by Sharon Shinn
“We’re trying to learn to communicate words without speaking them out loud. But so far we’re not having much success. The most that comes through is a sort of feeling. Like, I don’t hear Jerril tell me ‘run,’ but I have a sudden urge to go dashing through the house.”
“And can you send the same thought to Jerril?” Donnal asked.
Cammon nodded. “Usually. But Jerril is more sensitive than anyone I’ve ever met. I don’t have as much luck with Areel.”
“Can you send some kind of thought to me?” Donnal asked.
Cammon considered. “I don’t know. I could try.”
“Is it more likely to work because Donnal’s a mystic?” Amalie asked.
“I don’t know that, either,” Cammon said. “I can usually read Tayse’s and Justin’s moods, and they’re not mystics. But I don’t know if I could send thoughts to them. I haven’t tried.”
“I can’t see Justin enjoying that much,” Kirra said.
Cammon laughed. “Oh, Justin’s coming around. Once he starts to think magic is useful, he doesn’t mind so much if it intrudes on him.”
“Come on,” Donnal said. “Tell me something without words.”
They all fell silent and waited expectantly. Kirra could feel Donnal sitting beside her, all muscles relaxed, open and ready for anything that might come his way. Cammon sat across from him, face furrowed in a frown, looking down at his hands. Kirra glanced up to find Tayse, Senneth, Justin, and Romar all watching this little exercise with interest. Romar appeared bewildered, but the other three were intent. They had seen some of Cammon’s magic before.
After about five minutes, Donnal straightened enough to make Kirra pull away. Casually he began to whistle, a soft little tune that Kirra couldn’t identify. The expression on his face was inquiring, as if to say, Have I got it right?
Cammon laughed, half pleased and half rueful. “I wanted you to sing,” he said. “But that’s pretty close.”
Donnal quit whistling and started smiling. “That was a strange feeling,” he said. “I just had this odd thought in my head. ‘Now would be a good time to make music.’ Just wandered in and sat there with all my other less-interesting thoughts. I was pretty sure it wasn’t my own idea.”
“ ‘I lost my love to the southern sea,’ ” Amalie said.
Everyone looked at her, even the four sitting a few feet away. “What?” Kirra said.
“‘I lost my love to the southern sea,’” Amalie repeated. “That’s the song Cammon wanted you to sing.”
“I don’t know any song like that,” Donnal said.
Kirra was struck by the look on Cammon’s face. Astonishment. Spiced with excitement. “I did have a song in mind,” he admitted. “But I don’t know the name of it. It’s just a tune I used to hear when we were crossing the ocean from Arberharst.”
“That’s the first line,” Amalie said. Completely without self-consciousness, she began singing in a soft, sweet voice. “‘I lost my love to the southern sea/One night when the moon sank low/I lost my love and I’ll never be/The man you once used to know.’”
“That’s it,” Cammon said, and now his odd, speckled eyes snapped with eagerness. “That’s the melody.”
“I heard you,” she said. “I heard it in my head.”
Kirra looked at the princess, looked at Cammon, and then turned her head a little so she could see Senneth, whose face was expressionless. But Senneth wasn’t paying attention to Kirra; she was watching Valri.
Whose green eyes were wide in her pale white face and who showed fear in every line of her tightly clenched body.
SUMMER dark came late, and they were all ready to seek their beds. The queen and the princess took shelter in their own carriage, whose axle had been repaired just as true dark fell. Colton’s impromptu carpenters had found no evidence of tampering with the rods or wheels, but they admitted they might not be able to tell now that the frame had splintered. In any case, it was safe for the two women to climb inside, though Amalie had expressed an interest in sleeping on the ground before the campfire. Valri vetoed that without hesitation, and Amalie meekly ducked her head to follow the queen into the coach.
Cammon and Donnal headed to the points Tayse had assigned them, the Riders fanned out around the carriage, and the others arranged themselves as suited them best. Kirra was relieved to see that Romar planned to spend the night alongside the Merrenstow soldiers. She and Senneth and Melly unrolled their blankets around the central fire, though Kirra had a suspicion Senneth might end up lying by Tayse as he guarded the princess’s sleep. She could even argue that she belonged there, close enough to Amalie to leap to action should danger threaten.
Though such an event seemed unlikely. Senneth had warned the whole assembly, then generated a thin, flickering wall of fire that snaked around the entire campsite with red-and-gold protection. Danalustrous colors, Kirra thought. She heard more than one soldier gasp or curse as the flames went up, saw a few of them creep close enough to touch. Yes, it was hot; it scorched unwary fingers. But it would not burn the soil or the grass or the trees nearby, and it would last all night, even while Senneth slept. So operated the magic of the most powerful mystic in Gillengaria.
