“Don’t say things like that, Kord,” Tavi’s uncle replied. “You’ll frighten the boy.”
Kord’s eyes flicked to Tavi, and the boy felt suddenly uneasy under that intense and angry regard.
“He come into any furies yet, or are you finally going to admit what a useless little freak he is?”
The simple comment pierced Tavi like a thorn, and he opened his mouth to make a furious response.
Bernard settled his hand on Tavi’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry about my nephew.” He glanced at Bittan. “After all, you’ve got other concerns. Why don’t you head on down to the steadholt? I’m sure Isana is getting something ready for you.”
“Think we’ll stay here a while,” Kord said. “Maybe eat a little breakfast.”
“Suit yourself,” Bernard said, and stared on down the lane. Tavi followed close behind them. Bernard ignored Kord until they had crossed the footbridge. “Oh,” Bernard said, looking over his shoulder. “I forgot to mention that Warner already came in last night, Kord. His sons are on leave from the Legions so that they could visit their father.”
“Bring them on,” Bittan snapped. “We’ll tear them apa—”
Kord delivered an openhanded blow to Bittan’s face that knocked the boy to the ground. “Shut your mouth.”
Bittan shook his head, dazed and scowling. He didn’t answer Kord or look at his father as he stood up.
“Go on down,” Bernard said. “I’m sure we can get everything worked out.”
Kord didn’t reply. He beckoned his sons with a curt gesture and started down the lane. They followed him, and Bittan cast a harsh, hateful glare at Tavi as he walked. “Freak.”
Tavi clenched his hands into fists, but let the comment pass. Bernard nodded his approval, and they waited as Kord and his sons headed down the lane to Bernardholt.
As they watched, Tavi said, “They were there to attack Warner, weren’t they, uncle?”
“It’s possible,” Bernard said. “That’s why your aunt asked Warner to come in last night. Kord is desperate.”
“Why? It’s Bittan that’s been accused, not him.”
“Rape is a realm offense,” Bernard answered. “Kord is the family head, and he shares responsibility for offenses against the realm. If the truthfind shows that there needs to be a trial, and Bittan is judged guilty, Count Gram could remove Kord’s claim to Kordholt.”
“You think he’d kill to protect it?” Tavi asked.
“I think men who lust for power are capable of almost anything.” He shook his head. “Kord sees power as something to satisfy his desires, instead of a tool to protect and serve the people beholden to him. It’s a stupid attitude, and it will eventually get him killed—but until then it makes him dangerous.”
“He scares me,” Tavi said.
“He scares anyone with good sense, boy.” Bernard passed his bow to Tavi and opened a pouch on his belt. He withdrew a small glass button from it and dropped it over the side of the footbridge and into the brook. “Rill,” he said firmly. “I need to speak to Isana, please.”
They waited there on the bridge for several moments before the sounds of the brook began to change. A column of water rose straight up out of the brook, taking on human form as it did so, until it had formed into a liquid sculpture of Tavi’s aunt, Isana, a woman with the youthful form and features of a strong watercrafter, but the bearing and voice of a mature adult.
The sculpture peered around, eventually focusing on Bernard and Tavi. “Good morning, Bernard, Tavi.” Her voice sounded tinny, as if it had come down to them through a long tube.
“Aunt Isana,” Tavi said, bowing his head politely.
“Sis,” Bernard drawled. “We just ran into Kord and his sons. They were waiting around in the brush near the north bridge.”
Isana shook her head. “The fool can’t be serious.”
“I think he was,” Bernard said. “I think he knows that with what Bittan did, Gram will get him this time.”
Isana’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I doubt having a woman appointed the truthfinder for this crime has pleased him, either.”
Bernard nodded. “You might want to make sure someone is close, just in case. They’re coming down the lane to you now.”
Isana’s image in the water frowned. “When will you return?”
“Before noon, with luck. Before dinner, otherwise.”
“Try to hurry. I’ll keep things civil for as long as I can, but I’m not sure anyone but you can make Kord back down without shedding blood.”
“I will. Be careful.”
Isana nodded. “And you. Old Bitte says that Garados and his wife are brewing up a storm for us, by nightfall at the latest.”
Tavi shot an uneasy glance to the northeast, where the towering mountain of Garados sat glowering down at the inhabitantsof the Calderon Valley. Its upper slopes were already growing white with ice, and clouds obscured the topmost peaks, where the hostile fury of the towering mountain conspired with Lilvia, the fury of the cold gales blowing over the great Sea of Ice to the north. They would gather in clouds like herds of cattle, feed them to anger on the day’s light, and drive them down over the inhabitants of the valley in a furystorm as the sun set.
“We’ll be back long before then,” Bernard assured her.
“Good. Oh, Tavi?”
“Yes, Aunt Isana?”
“Do you have any idea where Beritte would have acquired a fresh garland of hollybells?”
Tavi shot his uncle a guilty glance and blushed. “I guess she must have found them somewhere.”
“I see. She isn’t yet of marrying age, she’s too irresponsible to care for a child, and she certainly is too young to wear hollybells. Do you think she’ll be finding any more?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Excellent,” Isana said rather crisply. “We’ll discuss the matter when you return.”
Tavi winced.
Bernard held on to his chuckle until the water sculpture had lowered itself back into the brook, the contact with Isana ending as it did. “No girl, eh? I thought Fred was the one walking out with Beritte.”
“He is.” Tavi sighed. “She’s probably wearing them for him. But she asked me to get them for her and . . . well it seemed a lot more important at the time.”
Bernard nodded. “There’s no shame in making a mistake, Tavi—provided you learn from it. I think you’d be smart to think of this as a lesson in priorities. So?”
Tavi frowned. “So what?”
Bernard kept smiling. “What have you learned this morning?”
Tavi glowered at the ground. “That women are trouble, sir.”
Bernard’s mouth opened in a sudden, merry roar of laughter. Tavi looked up at his uncle, and cast him a hopeful grin. Bernard’s eyes shone with merriment. “Oh, lad. That’s about half of the truth.”
“What’s the other half?”
“You want them, anyway,” Bernard said. He shook his head, the smile lingering in his eyes, his mouth. “I did one or two stupid things to impress a girl in my day.”
“Was it worth it?”