helping Bernard. Roth, what about when that thanadent was after your pigs, eh? Who hunted the thing down? And you, Otto-who tracked down your youngest when he went missing and brought him home safe? Bernard, that's who. How can you just sit there?"
Otto, a rounded man with a gentle face and thinning hair looked down.
He took a breath and said, "It isn't that I don't want to help him, Aldo. Furies know. But Kord has a point."
Roth, a spare elderly man with a shock of white hair to go with his darker beard, took a pull from his mug and nodded. "Otto's right. There's more rain coming down than the valley usually sees in an entire autumn. If the valley floods, we will need every bit of strength we can save-to protect all of our lives." He frowned at Aldo, his expression drawing wrinkles to his brow that time had not. "And Steadholder Kord is also correct. You are the youngest here, Aldo. You should show more respect to your elders."
"When they whine like whimpering dogs? Should we do nothing because you might need your strength?" He turned and spat toward Kord. "Convenient for you. His death would end the Meet and you'd be off the hook with Count Gram."
"I'm only thinking of everyone's good, Aldo," Kord rumbled. The shaggy Steadholder split his lips into a yellow-toothed smile. "Say what you want of me, but the life of one man, no matter how fine, isn't worth endangering everyone in the valley."
"We've ridden out furystorms before!"
"But not like this," blurted Otto. Still, the man didn't look up. "This is... different. We haven't seen one this violent before. It makes me nervous."
Roth frowned and said, "I concur."
Aldo stared at them both, his hands clenching in frustration. "Fine," he said then, his tone low, hard. "Which one of you wants to be the one to tell Isana that we're going to sit on our hands and do nothing while her brother bleeds to death on the floor of his own hall?"
No one said anything.
Isana stared at the men, frowning, thinking hard. As she did, Kord passed his mug back to Aric, who refilled it and passed it back to him. Bittan, evidently recovered from his near-drowning, sat with his back against the wall, his head down, one hand half-shielding his eyes as though his head hurt. Isana thought of his cruel treatment of Fade, and hoped that it did.
But something struck her odd about the Kordholders, about the way they had arranged themselves, or carried themselves, in the midst of the storm. It took her a moment to pick it out. They seemed more relaxed than the rest, less concerned about the battling furies outside the hall.
Carefully, she lowered her defenses, just by a bit, in the direction of Kord and his sons.
None of them were afraid.
She could feel nothing, with a casual reaching out of her senses, but a mild tension from Aric.
Thunder flashed again, and she knew she would never be able to raise her defenses again in time. She struggled to anyway-and again, the tide of terrified emotion came a beat later than she expected, enabling her to hold steady against it once more.
She found herself swaying on her feet, and then a hand gripped her arm, another her elbow. She looked up to find Fade standing beside her, holding her steady.
"Mistress," Fade said, ducking his scarred head in a clumsy little bow. The blood on his cut lip had begun to dry, blackening. "Mistress, Stead-holder hurt."
"I know," Isana said. "I heard that you found him. Thank you, Fade."
"Mistress hurt?" The slave tilted his head to one side.
"Fine," Isana breathed. She looked around at the families, huddling together and listening to the fury of the storm outside. "Fade. Does this storm frighten you?"
Fade nodded his head, his expression absent, eyes focusing elsewhere.
"But you're not very afraid?"
"Tavi," Fade said. "Tavi."
Isana sighed. "If anyone can find him in this, it's Bernard. Brutus can protect him from the windmanes, and Cyprus will help him find Tavi. Tavi needs Bernard."
"Hurt," Fade said. "Hurt bad."
"Yes," Isana said, absently. "Stay near for a moment. I may need your help."
The slave grunted, without moving, though his distant expression left Isana uncertain that he had heard the command. She sighed and closed her eyes, reaching out to touch her fury.
"Rill," Isana whispered. She focused intently on an image of Bittan in her mind, picturing the young man as he sat against the wall. The water fury was a