Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses)

by Sharon Shinn

  He took her hands in both of his, holding them rather tightly. “The royal consort will be arriving here sometime in the next week,” he said. “Accompanied by a cohort of Riders.”

  She jerked back, feeling a hot spike of inchoate emotions—rage, fear, panic, resentment, longing, loss. It took only one fierce twist for her to free her hands, but he instantly caught hold of her again and this time she let him keep his grip. She was surprised to find that she was shivering. Less surprised to find her stomach a hard and bitter knot. She didn’t meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to read on her face.

  “Why is he coming here?” she asked at last.

  “He has been touring the southern Houses. He will be leaving Rappengrass soon. But, Wen, I didn’t mean to be concealing this from you. I have known for some time that Cammon was on his way, but it is only recently that I realized what such a visit might mean to you.”

  She shook her head as if to ask for silence, and he immediately stopped talking. It took her a moment to achieve calm, but she was determined to rein in her galloping heartbeat. If Cammon was coming to Forten City, he would be attended by a half dozen Riders at least. Some might be new recruits, but there was no chance he would have left the palace grounds without some of the most seasoned Riders at his back. Tayse, for a dead certainty. Justin, just as likely.

  She could not face either of them. She could not face Janni or Hammond. Too many questions, not enough explanations, not enough peace in her heart. She would leave in the morning, she would slip outside the hedge this very night, pack her bags in stealth the minute she made it back to the barracks. Serephette would probably be glad to see her go, and Karryn would soon enough overcome her disappointment. . . .

  But someone wanted Karryn dead.

  Whoever had tried to kill her once would undoubtedly try again. The guards Wen had assembled were good, but were they good enough?

  What if Wen left? What if another assault was made, and this one was successful? What if Karryn was murdered? Would that not be as unforgivable as allowing Baryn to die practically at her feet?

  But I cannot stay here forever, Wen thought. Her fingers spasmed within Jasper’s grasp, but he did not release her and she did not try to pull away. Even if I stay until this present danger is past, some new threat will arise. A marlady is never completely safe.

  But if I wait until this crisis is resolved, I can ride away with a clear conscience, knowing that I have discharged my duty during my prescribed time.

  But this crisis is very far from over.

  I cannot leave her. I cannot leave Jasper. Not now. I cannot ride away tonight.

  She took a deep breath and finally looked up at him. His face was creased with concern; his gray eyes were narrowed with a combination of hope and worry. “I can’t be at Fortune while Cammon is here,” she said flatly.

  He nodded. “I know that. But—”

  “But I am not ready to leave for good,” she added. “I will stay on the grounds until just before he arrives. And I will take lodgings in the city while he and his entourage are here. If anyone needs me, I’ll be easy to find. And I’ll return when Cammon is gone. I don’t think you can ask more of me than that.”

  He looked inexpressibly relieved. “No, indeed, that is quite generous,” he said. “Now if you will only forgive me for concealing information from you, your generosity will be complete.”

  “I will think that over,” she said darkly, and he sighed.

  “Could you think it over from here?” he suggested, tugging her in his direction.

  She snapped her wrists and broke his hold. “I have to check in at the barracks,” she said. “They’ll be wondering already where I am. But I’ll be back tomorrow night with a better story in place to explain my absence.”

  “Then, Willawendiss, I bid you goodnight.”

  Once she was dressed, he escorted her to the door, a silly but charming formality, and kissed her good-bye before she slipped out into the hall. She made her way easily through the unlit corridors, across the dark length of the outer lawn, pausing twice to speak to the soldiers on patrol. The high moon was almost completely obscured by clouds, but Wen didn’t need its light to see. The whole world seemed to bloom with a buried incandescence, lighting every banister, every doorway, every pathway, every tree. Or maybe she was the object alight with an internal fire; maybe she was the one whose blaze threw every detail of the landscape into shocked and exquisite relief.

