happened to be the same for a number of generations now.”
“I have no desire to be harmach!” Terena said quickly. “In these circumstances, we need a war leader, someone with courage and vigor. I have little of either. Our friends-and our enemies-need to know that the Hulmasters have not relinquished our claim, but I wouldn’t inspire confidence or fear in anybody.”
Geran felt the gazes of the other Hulmasters shifting to him. He looked down at the table, considering the question. If he asserted his claim he had no doubt that his family would be content to support him. “I’ll assume the title if I must,” he said slowly, “but I would not be very well suited for it. I know nothing of statecraft.”
“Geran, knowledge of statecraft is not a requirement,” his mother said.
“I’ve spent most of my adult life avoiding that sort of responsibility,” he said.
“No one knows that better than I do. I know how restless you’ve always been. Still, you are the only choice if we seek a harmach who could rule today.”
He shook his head. “I mean to go in harm’s way. A harmach must be more careful than that. Let the throne pass to Isolmar’s children, and appoint a regent. Kara’s far and away the best qualified. She’s commanded the Shieldsworn in battle, and she counseled Harmach Grigor for the better part of the last ten years. And-forgive me for saying so, Kara-her spellscar is no drawback for a regent. In fact, it might be seen as an advantage, since she’ll be understood to have no dynastic ambitions of her own.”
The room fell silent for a long time. Finally Kara spoke. “I’ll do it if that is the consensus of the family. But there are two things I think we should consider. First, a harmach would be seen as a more powerful figure than a regent. After all, a regent by her nature would be someone whose reign is soon to end, but a harmach might hold the throne for decades. A harmach’s promises carry more weight, as do his threats. Secondly it’s just been demonstrated to us that our enemies are willing to strike at whoever is harmach. I would be very fearful about naming Natali or Kirr harmach now.”
Erna paled. “Dear gods,” she whispered. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Geran folded his arms in front of his chest and scowled. He hadn’t thought of it, either. Kara’s point about appearances was one thing, but he couldn’t stand the idea of endangering his young cousins simply because he was unwilling to shoulder the title. He looked over to Quillon and asked, “Is there any reason a harmach couldn’t abdicate and appoint a regent for a young successor?”
The halfling scribe gazed upward in thought, considering the question. “No, Lord Geran. The law is generous about allowing a harmach to step down.”
“Very well.” He squared his shoulders and turned back to face his family. “Kara’s convinced me; it’s best that I should do it. But I won’t name myself harmach, not until Hulburg is freed, and Marstel and Rhovann have answered for what they’ve done. Claiming a title we have no power to enforce would appear weaker than not claiming it at all. Someone must be the Lord Hulmaster in name, but we’ll show the Moonsea by our actions, not our words, that we haven’t waived our claim on Hulburg.”
Quillon scribbled on his parchment, then cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, Lord Geran, but in point of fact, you’d be known as the Baron Hulmaster, since that is the precedence accorded your family in other lands.”
“Lord Hulmaster is good enough.” He looked around the room; his mother nodded in approval, Terena appeared relieved, and Erna frowned but nodded as well. He could already feel their expectations settling around him; in the dark and chaotic days since Grigor’s murder they’d all been caught up in the simple process of grieving and the automatic responses of dealing with a death in the family-something that the Hulmasters knew all too well. Geran’s father, Kara’s father, now Isolmar and Grigor both … he could almost believe that some dark curse had settled upon the Hulmaster line. “I still believe I’m not a very good choice to be harmach, but I’ll do what I can to restore our family’s birthright to the next harmach.”
“Should you name a successor in case …?” Erna asked.
“No, and for the same reasons that Uncle Grigor didn’t. At least, I won’t make any sort of formal announcement. Privately … well, if a successor is needed, I wouldn’t be around, so you should do what you think best in my absence. But my recommendation would be that if something should happen to me, Natali becomes the next harmach, and Kara should be her regent.” He waited in case anyone else wished to speak, and nodded to Quillon. “Master Quillon, does this all seem in order to you?”
“It does, my lord har-baron … er, Hulmaster. I’ll have the proper patents and notices drawn up at once.” The old halfling stood and shuffled his papers together. “And I have some correspondence that requires your attention.”
“I’ll be along shortly, Master Quillon,” Geran replied. He waited for the halfling to let himself out of the room, weighing the iron resolve that was beginning to take shape in his heart. Serise, Terena, Erna, and Kara all watched him, perhaps measuring him against their expectations of what a harmach-in name or not-should do next. I’d better begin to get used to that, he realized. Shieldsworn, servants, clerks, scribes, even my own close family, they’ll all be watching to see how I meet each decision, each development, that comes our way. He found himself shivering at the thought, his stomach growing unsettled, and he closed his eyes to gather himself. I don’t even have a kingdom to rule yet, and Hulburg’s a small realm by any measure. How could someone become the King of Tethyr or the coronal of Myth Drannor and stand it?
There’s no sense in wishing for this to go away, he told himself. Before he could reconsider the intent growing in his thoughts, he faced the rest of House Hulmaster and spoke. “Tomorrow, we bury Uncle Grigor,” he said. He let the words stand for a moment to let the others think on them. “But the day after, we begin the war to retake Hulburg. Mother, I think it might be a good idea to take Erna and her children into hiding in Selune’s temple-Aunt Terena too, if she’s willing to go. Too many people know we’re here, and we have enemies who command powerful magic. Natali and Kirr would be safer somewhere else. Kara, your task is to build the Shieldsworn and any exiled Hulburgans willing to join us into an army that can defeat Marstel’s Council Guard. Hire sellswords, recruit adventuring companies, make deals with the merchant costers of the Moonsea, whatever is required. I want to be able to march in the spring.”
Kara nodded, but a frown creased her brow. “You have some other purpose in mind, don’t you?”
He met her eyes, and let the anger that had simmered in him for days put steel into his voice. “Vengeance,” he said. “Before I do anything else, those who ordered Grigor’s murder are going to die under my blade.”
FIVE
Six days after Grigor Hulmaster’s burial, Geran set foot in Hulburg again. He trudged alongside the mud- spattered wagons of a Double Moon caravan, playing the part of a Vastar sellsword. He’d signed on to escort the caravan from Thentia’s crowded merchant yards to Hulburg for a half-dozen gold coins. While the winter ice held in Hulburg’s harbor, the only commerce with the city consisted of a bare handful of overland wagon trains making their way along the windswept coastal road. It was a hard and uncomfortable trek in the depths of winter, but there was money to be made, and so the great trading companies sent their goods creaking along the trails as weather and opportunity permitted.
Geran’s hair was bleached to a dark blond, and he wore a fringe of yellow-dyed beard on his face. A heavy coat of burgundy-colored leather sewn with steel studs hung down to his knees, and he wore a shapeless, baglike hat of the same color. He’d cultivated a relentless pipe habit, marching along from dawn to dusk with a pipestem clamped between his teeth and as often as not a wisp of aromatic smoke ringing his head. It had taken every bit of stubbornness he possessed to keep Kara from sending disguised Shieldsworn along with him. She’d argued that it was beyond foolish for him to venture into Hulburg alone, risking capture-and most likely a swift, unpleasant death-at the hands of Hulburg’s enemies. He’d finally won his way by persuading Kara that a small number of Shieldsworn wouldn’t substantially add to his safety, while a large number following him about would simply make it much more likely that his ruse would be noticed. Even then he’d had to threaten to renounce the lordship altogether if that was what it would take for her to agree that he could set out for Hulburg on his own.
At the Double Moon tradeyard, Geran stood in line with the other caravan guards to be paid off, complained a