Melly was sighing as she curled up on her thin blanket, too warm on this summer night to want to cover herself with it. “ ‘Go work in the marlord’s house. You’ll lead a soft life,’ ” she muttered, clearly quoting someone’s advice. “ ‘You’ll dress in fine clothes and wait on the serramarra and never have to eat squirrel stew again.’ ”
“You picked the wrong serramarra to wait on if that’s what you wanted,” Kirra said cheerfully. “Or maybe you picked the right one. You just got unlucky on this particular trip. I’m sure this will never happen again if you stay with—with my sister.”
“And I will stay with her, even if it does,” Melly said with another sigh. “Goodnight, serra.”
“Goodnight.”
But Kirra found she could not get comfortable—and once she was comfortable, she could not fall asleep. Too many nights in plush beds in palatial homes ruined a woman for the simple pleasures of life on the road. She thought about her conversation with Romar. She thought about the expression on Valri’s face when Amalie proved susceptible to magic. She thought about the look of sheer contentment that Senneth wore when she had even five minutes to lean against Tayse and feel his arms secure about her. She thought about this upcoming visit to Nocklyn and what unpleasant experiences might unfold there since, so far, none of their stops on the social circuit had passed without incident.
She spent some time trying to picture Belinda Brendyn, so quiet and unassuming and efficient and dull—but kind and good and pleasant. No doubt in love with her restless and handsome husband. No doubt hoping that she would conceive his child one day soon, attach him to her with the unbreakable bond of shared parenthood, give him the one thing he could not manage on his own. Belinda’s devotion to domesticity—wife, mother, de facto head of household with her husband’s prolonged absences—made Kirra feel even more wild, more reckless. She wanted to change into a lioness, right here on the ground between Melly and Senneth. She wanted to transform herself into a white owl and go screeching into the dark. She wanted to melt into a mouse or a mole and go running into the night.
Instead she turned to her side, flipped to her back, turned to her other side, and gave up. Coming to her feet, she threw her blanket across her arm and set off through the camp. Moving carefully and noiselessly, she picked her way past curled bodies and piles of gear, tiptoed around the looming bulk of the carriages, and aimed for the easternmost corner of the wall of flame. She had almost reached her destination when she saw a shape solidify from the undifferentiated shadows and head in her direction. Her heart gave a sudden bound of fear before she recognized Tayse. He came close enough to whisper.
“Anything wrong?”
She shook her head. “What are you doing up?”
“Just patrolling. Checking on everyone. You?”
He nodded and moved off. She continued another few yards until she came across Donnal stretched out on the ground, head lying on his paws, nose pointed straight toward Senneth’s magical blaze. An extraordinary wolf, one that was not afraid of fire.
Spreading her blanket on the ground, she lay down next to him, close enough to feel the solid heat of his body against her back. It was summer, and the fire warmed everything a few more degrees, and she hadn’t been cold to begin with. But only now did she feel right. Only now was she able to close her eyes and let herself slide into dreaming.
CHAPTER 24
THEY got back on the road somewhat later than they should have the next morning, as everyone was a little stiff from the unconventional night’s sleep. Well, Kirra thought, perhaps the soldiers weren’t, and Donnal was certainly none the worse for wear the next day, but she felt achy, hungry, and crabby. They ate a cold, unappetizing breakfast and set out again on the road for Nocklyn.
“And the worst of it is, I can’t look any better than Casserah would after such a night,” she groused to Senneth. “I know how to keep my hair tidy and my face clean, but Casserah doesn’t have such tricks available to her.”
“And all the extra water’s gone to Amalie and the queen,” Senneth said, amused. “But you don’t look so bad. Braid your hair back and shake out your clothes. We can stop at the inn in Loben and wash up.”
“And get the door to the servants’ carriage repaired,” Kirra added. “The other women are riding in my carriage with Melly. They’re afraid the coach will hit a bump and they’ll fall out.”
“I don’t think the night on the road did us any harm,” Senneth said. “We might be a day late into Nocklyn, but we won’t miss the main event. And frankly, I’m not so sorry to be spared even a single night at yet another of the Twelve Houses. I can’t imagine whatever possessed me to tell Baryn I’d squire his daughter around as she made her debut.”
“Oh, but it’s been so much fun so far,” Kirra said. “You have to wonder how Mayva Nocklyn will be able to top Heffel Coravann.”
Senneth laughed. “I’m hoping she won’t even try.”
It was almost noon before they were close enough to Loben to realize there was trouble, and Cammon was the one to sense it. Donnal, loping along in wolf shape alongside Kirra, showed no alarm, even when Cammon suddenly reined in his horse and dropped back to where Senneth rode beside Kirra. His face was puckered with worry.
“What?” Senneth said instantly. “Is someone coming?”
He shook his head, his expression perplexed. “No, I—It doesn’t seem like we’re in danger. But something’s wrong. In Loben.”
“Should we stop? Should we go another way?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just—something bad lies ahead. Or something bad already happened. In Loben.”
Kirra glanced at Senneth then back at Cammon. “Illness?” she asked.
“Attack?” Senneth guessed. “Massacre?”
