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“You can leave out the rest,” Hadrann said grimly. “I know what comes next and so does Keelan. But why doesn’t the duke like you any more? Oh!” He started to smile.

Aisling mustered a small grin to match. “Yes, I was sick all over him. He said I was disgusting. He started to march me away. He was calling up the stairs for one of his guards there to take me back to my room. I was two stairs in front of the duke when I was sick on the stairs too.” She produced a tiny giggle. “Shastro stepped in it and skidded. He didn’t fall down the stairs, but he went to one knee and had to put his hand down for balance. He… um… he put his hand…”

Hadrann was already snickering. Her brother stared at her, envisioning the scene. “He put his hand…” he said blankly before comprehension dawned. He gave a shuddering indrawn snort then grabbed for a pillow. For a long agonizing time the three of them howled silently into muffling items. At length Keelan lifted his head. Tears of laughter had run down his face, and his hair was sticking up in tufts.

“Yes,” he informed his sister. “I can see why the duke doesn’t like you any more. I’m not sure that if it had been me, I’d like you either.”

Hadrann surfaced to look at them. “And Shastro always so fussy about his dignity. Then he slips in sick and puts his hand in it, right in front of a couple of guards.” That set them off again.

Wind Dancer, looking dignified, was sitting by Aisling. Humans did the oddest things, said his pose. Hadrann glanced at the cat, caught the eyes of his friends, and they too looked. Something about the cat’s dignity reminded them of Shastro again, and they laughed until tears ran down their faces. Wind Dancer ignored it all firmly. You had to make allowances for humans.

Aisling sobered first. “Shastro doesn’t have to worry about me. He knows no noblewoman would tell a story about herself like that. It’s bad luck for the guards though. Unless they’ve cleared out pretty quickly he’ll have them quietly removed. He’d know no guard would be able to keep a tale like that to himself for long.”

Hadrann stood and reached for a purse on the small table. “I’ll see if they’ve gone yet, maybe a few coins would give them a better chance to get clear.” He smiled unpleasantly. “And it would be useful if they do get clear and can tell that tale all over the south of Karsten. It won’t improve the duke’s reputation with most keeps.”

Keelan waved him to stop. “And what if they also spread the name of the girl across half of Karsten. Someone might start asking who this cousin is and why they don’t know of her.” Hadrann had halted and was listening.

“That isn’t all, Rann. If the tale gets about and folk start laughing, the duke will think of some way to take it out on Aisling. I don’t like it and I’m sorry for the guards, but they’ll have to manage alone.”

Hadrann turned back and very slowly and gently replaced the purse where it had been. His every controlled movement spoke of rage held under tight rein. “I don’t like it either, but you’re right.” He went to the door and called an order before turning back to speak to his friends.

“We’ll eat here tonight. I think it best Shastro doesn’t see any of us about for a day or two. Let him get over it and believe Aisling has said nothing.”

They stayed in the Aranskeep rooms the next day, all day. After that, they went hunting. They took food, water, a flask of wine, and had a wonderful time. No duke to placate, no courtiers to gossip, just the three of them and Wind Dancer, who’d been smuggled out in his carrysack. They came back after a second day of hunting with a deer, which Hadrann presented to the duke. It was a young buck and excellent eating for the ducal table. Shastro was graciously pleased. It appeared the girl had said nothing to anyone. He was pleased with that too.

As for the guards, he’d had them taken before they could flee. Oh, they had intended to run, to blacken his name all over Karsten, to make a laughingstock of their duke. There’d been no doubt of it; they’d been found packing, and one had already saddled his horse. It was well they’d been caught in time.

Probably they were witches themselves or in the pay of Estcarp. Kirion had warned him about all that. A good friend, Kirion. It was only his sorcerer who really looked after the duke of Karsten. Kirion was the only man Shastro could trust. So when his sorcerer had asked for the guards, he’d given them to him. He’d seen the bodies later, and Kirion had told him how right the duke had been and how clever to move so quickly. They had been spies from Estcarp.

Estcarp, he mused. One day he must clean out that witches’ nest. If it wasn’t spies it was assassins. He suspected that Lord Ru-art’s disappearance was due to some Estcarp plot. Kirion thought so too. Well, here were two spies who would not be reporting. They’d not be talking to anyone of the duke’s loss of dignity. Estcarp would have to find something else to laugh about. Shastro’s satisfied smile was a compound of smug approval and satisfaction—with an underlying hint of madness.

VI

Shastro had decided not to have anything done to Aisling. Her cousin and that brother of Kirion’s who always seemed to be near them had betrayed no knowledge of events. At first he stayed away from her completely, but after a seven-day he drifted back. He liked her. She was amusing and listened to him honestly, he could tell. Not, as many of his courtiers did, fawningly and with incomprehension.

No, little Murna understood the thoughts of her duke and she wasn’t averse to pointing out where he was wrong, which was a novelty. She had done so just that evening, speaking of the poor people and how they looked to their leader, about how a good leader could guide rather than drive. Shastro had found it unexpectedly touching. It would be pleasant if his people looked upon him in that way, he said wistfully before everyone retired.

Afterward, in their suite, Hadrann looked at Aisling. “Be careful cousin. He’s weak and he sees enemies in every shadow. That’s how your brother controls him. If Shastro starts to lean toward hearing you, Kirion is going to start a rumor, probably that you’re an Estcarp spy.”

Keelan, who’d joined them by the small rear door, nodded. “And the first thing he’d do is to begin inquiries around Aranskeep. After that if he can’t find any gossip he’ll make some. Shastro is ner-vous enough to look under his bed and in his closets for assassins every night.”

“You mean he really does!” Aisling looked astounded.

“That’s the gossip in the servants’ quarters. Our guard captain picked it up. I don’t know if it is true, but I know that the servants believe it. Harran says they’re scared of the duke and Kirion scares them into total terror, but, as I said, Shastro is a little crazy. He sees Estcarp witches behind it every time he trips over the mat. Kirion wouldn’t have too much trouble convincing the duke that you’re a witch, and since you are, if Kirion starts applying tests, too much is going to show up.”

“Shastro likes me,” Aisling objected. “He wouldn’t want to hurt me. He didn’t even do anything about that other stuff. Just didn’t talk to us for a while.”

Hadrann drank off the wine he had poured and sat down looking at her earnestly. “Aisling, you don’t understand a man like Shastro. I’ve been at court on and off for several years. The fact that he likes you makes it more likely he’d move against you, not less.” He waved a hand at her when she would have interrupted. “Keep it shut a moment cousin and listen.”

“Shastro is weak, easily led, and Kirion has worked him up into a permanent belief that Estcarp has spies and assassins everywhere. I heard some nasty things about the duke’s childhood. He fears to care about anyone. He believes that if he likes someone, then she or he has to be an enemy or will abandon him in some way. Kirion has built on that fear until he’s the only person Shastro believes and trusts.