Brian Rathbone - The Dawning of Power

Moments later one of Jharmin's guards approached. "Lord Arbuckle Kyte has succumbed to age," he said. "Lord Jharmin asks that you leave Lankland on the morrow. He is needed at Wolfhold and will leave this night. Two guards will be left to assure your safe passage back to Mundleboro."

Pain seared Catrin's heart. Compassion for Jharmin overwhelmed her. "Does Jharmin's father live?" Catrin asked Millie.

"No," she said. "He died many years ago in a hunting accident."

"Did my family have anything to do with that accident?"

"No. I don't believe so. Your grandfather had his grandfather killed, and then Jharmin's father killed your grandfather. To my knowledge, that was the last killing your family committed."

Catrin was shamed by the tale, and she vowed to put an end to the killing. With her head bowed, she walked toward Jharmin's camp. He was nowhere in sight, but she moved with purpose and intent.

"Hold," a guard said as she neared.

"I request an audience with Lord Kyte."

"A moment, m'lady."

Jharmin emerged from his tent, his eyes red and swollen. "Say what you have to say."

"I came to express my sincere condolences."

His head snapped toward her, and his face flushed, but then he seemed to sense her sincerity. "Thank you for your concern. I doubt your grandmother will feel the same."

"Jharmin," Catrin said, taking his hand in hers. She was surprised when he didn't pull away. "Our families have been horrible to each other, but the time has come to heal this age-old wound. No more can we afford petty squabbles. Let our generation be the one that puts things to right."

Jharmin pulled his hand free slowly and walked toward the horse lines. He walked to his horse, which was kept separate from all the rest, and ran his hands over the glossy coat.

Catrin moved with him, and she scratched at the base of the horse's mane. The colt stretched out his neck and groaned, wiggling his top lip back and forth.

"You know animals," Jharmin said, and Catrin nodded. "Then you understand that it can be difficult to undo a lifetime of training."

"I understand, but I also know our families stand to lose everything in the coming months. I may have grown up on the Godfist, but I really do have the best interest of the Greatland in my heart."

"Go back to your camp," he said with a long sigh. "I'll send word that I will be delayed, and I'll travel to Ravenhold with you. We'll finish this feud one way or another."

His words were clearly a dismissal, but Catrin felt there was a victory in them, a victory for the people of the Greatland.

Millie and Morif left in the carriage with the dawn, hoping to give the Lady Mangst time to prepare for guests. Catrin could only hope her grandmother would understand.

"Enjoying the wine, Beron?" Master Edling asked.

"Yes," Master Beron replied. "It's quite good."

"And the ham? It's to your liking?"

"Indeed."

"Then you'd best listen to me," Master Edling said. "If Wendel Volker and his Greatlanders have their way, our days of ruling here are over. Gone will be the days of fine eating and drinking. Can you picture yourself working the fields or gutting fish?"

"You've made your point. What is it you want?"

Master Edling smiled. With Beron on his side, he was closer to having a majority vote on the council. Endless deliberation and inconsistent alliances had already proven costly. If he'd had his way, Wendel Volker would already be dead, but others hadn't seen it that way, and his use of Premon Dalls had lost him favor. That would all end now. He was one step closer to regaining his power.

"I want you to talk to Jarvis and Humbry. See if you can get them to listen to reason."

Master Beron snorted. "You expect them to listen to me? They don't trust either of us, and they are terrified the Herald will return."

"I'll attend to the Volker girl. You talk to Jarvis and Humbry. I don't care what they believe; I expect you to convince them. Understand?"

"I understand."

Trying to think of what to say to her grandmother, Catrin clenched her jaw. While she hoped this day would be a new day for Lankland and Mundleboro alike, she knew it had the potential for disaster and ruin, and she could only pray those involved would recognize the uselessness of continued fighting.

Jharmin and his men broke camp and waited for Catrin and her party in a meadow. His guards unfurled his standard, and Catrin got a chill thinking about riding into Ravenhold under the Kyte sigil.

"Your mother would be proud," Benjin said as he helped load her packs and secure them behind her saddle.

"I'm doing my best, but I fear it won't be enough. The hatred between the Mangst and Kyte families has lasted for ages, how can I hope to undo it in a day?"

"You can't," Benjin said. "But you can take the first step. That's often the most difficult one. From there, momentum will carry you along."

In her new clothes, Catrin felt even more out of place. She had hoped to present an imposing image, but she feared she only made herself stand out. The leggings were comfortable but still needed to be broken in. Tossing her leg over her mount proved more difficult than she anticipated, and she suffered the embarrassment of having to try three times before she gained the saddle. With her staff resting in the heel Benjin attached to her stirrup, she rode comfortably.

No one spoke as they approached Ravenhold, but the view of her ancestral home was awe inspiring. Jharmin's face bore no expression, but Chase was clearly stunned by what he saw. He'd seen buildings that physically dominated the land, but Ravenhold seemed to be part of the surroundings, and the landscaping lent to the effect.

Lining the roadway that led to the imposing main entrance, guards stood at attention. Still as stones, they kept their eyes straight ahead, seemingly focused on nothing. Unnerved by the effect, Catrin would almost have preferred leers and catcalls. Atop the central stair, the Lady Mangst emerged, followed by a slip of a girl with fire in her eyes. In the moment Catrin saw her, she resented anyone who had said they looked alike. Lissa had a hard and self-righteous air about her, and the slanted sneer on her face appeared all too natural. Catrin's gut twisted when their eyes met; fury seared the air between them. Her grandmother stood serene and patient, apparently oblivious to the open hostility Lissa radiated.

Jharmin approached with his head high and his chest puffed out, but he managed not to look pompous or arrogant. It was a skill Catrin had to admire. He bowed to the Lady Mangst and Lissa. Catrin bowed as well, and Lissa's fury polluted the air; it washed over Catrin in waves as she straightened, and she tried not to snarl. So much raw emotion was difficult to suppress.

"Lord Kyte," the Lady Mangst said formally. "You are welcome in my home. I am grieved to hear of your grandfather's passing. You have my most sincere condolences."

In Jharmin's eyes and the heady mixture of emotions radiating from him, Catrin sensed a struggle. She assumed he was trying not to let his distrust of the Mangst name despoil this opportunity.

"Lady Mangst, I humbly accept your hospitality and your sentiment," Jharmin said, and he seemed almost sincere.

"Come. Let us feast."

Catrin walked alongside Jharmin. "Thank you," she said.

"It is not for you that I do this," he replied.

"Whatever the reason, I thank you," she said, and though he made no response, she sensed his guard drop just for a moment. It was a short walk to the banquet hall, and Catrin was amazed by what had been done in such a short time. Arrangements of fresh flowers adorned each table, and liveried servants stood ready with covered trays. Lissa was seated to her grandmother's right, and Jharmin sat to her left. Catrin took the seat next to him, and felt, once again, like an outsider within Ravenhold.