:Hired separately?: Warrl licked his lips. :Then thrown together—that would account for some of the laxness, the lack of coordination. They did act as if each man was following his own set of orders, and to the nether hells with whatever anyone else was doing. And once back at camp, the only thing they did as a group was to set sentries. :

“Exactly.” Tarma sat back on her heels, and stared at the dying fire without really seeing it. “Now why would someone want to throw a group of scum together that they know is going to fall apart the moment the job is over?”

Warrl began pacing back and forth, head swinging from side to side a little. :One would assume that whoever hired them—wanted them caught?:

“Good notion. Let’s think about this—if everything had gone wrong for these fools, what would have happened to them?” Tarma stood up, and joined Warrl in his pacing.

:If they had not been able to take the girl, Rathgar would have been faulted for not protecting her. And I would guess that in any case the mage was ordered to dispose of Rathgar, no matter what the cost. They certainly had the men to assure that.: Warrl paused in his pacing, and looked up at her. :Which would leave the estate in the hands of the boy.:

“Who could be gotten rid of as soon as the bride had produced an heir, or even before.” Tarma scratched an old scar on the back of her hand. “All right—if it had gone half right, and they’d killed Rathgar, but left a force of able-bodied men behind to follow, it would have taken a while to get that force organized. And even if someone had come pounding after them, they’d have had time to get rid of the girl, which would give the family an excuse for blood-feud.”

:If you assume the girl is expendable—: Warrl sounded sour.

Tarma felt just as sour; the Shin‘a’in lived and died for their Clans, and the idea that a man could betray his own blood for the sake of gain curdled her stomach. Not that she hadn’t encountered this before—but it curdled her stomach every time. “I think she is, given who’s probably behind the attack in the first place. Keth already had this one figured. The uncle. Baron Reichert.”

:It fits his style:

“Aye, that. He’d put up his own daughter as an expendable, let alone a mere niece.” She frowned. “Let’s get the horses. I think that once we’re in place, we’d better make the Keep a lot more secure than Rathgar had it, or the bride is likely to be a widow before the year’s out. Assuming she lives that long.”

The sun was approaching zenith by the time Tarma coaxed the weary, footsore horses through the gates of walls about the Keep-lands—and by the tingle on her skin as she passed under the portcullis of the Keep itself, Kethry had already put a mage-barrier about the place.