by Sharon Shinn
Senneth shook her head. “The king mentioned something of the sort to me, but only in passing,” she said quietly. “It was not his main concern.”
Kirra was stalking back and forth across the luxurious carpets. “Well, anything that creates such a disturbance in the kingdom should be his concern!” she said. “If she has influenced the southern nobles to such an extent—what other kind of suggestions might she whisper in their ears?”
“Exactly right,” Senneth said. “And Coralinda Gisseltess is a very persuasive woman.”
Kirra came to an abrupt halt and gazed at Senneth. Tayse was interested to see that, as soon as Martin Helven had stepped out of the room, Senneth’s face had resumed its normal contours, its usual mix of wariness and intelligence. Even her hair was its usual pale aureole.
“What do you know about her?” Kirra said more quietly. “I was a child when she joined the Daughters, and I don’t remember anyone talking about her much.”
“It was something of a scandal at the time,” Senneth said. “Since you’ve been old enough to pay any attention, people have started to worship the Pale Mother again, but I remember a day when no one gave much service to any of the gods. There’s a shrine in Ghosenhall that honors the whole pantheon—the Bright Mother, the Pale Mother, the Green Keeper, the Dark Watcher—there are a dozen, if I remember correctly, but even I don’t know all their names. All the gods had fallen out of favor when I was a little girl.”
There was a sound, and Tayse’s knife was instantly in his hand, but it was only the door opening from the connecting room. “What happened?” Justin asked. “Did he say anything interesting?”
Kirra was looking at Donnal, who walked in behind Justin. Cammon followed last. “Mystics are being murdered throughout the southern regions,” Kirra said. “He thinks some of it is the work of Coralinda Gisseltess, who joined the order of the Pale Mother some twenty years ago, and now is urging nobles to cast out or destroy anyone with magical power.”
Donnal’s face only grew darker and more solemn at the news. Cammon looked frightened, and Justin looked unimpressed. “I told you,” Justin said. “People don’t like mystics.”
“That doesn’t mean they go around butchering them in their own houses,” Donnal said.
“No,” Justin said in a begrudging voice. “No—and a systematic campaign to eliminate them—” He looked over at Tayse. “What does it mean for us?”
“We were just discussing that,” Tayse replied. “Senneth was giving us a lesson in religious history.”
Justin looked disbelieving. Kirra sank slowly back onto her divan. “Sit down, all of you,” she said. “There’s plenty of food left. Let’s eat, and figure out if—as Justin says—this has anything to do with us and our mission.”
In a few minutes they were all eating and relaxing, even Tayse leaving his post by the door once he was sure it was locked. “Anyway,” Senneth resumed. “About fifteen or twenty years ago—just as Coralinda joined the order—the Daughters of the Pale Mother began to gain some favor again. You would see people wearing moonstone neck-laces or setting up a small shrine somewhere on their property. In particular, travelers from the south would carry amulets and inquire about places of worship when they were in unfamiliar cities. People who dislike mystics were particularly drawn to their sect—because, of course, mystics can’t abide the touch of moonstones. Some people started to say that the Pale Mother was returning to Gillengaria to take back her people, who had been corrupted by magic.” Senneth shrugged. “You can see where two righteous and pitiless philosophies were starting to intersect. But I did not realize the sentiment had grown so strong.”
Tayse chewed and swallowed an entire miniature apple, seeds and all. It was the best piece of fruit he’d ever tasted in his life. “Well, if mystics are being murdered in this part of the country, and we’re traveling with mystics, what does that do to our chances of carrying out the king’s commission?”
Senneth smiled at him. “But we’re protected by two King’s Riders,” she said almost playfully. “Who would dare to do us harm?”
“That’s true,” Justin said in a judicious voice.
“Anyway, that may end up being what our mission is about,” Senneth said. “Discovering the extent to which the Daughters are influencing the malcontents in the southern Houses.”
“Besides, we don’t look like mystics, do we?” Kirra demanded. “I mean, if you were to come upon us on the road, even if you were hunting out magic, you wouldn’t look at the four of us who are mystics and instantly be suspicious, would you?”
