“There are other bastard Hurogs here,” Tychis agreed. “I seen ’em. They work in the stables, or fight in the Guard. They don’t live in the keep—except maybe for Oreg, and he’s a wizard. So what do you want from me?”

“You and I have fourteen brothers and sisters who were not children of my mother,” I said.

Tychis didn’t start, just moved until he could keep an eye on Beckram and me. I half expected to see tears, but he was just pale. I suppose children who survived the streets learned not to cry.

“I was unable to do much for my family until my father died,” I continued. “By then most of them were adults.” One by one, I named them off to him and told him what Hurog was doing to help them. Most I’d given money to, several I’d given land. I’d paid for schooling and doweries, for a fishing boat, for arms and a good horse.

“Of them all,” I said, “you are the only one I know of who was not born on Hurog. You were abandoned to fight for yourself on the streets for the king to pick up on a whim. My father owed you more than that. Later we’ll talk of what you want out of life. But know this, Tychis. As long as I hold Hurog, no blood of my blood will ever stand alone. When you are a man, I expect you to stand up for your family as Beckram has. Now, Ciarra is in her room with Axiel, who is a half-dwarven prince. As a matter of fact, I think he might be a bastard, too. If you are quiet, Ciarra’ll get him telling stories for you.”

When I waved my hand at him, he dodged past me and escaped down the stairs—Ciarra and Beckram were sharing a room in the lower levels of Hurog that was half full of this season’s grain. If I were married, I would have a good reason to find some nook or closet away from everyone, too—instead of being crammed in with a host of other men.

“He doesn’t believe you,” said Beckram, watching Tychis run down the stairs. “He waited until we were out of the room before he informed me that I shouldn’t have defended him in there when old Farrawell snapped at him for interrupting the meeting. He didn’t want me to get into trouble.”

“He will understand,” I said. “Give Ciarra a little time and he’ll be strutting around here arrogant as an Avinhellish lord.”

The polite social expression Beckram wore gave way to a grin. “She does have that effect on men, doesn’t she?”

14
WARDWICK

My father said that if the Oranstonians had liked fighting against the high king half as much as they liked fighting each other, they would have won their rebellion.