“Only since we halted. They planned to steal your carriage, kill the guards and nobles; you, they wished to take alive. They were forbidden to use me, but for you they had no orders.”
Aisling snorted. “They’d have regretted that. I’m no court maiden to squeal and faint if I’m seized. And the man who sent them would have killed them all very very slowly if he found out I’d been violated.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s my oldest brother. A fool who thinks his path to power is black sorcery,” Aisling told her briefly. “He’d like to have me in his hands even more than he’d be pleased to have you.”
The witch looked apprehensive. She was cold, exhausted, hungry, and her wrists were a flaring agony. She began to shake. “Your brother? And the men with you, what will they say of me?”
“Don’t worry. I loathe him a lot more than you ever will. He’s tried to kill me or have me kidnapped more than once. The men with me are a friend and my other brother.” She surveyed the shaking form. “Now, we have a problem. We had seven guards with us. Three survived the attack. They’re hirelings from Kars. They’ll take one look at you, recognize you for what you are, and either try to kill you or denounce us the minute they return.”
Aisling rose to look over the patiently waiting mounts. On one saddle she found a long cloak, on another a mail jerkin with attached coif. The owner had not been a large man. With extra padding it would fit the witch but, she looked back at the girl, not now. The freed captive was clearly in no condition to be hauled around the countryside in forty pounds of mail and on a weary horse.
They needed to stay here and rest but for the problem of the guards. She took up the cloak. “Wear this, wrap it well about you, and pull down the hood. Wind Dancer, you lie beside her and listen. Witch, hide in that patch of scrub. I must get my brother and friend aside and make plans. We have to rid ourselves of the guards we have with us else we are all betrayed. I shall return as soon as I can.” She produced a bag found with the cloak.
“Meanwhile, eat. There’s oatcakes here and cold meat. You have the canteen. I’ll be as swift as I can. You should be safe here for a while, and there’s no more I can do for you just now.” She ended her instructions with a questioning tone, inviting comment. There was none, so she turned to climb the slope.
Once at the top she heard small sounds as of someone approaching. There was no attempt to be more than reasonably quiet. Aisling drifted behind a tree and waited to see, as she’d expected, that it was Keelan who came seeking her. She stepped out to meet him, smiling.
“All’s well, brother. The two of Kirion’s men who remained are dead. The witch is freed. I left her eating and drinking, cloaked and hidden with Wind Dancer. What of the three who came your way?”
“Dead also. Of our guards, the one badly injured should be returned to Kars in the carriage. How many horses are with your witch?”
“Eleven. They are no fine bloods but they’re good hill-country beasts. They’re leg weary but not in ill condition. But my witch as you name her… Kee, if the guards see her, we’re all in great danger.”
“I know. Rann and I made a plan. We knew you’d free her then come seeking us. Listen, Aisling. Rann is telling the guards to take their friend and return to seek a healer in Kars. They’re willing to listen since their captain is dead and the badly wounded man is cousin to the other two. We said we would take the bandit horses and ride on to Jam’s keep. It is no more than a few hours from here. They are to return with a full guard and the carriage in a ten-day.”
“And us?”
He grinned cheerfully. “We sneak back into Estcarp with our witch, turn her and the spare horses over to the first small patrol we find to help repay what those scum of Kirion’s did there, and pray that the patrol doesn’t decide to kill us as a better repayment.”
His sister eyed him. “And just what did Rann say to this?”
“I won’t repeat it. He cast some reflection on our parentage and soundness of mind.”
“I bet he did!”
“Well, can you think of a better idea?”
Aisling sighed. “No.”
“Nor could Hadrann, so that’s what we’re doing. He would like to send you to Jam at Trevalyn keep. I told him if we all went we’d never get away from them in less than a week, and what did we do with the witch? Not much sense in rescuing her then letting her die out here. And if he tried to send you alone you’d just double back and join us again past the border. So he cursed some more and agreed to the plan.”
Aisling chuckled. She could imagine the exasperated conversation that had prefaced Keelan’s return to find her. Poor Hadrann. But he’d succumbed to Kee’s argument finally. That was good. She didn’t have to waste time doing her own arguing. As they talked they’d been trotting back toward where Hadrann waited with the surviving guards. Once there Aisling looked over the injuries. Many keep ladies were skilled in herb lore and wound care.
The injuries were minor in one case—a sprained shoulder easily treated with a sling—and the same man had a shallow messy cut along his side. She cleaned it carefully, dressed and bandaged the injury, then turned to the other victim. That was far more serious, as they’d feared. The cut was deep into the leg, a sword slash that had also broken the bone. The man would be unable to ride, and the wound should be stitched. She could do that as a temporary measure.
Once the man was back in Kars the healers could cut the stitches and redo her work more skillfully if such was needed. Wound fever was likely, and they could treat that better in Kars as well. Both guards were watching her, concern on their faces. She spoke quietly, telling them her beliefs. One hesitated.
“Lady Murna, we hired on to guard you.”
“And well you did so,” she agreed. “But the keep of our friend’s cousin is only three hours’ ride away. The bandits left good riding beasts saddled, bridled, and able to get us to the keep in that time. Better you take our carriage and make for the city. Your kinsman will find skilled help there for the wounds he incurred in aiding us. I will write a letter to go with you. My cousin and his friend will also sign it so none query you and your return without us.”
He nodded wearily. “My thanks, Lady Murna. We shall obey.”
Hadrann and the unwounded guard lifted the injured man. He was carried gently to where the carriage and its patient horses still stood. Once there he was placed carefully within and padded about with spare clothing to ensure he was not easily jolted from his reclining position. The horses belonging to the dead guards and those who had survived were hitched in a line. The lightly injured man would drive the carriage. His unwounded cousin would lead the mounts. They took up their places, then waited for the promised letter.
Aisling removed her bag, took out a scrap of paper, trimmed her quill and unsealed the tiny bottle of ink. She wrote swiftly before passing the paper on to her brother and friend to be signed. Then she waved it in the air. The ink dried and the paper was folded, sealed with Hadrann’s seal ring, and the guards farewelled.
“Return for us in ten days.” The man addressed acknowledged the order with a slight bow.
“That I will do, my Lord, and a full six-guard with me. On my life I swear it.”
Aisling read his sincerity and smiled. “I know that only if you yourself were slain would you fail to keep your word. Care for your kinsman and bring word back with you. I would know how he does.”
The guard’s bow this time was as deep as a man on horseback could manage. “I will bring word, my Lady. The thanks of my house for your healing.” He nudged his mount into a steady walk, the carriage swung in behind, and the small procession vanished down the trail. As soon as it did so Aisling was also in motion. Trotting quickly back toward the hollow where the witch waited in hiding. Keelan and Hadrann made further plans as they followed.