious approach there, just in case he needed a candidate quickly?

“Varnar!” Kirion tossed a small purse to Varnar when his servant appeared. “Take this, go, and drink at the Inn of the Merry Bear. Be careful, let no one realize what you do, but you are to make enquiries about the family of Jekkar the cobbler. I want to know all about them. Who is well, who may be ill, who is wed with children? Do you understand me? Be careful. I would not be pleased if you were too obvious in your questioning.”

Kirion sniffed as Varnar scurried away. The man was useful occasionally, beyond the other, darker use Kirion would have for him if there was need. He continued with his latest experiment, wondering if he should also scry for his missing servants again. He’d done so a number of times in the past five moons, hoping they had found his witch-damned sister, Aisling. Not only could he obtain no sight through them but he also could not sense anything of the witch-cursed brat either. He’d try again when next he had a surplus in prisoners, although the way Shastro made demands, that wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Varnar returned the next morning, smiling hopefully up at his master. “I found the cobbler, Lord, and I have all the news of his family.” He talked while Kirion listened intently. Once Varnar fell silent, Kirion gave him a well-filled purse and other orders before sending the man away.

He did wonder how Shastro would react once the trials of the palace servants got underway. Kirion suspected a number of them were involved in wrongdoing, not always a threat to Shastro, but servants usually practiced some deceit that could be used against them at need. He’d bide his time and see how events fell out, and perhaps Kirion could give the events some assistance if that would help his plans.

The trial was unpleasant for many at court. Between the admissions of the servants, the careless talking of some courtiers, and the savage questioning conducted by Kirion, many clans were left with family in Kars under a cloud. The investigation had covered a lot of territory and uncovered some very illegal events besides Keelan’s abduction. Six members of the Coast Clan were executed, and a number of servants simply disappeared once the trial was over.

But it had left the clans in exactly the position Kirion had planned. The Coast Clan was seething with rage, grief, and resentment. They’d leap at any reason to attack the duke. The other clans were frantic to prove their loyalty. If the Coast Clan made fools of themselves the others would see it as both a chance to impress Shastro and possibly also to garner a little profit.

So the incidents began. A lord of the clan, an old and wise soldier, was found dead, his neck broken. There were no signs of others. His family did not wish to accept that. It appeared that the old man had perhaps had a dizzy spell due to his age, fainted, and broken his neck when he fell from his horse. The clan trackers scoured the whole area and found no proof to the contrary despite their desire to prove otherwise.

Then a younger man died. Bandits, it was said. He’d been stripped naked and everything including his horse stolen. He’d been shot from a distance, the arrow left in the death wound. The family raged, but again the evidence fit the suggestion of bandits. Over the next few weeks eight clan members met their deaths. Shastro met with his sorcerer privately.

“Brilliant, my dear Kirion. Just brilliant. Enough of a hint in each case that they believe the deaths to have been at my instigation but never any solid proof, nothing they could bring to even a slightly biased court. And I shall arrange a court that is not. Oh, yes. Just as soon as you are done.” He smiled patronizingly at Kirion. “And when will that be?”

Kirion noted the patronizing smile but allowed no resentment to show. He smiled in turn. “In a few days, my Lord Duke. We must kill their leader now. The lord of the clan is a sensible man. He sees that there’s no proof and thus far he’s holding the clan back. With him dead his younger brother will take over, and the man’s a witless hothead. He’ll attack you, and you’ll have your excuse to crush the entire clan.”

“Just let me know when you’re ready, Kirion. I mustn’t be caught unprepared.”

The voice was preemptory, and Kirion bowed slightly. “Of course, my Lord Duke. At your command.” Under the mild words was an ugly tone. It was definitely time Kirion found another figurehead, but for now he’d let the fool live; he needed him to direct events in Kars. After the Coast Clan was beaten and plundered, that would be the time to deal with Shastro.

“When do you intend to kill the man and where?” Shastro was demanding.

“In five more days. I have a servant within their main keep. He will poison their lord.”

“Won’t that be rather obvious?”

“A subtle poison, my Lord Duke, and a subtle man using it.” Varnar, with his hopes of recovering his memory and his family—Kirion had molded him well. “Their Lord will be dead with no signs to show what slew him. They will believe it poison, particularly when a new servant is found to have fled, but they will again have no proof.”

Shastro chuckled. “The brother will mount a stupid and useless attack on me. I’ll kill everyone with him, and the other clans will be more respectful in future.” He smirked. “I’ll teach them a lesson to remember. And once we’re done with this, Kirion, you’re to find some way of attacking Estcarp effectively. You haven’t done that yet. Aren’t your powers strong enough?” He laughed loudly before leaving Kirion to smolder alone.

Kirion sat swearing silently, then he smiled, a slow evil smile. Shastro would find out in time. Kirion had an agenda, and the duke was no more than an item on a long list. Kirion had men out searching for Aisling. So far the dammed girl had eluded him. There was nothing to show she’d even returned to Karsten although he thought she had. He scowled. That could be wishful thinking though. Then too, she had some of the Gift, and that could be hiding her from his own power.

But he’d find her, and when he did he would drain her power from her for himself to become the greatest black sorcerer Karsten had seen in its entire history. The witches should beware after that as well. Shastro wasn’t entirely wrong; they were an enemy Karsten could do without. Their lands would provide wealth for Karsten—and maybe, if he was very clever, a throne for Kirion.

He had not considered that he might not be the only one with an agenda. Kars woke the next morning to find an army at the gates. The Coast Clan had a new and unexpected leader. He’d come to ask questions and to aid the memory of those questioned he’d brought a few friends. Shastro looked out on almost a thousand soldiers, a siege engine, an orderly camp that encircled the main gates of the city, and panicked.