Free Under Camelot's Banner by Sarah Zettel

trying to eye each other and the steward at the same time.
    Had the situation not brought them so close to war and tragedy, Lynet would have laughed.
    The remains of the food lay everywhere, filling the air with tempting smells, but none moved toward it save father. Apparently satisfied that his authority had been remembered, Lord Kenan mounted the dais and sat himself in the center of the table. He lifted a cup and Lynet hurried to reclaim her crock and fill the silver vessel to brimming. As she withdrew, he touched her arm in reassurance, and Lynet smiled.
    Lord Kenan drank off his cup of cider and set the mug down. “Now.” He wiped his mouth and beard. “What business could not wait for my return?”
    â€œWell Peran?” Mesek folded his arms, stepping back so he could view the other man more clearly. “You’ve been quick enough to speak before now. Will you tell our lord steward what brings us here?”
    The fingers of Peran’s good hand rubbed together, searching for the knife left behind on the table, Lynet was sure. “Lord Kenan,” he said, each word grating against his wounded throat. “It was in the day of the first thaw that we drove our cattle down to the river to drink. Mesek and the men of Kynhoem fell on us there, and after much fighting they stole the better part of our herd. We left two dead behind us as we pursued them, but darkness prevented our catching them.”
    He dragged in a long, heavy breath. The burn on his face seemed to darken as he spoke, growing redder as if his skin remembering the fire which wounded it so terribly. “We went to Mesek next day, not for the return of the kyne, but for bloodprice for those men dead at the hands of his people. He denied us. Denied the raid was his doing, and that the dead were laid low by his hand. He bid us leave without any other answer.
    â€œHonor would not permit such cowardice.” Peran’s voice rumbled lower, the words rasping and hissing, like the sea speaking to stones. “Instead, we followed the trail his men had taken after the raid and in so doing we found the hidden paddock on the moor where they kept the beasts, they thought, from our eyes.” His hands twitched, and he coughed, and coughed again. Lynet felt her own breath grow shallow in sympathy. “My son led the way to the gate while I and my men circled behind. In the fighting, a fire began, burning the barn, and while … and while my son Tam worked beside Mesek’s men to save the herd, both ours and those lawfully theirs, Mesek came up … he came up behind my son who was trying to save his wealth and he hoisted Tam into his arms and tossed him onto the fire as if he were a fagot for the burning.”
    This then was where his burns had come from. Lynet closed her eyes against the image of a desperate Peran diving into the fire, striving to pull his son free, and failing.
    Father was silent for a moment, acknowledging the death for what it was. Bishop Austell crossed himself, murmuring his own prayer. Lynet glanced at Laurel, and at Colan. Laurel permitted no emotion to disturb the set of her face. Colan … Colan was clenched tight and all his attention was on their father.
    â€œThis is a foul deed you speak of,” said Lord Kenan seriously. “If it is true, the angles must weep at it. I wonder you did not take your vengeance at that instant.”
    â€œI wish to God that I had. I stayed my hand.” Peran held up his ravaged and crooked hand. “I was too wounded to strike back as I should, and more, I wanted all the world to know Mesek was a liar and a murderer. I would have his goods forfeit! His followers driven from their hovels! There is not blood enough in him to pay for this thing!”
    Father waited, patient, unmoved. It was only when Peran fell silent, and all could see the tears of pain and loss streaming down his ravaged face that the steward turned to the other man standing