Andre Norton - Ciara's Song

He’d already returned to Ciara, “Here, lass. The trader sent you these as a gift.” He held out the two bells. To them he added a matching pair of small leather collars. “Hanion made these for you. See, you may tie the bells to them.”

In minutes the kittens were scampering about tinkling merrily as they bounced and played. Trovagh trailed his scarf and the children shrieked as the kits attacked. In days they were often a foursome. The kits grew quickly, friendly to all but preferring to sleep one on each of the children’s beds. There was a swift massacre of mice, followed by rats as soon as the babies were a little larger. It made them popular with all in the Keep.

Geavon wrote again several weeks after Ciara’s name day. The news was not good. Tarnoor read it, then summoned Elanor and handed her the letter. She, too, read and frowned.

“So the Lady Loyse has reappeared in Estcarp. That makes people certain it was she or the Witches who slew Yvian. That Aldis is nowhere found makes no fuss. Indeed, it may make things easier solved. But Fulk—now that he’s been gone for months the lords about Verlaine squabble vigorously over his hold.”

“Indeed. The man was a wrecker and a rogue but he held Verlaine with a strong hand. Loyse makes it plain she will not return nor lay claim to Verlaine or Kars. Thus both rulerships are open. I think it will not be long before argument turns to warfare over Verlaine at least. That should suit Estcarp. Verlaine is close to their border. If the lords nearby squabble over Verlaine, they are not fighting nor raiding elsewhere.”

Elanor agreed thoughtfully. “Is it possible that this was why they slew Fulk and Yvian?”

“It is possible. Any soldier could have predicted the outcome.”

“So all this may have been a deep-laid plot against Karsten? In revenge for the Horning perhaps?”

Tarnoor shrugged. “Perhaps. It is done now. But it’s as well we’ve prepared. If the struggle grows violent enough at Verlaine it will pull the coast clans in. Then there is Kars. Here in the South we may be called by the clans. If that happens, then there is likely to be open war among the clan lords. Such wars are without quarter. No enemy is fought so savagely as one who is your own.” He sighed. “Alas for Karsten.”

Elanor left to ready the evening meal while Tarnoor sat thinking. He would write to Geavon suggesting a compromise. For two generations it had worked with a Keep here in the far South. He sent the letter swiftly by messenger. Geavon received it and blinked. Wisdom from a backwater. It just might work. He sat to write letters of his own. There was an advantage to be gained. Two of the disputing lords were of Geavon’s clan. If they combined, the others would back off.

They might have done so, had the letter arrived in time. Even in the South they heard how the lords battled over Verlaine. Finally, Tamoor’s suggestion ended it, but not without many dead and hatred stored up. There was a marriage. Verlaine was again ruled. By the second son of one lord, wed to the eldest daughter of his neighbor. In a year he was dead, poisoned. His wife could not hold the Keep and fled to her clan. The war began again and spread this time.

But Tarnoor had used the year wisely. He’d bargained, traded, bought, and sold. Aiskeep was stronger than it had been in many generations.

The kits, too, had contributed. Their first litter had sold for very high prices as Tarnoor had expected. The second litter, already bulging the small female’s sides, was sold in advance. Tanrae had visited Aiskeep, once bringing a long train of loaded wains. The same Sulcar ship had met him quietly on the coast. With the trader came a second female kitten for Ciara.

Elanor might wonder that the Sulcar who allied with Estcarp would come to trade. Tarnoor did not. Civil war in Karsten could only profit other lands. If they sold Karsten goods and gear to war, then the longer and more deadly that war, while the Sulcar profited and other lands lay safer.

From overseas news came that the hounds of Alizon hunted. Karsten could not look to them for aid. They had strange allies, men said: perhaps those Kolder who had done so ill by Kars after all their promises. Meanwhile in Karsten war came closer. Twice Keeps near Kars were clan-besieged. The fighting spread to Kars for several days. It died again but sullenly. Then one arose supported by two of the clans. Kieren was young, but a fighter known from the wars with Estcarp. Since many believed that their troubles were all Witch-caused, that stood him in good stead.

He made truce with a third clan by marriage. Another year of peace, and half again. Ciara was growing. She’d been twelve last name day and Trovagh thirteen. She was not beautiful but there was strength and sweetness in her face. She and the boy were as close as ever, always up to some ploy. The letters from Geavon came regularly to Aiskeep. Tarnoor expected another shortly. Instead, Geavon’s nephew came quietly in the night.

He stood in Tarnoor’s study talking softly. “My father is being drawn into clan councils. Kieren does not treat his wife well. Her clan plans to wait until she bears her child, then declare her Kars Regent in the child’s name. My uncle thinks this will bring war again. He asks that you allow his family to come here while there is yet time.”

The man he addressed nodded. “Bring them cautiously. Travel as traders or a garth family on the move. They’d be good hostages against Geavon’s compliance with orders.”

“Yes, my lord.” The young man slipped away before dawn, riding back to the Keep.

Events overtook him. It was weeks before Tarnoor heard, then he sat silent. Geavon’s letter was open before him. The boy had been slain on the return. By whom Geavon did not know, only that the body lay before their gates one morning. The lad’s father was not a man to think deeply for meanings. He assumed that it had been done by the clan opposing his and acted. A third clan had been drawn in. The remaining three might have stayed out of the fight. It was none of theirs. But the duchess’s.father deemed it a good time now to strike for the duchy. The baby had been a son.

Kieren died in an ambush. The other clans swept in to do battle. Geavon was full of regret. It would not be possible just at this moment to send his family to Aiskeep. Tarnoor swore, tossing the letter into the fire. Outside on the stairs he heard the clatter of heavy boots. That was Hanion in a hurry; what troubled them now ”?

He opened the door. Hanion burst in already speaking. “Lord, there’s men at arms at the gates. They tried to enter but we had the gates shut in time. They say they are from Lord Geavon but we recognize none of them and they are heavily armed. They demand entrance.”

Tarnoor followed Hanion to the gates. There he looked down at those below. Men at arms? No, more like a small army. He counted more than a hundred men along with a dozen wains. They had set a half circle about the gates just over an arrow’s flight back. This was no message from Geavon. He leaned far out to search for any known face. An arrow sliced the collar of his cloak as he shied sideways.

He swore again. He seemed to have done a lot of that since Yvian’s death, he thought. Then he descended to the gates.

“Unfriend, come forward and tell me what you wish.”

From the other side a voice called, “Open the gates and yield to Clan Grothar.”

“If I choose not to?”

“Then we remain here. Nothing goes in or out save it be one to offer surrender.”

“Stay then and be damned to you,” Tarnoor bawled back. He marched up the wall steps again to look between the crenellations. Aiskeep was under siege. The war had arrived in the South at last.