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brother.
    Lynet, having no other choice, did the same.
    Behind them, voices rose and the sounds of work began again, but muted now and more sporadic than before. The arrival of Kynhoem and Treanhal had drained the joy from the celebration, at least for now and it was a stranger and far less merry procession that trooped through the empty
castell
to the great house.
    Cambryn’s great house sprawled on the hilltop with the smaller dwellings spreading around it like a woman’s rumpled skirts. Like the rest of Cambryn, it had grown up unevenly over uncounted years. It was by now, Lynet admitted to herself, a strange and ungainly place. Two separate halls thrust out at right angles from a round tower, which looked as if it stood between two disputing neighbors, keeping them from coming at each other. The oldest hall had stood in its place across a hundred generations, being constantly rebuilt on stones laid down in times too ancient to be remembered. The tower at the ancient hall’s eastern end had been meant as a defence against the Romans, who never did manage to cross the moors to conquer the Dumonii. Instead, the Romans had sailed around the coast to buy their tin openly, and a flood of wealth had come to Cambryn. That wealth had built the second hall in an imitation of the Roman style with tiled floors, limed walls, many rooms, and many hearths to try to keep those rooms warm and dry against their land’s cold and frequent rains.
    As they crossed the open fields, Colan kept himself as firmly between Mesek and Peran as their tower kept itself between the two mis-matched halls. Not much talk passed between them, or their men, only black or worried looks. Lynet found herself watching her brother’s broad back, trying to divine some hint of what he was thinking from his posture. Something nagged at her, but she could not have begun to say what it was.
    Once they passed the first ring of ditches and earthworks, the horse paddock came into view. Colan paused, bowing in apology to Mesek and Peran both. “I fear our stablemen are down at the tinning,” he said. “For the moment, you must care for your beasts yourself. Darney can show you the stables.” He pointed at the lone boy with his withered arm who had come to hang over the slatted gate and gawp at the strangers arriving with the high family.
    Mesek grunted his assent and gestured to two of his men who took charge of the beasts. Peran did the same. Men and horses followed the stooped and openly curious Darney to the muddy yard and thatched stables. Colon eyes narrowed.
That much is done,
Lynet could all but hear him think. Four men separated. The threat, if there was one, had been reduced by that much.
    Once inside the second ring of earthworks, Lynet could not help but feel a little more at ease. Cambryn’s high house had in its time been home to kings of legend, to Roman traders, and to the lesser kings and greater kings that came in the four generations after the Romans left, and finally to Lynet and her family. This was their place and their people. There was only so much mischief ten strangers could work here.
    Colan led the remaining party around to the old hall pushed back the great, black-timbered door. The hall echoed in its emptiness. Only Ross, Dai and Bram, three graybeard brothers, sat around the central fire. The old men all rose stiffly to their feet and made their bows, their dim eyes and deeply-lined faces frankly stunned to see strangers today. Still, Lynet could understand why Colan had brought them all here. This place was the seat of law in Cambryn, empty or full. The dais stood in the middle of one long wall, with the empty throne waiting on its top stair, and the steward’s seat only one step below.
    While Laurel directed the brothers to bring extra chairs and benches for their guests, Lynet checked the kettle hanging over the second fire and found there was enough of the milk posset left to share around as a