The door to the tower rattled against its bolt. Geran and Kara both jumped at the sound and turned to look. The door-a sturdy construction of thick oak planks riveted together with bands of iron-shook again in its frame. “In the tower, there! Open up!” a man called from outside.
“It’s Kamoth!” Kara gasped.
Geran nodded. Together they drew their blades and stood facing the door. Its bar was sturdy enough to stop anything short of a small battering ram. There was a small scratching sound … and the small spyhole in the door swung open, pushed by the blade of a dagger. The panel was only about the size of a hand, but it was enough for Geran to recognize his uncle’s features peering through from outside. Kamoth’s bright blue eyes fell on him, then crinkled at the corners in a warm smile. “Ah, there you are. Geran, my boy! And Kara, my dear! Open the door, will you?”
Geran glanced at Kara, but she did not move. Kamoth was her stepfather, but she’d known her uncle Bernov all her life. Kamoth’s brows knitted together. “Hmm, perhaps I wasn’t sufficiently clear. Draw back the bolt, if you please, because I’d like to come inside the tower.”
“We can’t do that,” Geran answered.
“Oh? Why in the world not?”
“My father told us to keep this door barred until he or the harmach tells us otherwise.”
Kamoth glanced away and muttered something under his breath. But he returned to the spyhole a moment later, his eyes bright and kind. “Be that as it may, I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you just let me in for a moment. I’m in need of a few things from my quarters, and then I’ll be right out again.”
Geran straightened his shoulders and looked his uncle in the eye. “My father told us you tried to kill the harmach tonight. Is it true?”
“A terrible misunderstanding, my boy. I’ve some important letters in my room that I need to show your father to clear this all up. Now, mark my words, you two-open that door before this whole affair takes a tragic turn. It’s dangerous for me to stand out here on this doorstep talking to you.”
Geran felt himself starting to waver. He wanted to give Kamoth the chance to explain himself, even though he knew exactly what his father had told him to do. But he felt Kara standing at his shoulder. “Don’t do it, Geran,” she whispered. “There are more men just behind him.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “We won’t let you in, not against my father’s orders. If you’re innocent, you should give yourself up.”
Anger flashed in Kamoth’s eyes, but swiftly passed. “Well, I never took you for a fool, my boy. That’s it, then-I’d best be on my way. Kara, give my regards to your mother. I’ll certainly miss her, I will.” There was a small sound of movement outside, then Kamoth’s face vanished from the spyhole.
Geran waited a moment then cautiously crept up to peer from the small spyhole. The rain-slicked courtyard outside was empty.
“What’s going on here?” At the foot of the stairs leading up to the family quarters, Geran’s cousin Sergen stood in his nightshirt. He looked at Geran and Kara and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Was that my father at the door?”
Geran and Kara exchanged looks. “You’d better tell him,” Geran said to her. “I doubt he’ll believe it from my mouth.”
“Believe what?” Sergen demanded. He was a dark-haired youth of fifteen years, wiry like his father, but he was paler than Kamoth and stood a good four inches shorter than Geran. He’d come to Griffonwatch two years past when Kamoth married Terena Hulmaster. Geran didn’t like him very much; in his experience Sergen was quick to find fault with others and quicker still to take offense when someone found fault with him.
Kara grimaced and looked over to their stepcousin. “Your father tried to kill the harmach. He’s got men in the castle.”
“What? That makes no sense!”
“Can’t you hear the fighting?” Geran snapped. “Those are Kamoth’s men fighting the Shieldsworn. Your father’s a traitor.”
“That’s a lie!” Sergen snarled. “You’re a damned liar!”
“No, I’m not,” Geran said coldly. “In fact, I wonder if you’re in on this too.” He took two steps toward Sergen and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t particularly like Sergen calling him a liar for no other reason than saying something Sergen didn’t want to hear. He’d earned more than a little trouble for teaching Sergen manners with his fists before, but that wouldn’t stop him from doing so again if his stepcousin didn’t mind his words.
“My father is no traitor!” Sergen shouted. He balled his fists and refused to give ground. Geran frowned; he’d never known Sergen to challenge him so directly. “And I’m not, either! Say it again, and I’ll knock your teeth out, you lying bastard!”
Geran started forward with the intention of extracting an apology from his stepcousin, but Kara reached out to set a hand on his arm. “Wait, Geran,” she said. “He really does think you’re lying. He doesn’t know anything about this. Kamoth didn’t tell him.”
“Stop saying that!” Tears of anger gathered in Sergen’s eyes. “My father is no traitor!”
Kara did not reply. Geran glared at his stepcousin, but to his surprise, a small measure of compassion for Sergen stopped him from another sharp retort. By sunrise Sergen would know the truth of events. If Geran had been in his place, he knew he’d find the shame of his father’s actions absolutely unbearable; he might as well allow Sergen to enjoy his ignorance for a few hours more. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll say nothing more on it.”
Sergen looked suspiciously from Geran to Kara. “Where is my father, then?”
Kara sighed and her voice softened. “He’s gone. I think he’s leaving Hulburg.”
“Leaving?” Sergen stared at Kara for a moment. Then, without another word, he brushed his hand across his eyes, turned, and bolted up the stairs leading back to his room.
Geran guessed that his stepcousin did not want to let him see how he’d been wounded. He watched Sergen retreat and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what all of this meant for Sergen, for his aunt Terena … for all of the Hulmasters. Sergen would likely never believe it. Any pleasure Geran might have felt at his stepcousin’s humiliation was rapidly souring in his stomach. Not even Sergen deserved what his father had done.
Kara cocked her head to the side, listening. “I think the fighting’s over,” she said. “I don’t hear any more swordplay.”
“Kamoth’s gone, then.” Geran thought about his father’s instructions and decided he’d better follow them to the letter. “Go check on your mother. And you’d better keep an eye on Sergen, just in case. Watch his door and make sure he doesn’t leave. I’ll stand guard here.”
“All right,” Kara agreed. She started up the stairs but turned to look back at Geran at the bottom of the steps. “Where do you think Kamoth will go now?”
Geran shook his head. “Back to Hillsfar? Or maybe Mulmaster?” Whatever Kamoth had done, Geran almost hoped that he did get away. He didn’t like the idea of watching Kamoth try to answer for what had happened in Griffonwatch this night. “I don’t imagine we’ll see him again. He can’t very well come back after tonight.”
“No, I suppose he can’t,” Kara agreed. She went up the steps, and Geran took up his vigil by the door. He glanced out the window. The rain was passing, and a clear, bright moon was setting over the waters of the Moonsea. Sunrise was not far off, and he’d learn more about Kamoth’s treachery soon enough.
ONE
11 Eleint, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)
Nearly fourteen years later and twenty miles from Hulburg, Geran Hulmaster rode over a steep rise on the coastal trail and found pirates plundering a House Sokol merchant ship.
He halted and stared down at the two ships drawn up on the beach of the nameless cove below him before he recovered from his surprise. Then he spurred his mount down from the ridgeline to take cover behind an outcropping of rock. He was fortunate; the sun was setting behind him. Anyone looking up the hillside from the beach below would see nothing but an eyeful of bright sunshine.