“I can’t tell. But people are sad.”
“Let’s go tell Tayse.”
Senneth and Cammon cantered off, past the carriages and units of soldiers, seeking the Rider in the lead. Kirra pulled her horse to a walk, allowed the other soldiers to pass her, and then retraced the back trail till she came across Justin, solitary in the rear. She noticed how straight he sat in the saddle, how closely he listened to the sounds around him. He spotted her immediately and spurred his horse forward.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not sure. Cammon says something happened in Loben. I’m guessing Tayse is going to want you with everybody else.”
He nodded and instantly urged his horse to a run, not even waiting for her to catch up. She rolled her eyes and followed more sedately until she had rejoined the main group. The whole party was still moving forward, but at a slower pace. Senneth, Cammon, and the four Riders were in a line before the lead carriage, conferring. Romar rode beside the first coach, apparently conversing with his niece through the open window. Donnal picked his way through the various riders to trot alongside Kirra again. The expression in his amber eyes was inquiring.
“Don’t know yet,” she said. “But it looks like we’re going on.”
It took an hour of cautious travel before they finally made it to Loben, a small, picturesque market town with a decent array of houses and small shops lining the main road. They were barely past the first tavern on the edge of town when Kirra caught the acrid scent of recent fire, and she lifted her head to try to track the source. But nothing appeared to be burning right now; the only smoke rising above the chimneys was white and lazy, curling up from kitchen cookfires.
They drew some attention as they traveled down the street, but not as much as they had in other small towns they’d passed through. The few people who were out were hurrying along as if determined to finish important errands. Some merely looked down at their feet as if they were too weighed with their own cares to wave to the passing princess or gawk at the sight of so many soldiers. The whole feel of the town made Kirra uneasy, as if she waded through the aftereffects of grief. She wondered how much more sharply Cammon was experiencing the emotions that even she was picking up.
When they reached the juncture where the main road was crossed by a secondary street, they came across the charred ruins of a fairly sizable building. Here the smell of smoke was strong enough to make Kirra gag, and she lifted a handkerchief to her mouth to filter out some of the scent. She couldn’t tell what the structure had been, but all that remained were foundation stones, part of a fence, a green corner of lawn, and blackened timbers. At least twenty people milled around in what used to be a courtyard. A small knot of mourners stood in one corner of the lawn and wept.
For some reason, Kirra felt even more uneasy. Senneth flung up a hand and their whole caravan came to a disorganized halt. Kirra pushed her way past the horsemen ahead of her, trying to get to Senneth. Amalie poked her head out the window and the noon sun turned her hair into a fiery halo.
“Casserah. What’s wrong?” the princess asked as Kirra rode by.
“I don’t know. I’m going to find out.”
Senneth had motioned one of the onlookers over, and he arrived at her side just as Kirra did. His sober eyes took in Casserah’s fine clothes and Tayse’s fine weapons, but Kirra could tell he didn’t really register anything as he stood in the street and stared up at them.
“What building burned here?” Senneth demanded.
“My brother’s inn,” the man replied.
Inn? Kirra’s hands tightened so suddenly on the reins that her horse whickered and backed away. She nudged it forward again, listening.
“What happened? Did a fire start in the kitchen?”
The man shrugged hopelessly. “I don’t know. It was the middle of the night. Both the cooks were asleep. Maybe the fire started in the kitchen. Maybe it started in the parlor or one of the upstairs bedrooms. By the time the alarm was raised, it seemed like the building was on fire in three or four places. Even the roof was burning. We called out the bucket brigade, but there was no use. It had spread too far. The whole building was lost.”
“And the people inside?”
Now his face showed real pain. “Most of them dead,” he whispered. “My brother and his wife and his two girls. Dead. We think there were five guests staying on the upper floors, but we cannot find all the bodies. One of the cooks survived, and the downstairs maid, but they are both so badly burned we do not know if they will live till nightfall. It’s so terrible—so terrible—” His voice shook and he had to stop to try to compose himself.
Senneth waited a moment then spoke again. “And this happened last night?” He nodded and she continued, “I am sorry for your loss.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he said, clearly no longer talking to Senneth, nor to anyone but himself.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. We spent every day together. I worked beside him at the inn. How am I going to feed my own wife and my own daughter? How am I going to get by without my brother?”
A woman came up and put her arms around him. She was crying, too, her face red with tears, but she offered him what comfort she had left. Kirra felt her stomach harden with sympathetic despair. She could not imagine how she would feel if this had been Danan Hall and Casserah’s body lay inside.
Light flickered beside her and she glanced down to see Amalie out of the coach. The princess’s hands were extended; her own face was a study in woe. “I am so sad for you,” she said in her soft voice. “What a dreadful day.”
The man continued sobbing in his wife’s arms, but the woman turned to look at Amalie, and her eyes widened. She could not curtsey while she held her husband, but she bowed her head and dropped her eyes. “Majesty,” she whispered.
