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.
VIII
Aisling had again been looking out of the window. She’d woken early, and with sunrise lighting the sky, she had risen to enjoy the massed clouds as they changed from fire red to orange and then to a softening pink. The whole sky became light, and as objects sharpened she blinked.
“Hadrann? Hadrann, come and look at this.”
“What is it?”
“I still can’t see very well because most of it is almost around the window corner. But it looks as if there’s an army out there camped along the city wall and across the main gate.”
“What?” came the bellow from across the suite. Hadrann bolted in from his bedroom, hastily shrugging his robe about him. “Where?”
Aisling pointed in silence as he leaned far out of the window and gaped. He studied the single large siege machine and considered the orderly lines of tents and soldiers. His lips moved as he counted the horse lines. His eyes went to the pennants flying from a much larger tent to the rear. His mouth curved in a sardonic grin.
“Well, well, well. So Kirion’s plans overreached. That’s the Coast Clan pennant flying out there, and judging by the part of the army I can see, Lord Franzo must have over eight hundred men at least by the Kars gates. I can see a few independent keep pennants too.”
“What will they do, Rann? Do you think Franzo plans to attack the city?” Her voice became thoughtful. “Hold on. Lord Franzo, that isn’t the clan’s leader, is it?”
“Nope. But it’s Franzo all right. I recognize his personal pennant below the clan one. He’s cousin to the main line but he’s also a good, experienced, and canny fighter. He was a mercenary leading a small company in his younger days. Maybe the clan decided to give him war leader rights. Franzo isn’t one to make a move before he knows what he’s doing, and the next in line is or maybe was the sort of fool who would. If Franzo’s in charge something must have happened to the next in line too. He’s a hothead. He wouldn’t give up his position for anything short of his life, not if he could prevent it.”
In a palace tower some distance away, a hysterical duke was asking similar questions. Kirion tossed a spell at him that left Shastro sitting mutely in a chair, a dazed look on his face. Kirion went on with his scrying. Finally he stood up. He opened and shut his mouth, then in the end made no sound. Matters had gone farther and faster than a few oaths could relieve.
He thought of the duke. Bother the man. It looked as if Kirion would have to postpone any change of ruler for a while. He required Shastro to give the official orders and, he smiled sinisterly, to take the blame for any and all events if it came to that.
Apart from anything else, his own powers were only at any strength as long as he had those he could drain of their own gift. Shastro’s soldiers found those victims for Kirion, and it would be better if the duke could also be blamed for those deaths if something ever went wrong. He flicked his fingers, and Shastro, unaware that he’d been briefly silenced, was off again. His sorcerer permitted him to babble until he ran down, then spoke slowly.