“That depends,” Tayse drawled. “On whether this one was turning himself into a wolf at that very moment and you were fancying yourself up in a ball gown made out of leather trousers—”
Most of the others were laughing. Cammon was not. “I’m the strange one,” he said quietly. “People look at me—and they know. Kardon knew as soon as he had me indentured. Senneth, you knew the minute you saw me walking behind the tavern.”
“Yes, but I’m looking for magic,” she said. “I think the three of us are far more spectacular than you are, and we’ve been able to disguise ourselves when we wanted to. I think you can manage the same trick.”
“Very well,” Tayse said. “Then we press on? To Rappengrass and even Gisseltess?”
Senneth was watching him from across the room. He couldn’t tell if she was smiling or not, but there was certainly a challenge on her face. “Unless you’re afraid to travel with us,” she said.
He touched his right hand to his left shoulder, the place where the royal lion would be embroidered if he was wearing his Rider livery. “My liege sends me to serve you, and serve you I will,” he said. “I am not afraid of a convent of women or the message of hatred they spread.”
“I am, and you should be,” she said quietly. “But we will go forward nonetheless.”
CHAPTER 6
THEY left the next morning, bending their route to the south-west so they could swing through Fortunalt and see how the situation stood there. “It’s generally been a self-contained and rational House—no pretensions to the throne—but these days I am not so sure of anyone,” Senneth said. It was her mission to command, so they rode where she directed.
The weather was colder than Tayse remembered it being when they’d arrived in Helvenhall. But that, he knew, was an illusion fostered by two days of soft living. His father had sometimes gone weeks at a time without sleeping in a bed or even inside a shelter, particularly before riding out on some demanding mission. He said he didn’t want to be distracted by discomforts; he wanted to be inured to them before he took his first step on the road.
They didn’t even ride as far as they could have that first day, electing to make camp while it was still full daylight and they could see to gather fuel and make dinner. Senneth said, “I’m going to look for water,” and slipped away once the fire was lit. Tayse watched her go, wondering. He heard laughter and then arguing in the camp, and turned to see Justin pulling out the practice blades.
“Fine,” Justin said, flipping one to Donnal. “Let me show you, then.”
“Don’t forget to keep an eye out for trouble while you’re playing games,” Tayse said.
“I’ll watch,” Cammon replied. “I’ll know if someone’s approaching camp.”
Tayse grunted—because that was irritating but true—and turned away without another word. He followed the path Senneth had taken away from the road, over a hill and down through a scrawny glade of stripped trees. She’d made no particular effort to hide her passage, and so it was easy to find her, a few minutes later, sitting at the edge of an ice-encrusted brook and gazing down at her muddy boots.
“Have you come hunting mystics?” she asked without turning to look at him.
“Not this trip out,” he said. He made his way closer, then dropped down to the ground a few feet away from her.
She glanced over at him. “You would, though,” she said softly. “If the king told you to.”
“I do whatever the king tells me,” he said.
“Loyalty like that is very frightening to me,” she said. “What if what the king tells you is wrong?”
“And what frightens me is someone who is entirely—unaligned,” he said. “Answering only to her own voice. How can anyone be sure that voice can be trusted?”
She watched him a moment, her gray eyes giving nothing away. “It’s only me you really dislike,” she said. “So it can’t just be that you don’t trust mystics. You don’t seem to mind Cammon and Donnal at all, and as for Kirra—” She shrugged. “Well, all men like Kirra.”
He gave her just the edge of a smile. “I understand them and where their allegiances lie,” he said. “Not Cammon, of course—he’s too new to have any allegiances—but he’s like some raw recruit brought into the king’s guard for training. With the right guidance and the right friends, he’ll be thoughtful and strong and maybe even talented. Can’t tell yet how good the basic material is—but it’s uncorrupted.”
“And the others?”
“Well, Kirra would say she’s loyal to you, but really her heart lies with Danalustrous. As long as your course doesn’t jeopardize her father’s realm, she’ll follow you.”
