The sun rose over the jutting points of Tieko’s Ridge, and the muted orange glow that had hung over Sheld cleared. On his balcony patio, Lerran shared a breakfast with Tassina; they dined on scrambled eggs and sausages, with a warmed honey mead. From their balcony, they could see the north side of the Gharo estate, where a two-man patrol of their family’s guards continued their rounds. The estate had a single storey stone wall around it, with no rampart. On each corner and on the longest sides, a small tower rose, where a guard could climb up to look off the property.
Tass spoke up and Lerran looked back at her. “So, Gadra will support you, and I’ve already spoken to my friend Isar. Many of the guards will back you.”
Lerran nodded. “I’ll be going to my other sisters today, and maybe Aunt Mara.”
“Are you worried?” Tass asked.
“I’ll be careful,” he replied. “Are you?”
“A little.” She took a drink of her mead. She lowered the cup, and smiled at him. “But… Lerran, head of the Family. Tass, wife of Lerran… It has quite a ring to it.”
“You’ll get the best either way,” Lerran said, matching her smile.
Before they finished breakfast, a knock came at the door. It was one of the errand boys, though Lerran couldn’t quite recall his name. The young man said, “News today, from the port. Told to Gharo and a few who were with him already, and they thought you’d find it interesting too.”
“Well, what’s the news?” Lerran asked. He was standing the doorway, with his sword at his waist and the door in his hand.
“Word came on a ship—there’s been fighting in Kedar. It’s said that Havard’s Brothers have taken the Tower of Black and Blue, backed by the Mining Group,” the messenger explained.
“What about the others, the Saltwater Army?” Lerran asked, caught off guard.
“No word on them,” said the errand boy. “But they certainly don’t have the strength to fight the new power.”
Lerran sighed as the messenger left and closed the door.
His first order of business for the day was to see where Yarua stood on the issue at hand; when she wasn’t in her quarters, he went to Gadra’s room next door. The two were eating their own breakfast when he knocked on the door and stuck his head in.
“You should wait, when you knock,” Gadra said with a smile. “What if it wasn’t our other sister in here with me?”
Yarua giggled. Unlike Gadra’s braid, she kept her brown hair straight and shoulder length. She lifted her head so it fell out of her face and waved Lerran to an empty chair.
He sat down with them, grinning. “Your father won’t let you outside, why would he let someone in?”
Gadra laughed and said, “I’m not under house arrest any more. Father came down here two days ago and said, ‘if you’re going to try to usurp me, better succeed,’ called me a useless brat, and stormed out again.”
“Old fool,” Yarua said.
Lerran shook his head. “What do you think about him, then? He’s close to sixty… is old age getting to him?”
Gadra grinned and leaned back. “Here we go…” She picked up her mug.
“What do I think of father?” Yarua asked. She put her hands on the table. “Gadra asked me that before she tried her little revolt… He should’ve died years ago. He’s holding us back, and what do we do to people who stand in the way of the Family?”
“Get rid of them?” Lerran asked.
Yarua flicked her hair again. “You cut their throat and find a sewer to hide the body.”
Lerran snorted in surprise and held his breath. “We’re not that far along yet,” he chuckled. “There’s some plans to work on first…”
Gadra joined his laugh at Yarua’s unconcealed hatred. She nodded. “Well, that’s three of us… If only Ren was here…”
“Will you go to Antha next?” Yarua asked. “Neither of us have spoken to her…”
“Right after this,” Lerran said.
He found his twin sister exactly where he expected her, their training yard. She was sparring with Master Lann, a sword master from the city, as was her usual practice. There were only a dozen or so people in Sheld—that could be trusted—for her to fight as a worthy opponent. Lerran waited for their bout to finish, and it lasted more than ten minutes. Once it was done, Master Lann bowed and paced away from the yard.
Antha didn’t speak with him right after she finished, but took a drink of water from a canteen and wiped her sweat away with a thick woolen cloth. Once she had caught her breath, she waved him toward her.
“Come to spar with me, brother?” she asked, smiling. She had a short bobbed haircut, and a scar under her eye. As the sun rose, her skin—more tanned than her siblings—seemed to glow.
“Not today, sister, not today,” he said. “Just to chat.”
“Chit chat… wasted breath…” She hooked her sparring sword onto the nearby rack. “Walk with me?”
Lerran followed her as she started a cool down walk, around the property. The Gharo estate had a handful of groomed trees, a couple fruit-bearing ones along the east wing. She headed toward them. “You heard about the trouble Gadra got?” Lerran asked.
“’course,” Antha said. “Who didn’t hear? Father likes chat too… but I’ve never been any good at it. Just good at moving, that’s all.”
Lerran tried to keep a blank face. “What do you think of what Gadra tried?”
His twin shrugged. “Well, it didn’t work.” They reached the nearest tree, and she grabbed an orange from a low hanging branch.
“What if it had worked?” Lerran asked, trying not to sound frustrated.
“Then she’d be in charge, or you would,” she said. “The inner workings of this Family aren’t of great concern to me.”
“Would you be willing to help?” Lerran asked, with the faintest smile.
Antha blinked and looked at him. “I said, I’m not concerned with how things play out. Go talk to one of the schemers.” She looked away from him, and started peeling her orange. She was still sweating from her earlier exertion.
“Just don’t say anything to Father,” Lerran said.
She just kept working on her orange, and didn’t look up. He shook his head. That could have gone better, he thought, and started to walk away.
His Aunt Mara was writing some letters when he knocked on her door. A guard let him in at her beckon, and he sat across a desk from her. She held up one finger and then continued writing her words. She was the eldest of his Father’s sisters, a woman over fifty, with a wealth of experience at politics and business, and dealing with Gharo.
She soon finished her letter and put the quill back into its inkwell. “How can I help you, nephew?”
“Have you spoken with your brother recently?” Lerran asked.
She smiled. “Of course,” she said. “Just yesterday. We’re planning some contracts toward Eastpoint. I manage to talk some sense into him.”
“Some sense to my father,” he said, with a sarcastic laugh.
Mara nodded cheerfully. “Someone has to, and you were gone on your voyage for a month.”
“I was looking for my brother and yours,” Lerran said. “Father wouldn’t have…”
“I know he wouldn’t.” She poured two glasses of wine, without standing up from her desk, and set one across from her.
He took it with a nod. “Thanks,” he said. He took a sip, then put on a ponderous face. “What do you think of his leadership?”
Mara grinned. She had wrinkles under her eyes, but they lifted with her mirth. “What leadership?” she asked. “Your father is a ruthless man. Gharo cares only for furthering the fear and power of Gharo; even as young siblings, it was like this, but the loss of your mother didn’t help. All the same, he’s done a good of it.”
“Do you think it’s time for the Family to have a new leader?” he asked, setting down his wine.
“I do,” she allowed. She took a sip of hers. “You went away for a time, and came back… and now you’re full of visions of leadership?”
“I was dissatisfied before,” Lerran said, shrugging. “I’ve helped him for years, but he’s holding us back.”
“That’s true, I think,” his aunt said. “Your secret is safe with me. I don’t want to leave this world knowing he’s still enforcing his madness. My Family deserves better. Shall we drink to it?” Lerran nodded and raised his glass. Time to hatch a plan…