“Kirra has a bit more independence than you think,” Senneth said. “And she has questioned her father more than once.”
“My advice would still be not to put it to the test,” he said.
“And the other men?”
“Oh, Justin is a Rider, heart and soul. He knows this is your expedition, but if you gave him an order and I countermanded it, he would do what I told him to. No question. Donnal’s just the same as Justin, but his loyalty is to Danalustrous. He wouldn’t obey you, either, if Kirra told him not to.”
“I’m not accustomed to giving orders and demanding obedience, ” she said, her voice exasperated. “You make it sound like I’m running a battlefield.”
He shrugged. “That’s what any kind of mission could turn out to be. If we’re set on by Gisseltess guards who somehow know you’re mystics, we’ll have a fight on our hands. And any time you’re in combat, you want to be sure your unit is all pulling together, no loyalties divided.”
“If we’re under attack, I would hope you and Justin would be fighting for us,” she exclaimed.
Again, a tiny smile warmed his mouth. “Depends on who’s attacking.”
She shook her head and looked down at her feet again. The way her hair was cut, so short around her head, it was easy to see every expression on her face.
“You look tired,” he said abruptly. “Tough to go back on the road after two days off it.”
“I am tired,” she said slowly, “but that’s not it. It’s not the day behind me. It’s—” She paused, shook her head again. “It’s what lies ahead of me. It’s going to be even harder than I thought.”
He was silent a moment, but she did not explain. “You see,” he said, “it is things like that that make me distrust you. What do you see—what are you planning—that is going to take such energy?”
She sat very still but turned her head just a little, just enough to look at him out of the corner of her eye. “I can’t believe I am the only one who sees it,” she said.
There was a rustling in the dry grass behind them. Senneth didn’t bother to investigate, but Tayse turned around to see who was approaching. Justin, looking defiant.
“They need you back at camp,” he said. Tayse rose to his feet, but Justin shook his head. “Not you—her.”
“What happened?” Tayse asked, since Senneth didn’t.
“Accident when we were fighting. My fault, but I thought— Donnal had done reasonably well, and I tried something and he couldn’t parry. It’s pretty deep,” he added. “Right shoulder.”
Tayse glanced at Senneth, but even this news didn’t bring her scrambling to her feet. “What about Kirra? I thought she was supposed to be some sort of gifted healer.”
“She says Senneth is better at this kind of wound than she is,” Justin replied. There was a sort of vocalized shrug in his voice. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anyone healed by magic, so I guess I can’t set myself up to judge anyone’s abilities.”
Senneth finally spoke, still without turning around. “Justin,” she said. “If I told you to do one thing and Tayse told you to do another, whose orders would you follow?”
“Tayse’s,” he said.
“Even though the king has named me head of this expedition? Even though, as King’s Rider, you are bound to do what the king wants you to do?”
“The king wants me to be loyal to my fellow Riders,” he said.
Now she looked at him over her shoulder. “And if Tayse woke you up in the middle of the night and told you to kill me in the morning, would you do it?”
He nodded. “You—any of them. But Donnal at least will be dead by morning if you or Kirra or somebody doesn’t tend him.” And with that supremely indifferent remark, he turned around and began kicking his way back through piles of brown leaves.
Senneth dropped her head to her updrawn knees. “I feel so old,” she said.
Tayse was laughing. “He’s even younger than he looks,” he said. “But I think you’re wanted back at camp.”
He stepped forward to help her stand, but she was on her feet with one lithe movement that belied her earlier exhaustion. He wondered for a moment if she just didn’t want him to touch her hand. Then he followed her back to camp. Only when they arrived there did he realize that neither of them had bothered to fetch water.
Donnal was stretched on a blanket before the fire. Dusk was gathering its full force by now, so the pallor of his face might be explained by the failing light—but probably not. Kirra or someone had cut open his shirt over his right shoulder and laid bare a long, deep wound.
Kirra looked up in relief when Senneth materialized before the fire. “I’ve done what I can but I think you—” she said, and paused. Senneth nodded and knelt down beside the hurt man.
“Donnal,” she said, her voice low but sharp. “Can you hear me? Are you able to talk?”
“Yes,” he whispered. “But I’m—it hurts—I don’t know if I can—”
“All right. Don’t bother speaking. I just wanted to let you know. The touch of my hand is going to burn. You’re going to need to lie very still. It will be bad for a few moments, but then it will be much better. Do you understand me? Can you lie quiet?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
Tayse gestured to Justin, and the two of them dropped to the ground on either side of the hurt man. “We’ll hold him, just in case,” Tayse said.
She nodded, not looking at him. When they had gripped Donnal tightly to the ground, she extended her right hand so it hovered only an inch or so above his flesh. Tayse watched her face. It was as guarded as ever, but more so—as if she had gone even deeper within herself to summon some special strength or knowledge. A moment she hesitated, and then she laid her palm along Donnal’s bloody wound.
Donnal grunted with pain and shuddered against their hold, as if straining both not to scream and not to struggle. Tayse’s gaze dropped to Senneth’s hand, but there was nothing to see, no strange glow emanating between her fingers, nothing but skin against skin, with a layer of blood between. He watched her face again, drawn in concentration. The firelight flickered over her cheeks and danced in the white streaks of her hair. Tayse was seized by the odd belief that if he touched her, she would feel like the fire itself.
Donnal was breathing hard, his muscles still bunched against their hold, but his dark eyes were open and fixed on Senneth’s face. She didn’t watch him, she didn’t appear to be looking anywhere, not at her hand, not at the fire, not out into the darkness. Inward, perhaps, with her eyes wide open. They all held their poses for five minutes, or ten—Tayse lost track—and then suddenly Senneth caught her breath and lifted her hand. She sat back on her heels and focused on Donnal.
Who had gone limp and boneless beneath the Riders�
�� hands. Tayse glanced down at him, to find his face loose with relief. The wound still looked ugly and raw, but the pain, at least, seemed to have passed.
“Are you done?” Tayse asked Senneth, releasing his hold on the hurt man. She nodded.
“He’ll still need a day or two to fully heal. But he should be well on his way now.”
“What did you do?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking.
She looked at him, nothing to read in her gray eyes. “Hard to explain,” she said. “Think of it as cauterizing every muscle, every vein, and fusing them together with fire.”
Donnal gasped. “That’s what it felt like.”
Tayse nodded, though he didn’t really understand. His attention went to Justin, still kneeling on the other side of Donnal’s body. Tayse said evenly, “That wound wasn’t caused by a practice blade.”
Justin’s expression set. “He didn’t want to use one.”
“Rule of the camp,” Tayse said. “Practice blades—unless you want to fight with me.”
He caught Senneth’s quick, interested look, but he kept his gaze focused on Justin. Just enough threat in his voice, his words, his expression, to make Justin back down.
“I’m sorry,” Justin said, dropping his eyes. “Practice blades next time.”
Tayse stood up, Justin following suit. “And there should be a next time,” Tayse said. “For Donnal, Cammon, Senneth. We appear to be riding into enemy territory. We all need to keep our skills sharp.”
Senneth rose also, making room for Kirra, who came over with lotions and cloths to bind the hurt man’s wounds. “Though you will find, if we are ever attacked, that those of us with some magical ability can fight in our own ways,” Senneth said with a touch of humor.
Tayse gave her an ironic nod. “I would be interested to see those skills deployed,” he said. “It is almost enough to make me hope for combat.”
By now it was dark, cold, and getting late. He went back to the little brook to fetch water while the others put a meal together. They ate in relative silence—Justin brooding, Donnal hurting, Kirra watching Donnal, Tayse watching Senneth, Senneth lost in her own thoughts, and Cammon sensitive enough to the moods of the others to keep entirely still. It was almost a relief when they all sought their beds. Tayse listened for a moment to the sounds of breathing around him, and then allowed himself to fall immediately asleep.