  THE following week was strange, both exhilarating and harrowing, as Wen balanced her delight in Jasper’s attentions with her dread of Cammon’s arrival and her determination to keep Karryn safe. Her absence had been idly remarked upon that first night, and she made the offhand comment that she was going to station herself in the house for a couple of hours every night just as an added measure of protection. Everyone seemed to accept that, for she had proved herself fanatical about security in the past. Well, Moss did send her a speculative look before she and Davey set out to fetch Garth, and Wen was pretty sure Orson also doubted her explanation, but no one asked her any questions. Neither Moss nor Orson wanted Wen to start making inquiries into their lives. True privacy was too hard to come by in a soldier’s life, so one of the first rules of survival was to respect your fellows’ secrets.

  In any case, there were professional reasons to meet with Jasper Paladar these next few days as they tried to deduce who had attacked Karryn on the road. A note from Zellin Banlish arrived the morning after Wen’s second night with Jasper, and he showed it to her that evening.

  Paladar,

  I was sorry to hear the shocking news about serra Karryn’s encounter with brigands. Naturally one of your first suspects was my son, but I cannot believe he had the resources for such an attack, which I understand required a considerable outlay of money. I have cut off all his funds and make him apply to me even for such necessities as clothing and horseflesh. If you do not believe me, I will come to your house and speak my piece before that mystic boy of yours.

  Banlish

  “Not definitive,” Jasper said after Wen had read it. “But it certainly makes Tover’s involvement seem even less likely.”

  “I agree,” she said. “Was Serephette able to supply the name of the next in line?”

  “Instantly,” he said, “but I remain even more puzzled than before. It would be a man named Maller who lives with his wife and adolescent sons on some remote corner of Fortunalt lands. I’ve made a few discreet inquiries, and I can’t find evidence that any of them have set foot in Forten City for the last twenty years. Certainly they don’t seem to be putting much energy into checking out their inheritance.”

  “I suppose they could have spies in Forten City, and a trusted agent who would hire mercenaries for them,” Wen said doubtfully.

  “Possible,” Jasper said. “But at the moment, they seem unlikely suspects.”

  She stared at him. “Then who?”

  He shook his head. “Perhaps the consort will have an idea. His powers of discernment are remarkable. We shall ask him when he arrives.”

  As always, Wen felt a thrill of terror at the thought that Riders would be momentarily at the gate. “And he will be arriving exactly when?”

  Jasper shook his head. “Apparently he is on the way, but traveling slowly, according to the messages I am getting from his party.”

  “Make sure you give me plenty of warning before he appears,” she said in a threatening way.

  “I promise, Willawendiss, I promise.”

  But, as it happened, she learned of Cammon’s approach from an entirely unexpected source.

  Three days later, she was overseeing the morning workouts in the training yard, and she had pitted Karryn against Davey. He and Moss had returned the day before, a much-improved Garth between them. Moss was still supervising Garth’s convalescence, but Davey had instantly returned to the training yard, and Wen wanted him to show Karryn some of the moves that he did particularly well. But Karryn was clumsy, or not
paying attention, or worried about getting her hair dirty, and she kept botching the upthrust.

  Impatiently, Wen grabbed the practice sword from Davey and shooed him away. “No, like this,” she said, demonstrating again. “You’re not turning your wrist when you need to.”

  Karryn tried again and failed again, and Wen eventually gave up. “I think we’re just wasting our time today,” Wen said, trying not to sound disapproving.

  “I’m sorry, Willa, but I’m just so excited,” Karryn said. Indeed, her brown eyes were bright and her face was flushed with eagerness. “The royal consort is only a day’s ride from Forten City! It would be a half day, except he is moving so slowly,” she added.

  Wen felt her stomach tighten, but she spoke calmly. “Indeed? Did your uncle receive a message this morning?”

  Karryn looked puzzled. “No, I—” Her forehead creased even more, as if she was trying to remember how she had obtained this particular piece of knowledge. “It’s just that I—”

  Wen laughed at her. “Did you dream it, perhaps? I’ve had a dream or two that seemed as real as life.”

  Karryn shook her head with emphasis. “No, I can tell you exactly where he is. About four hours south of us, near the little town called Pettis . . .” Her voice trailed off and her eyes got even bigger. “Willa. I don’t know how I know that.”

  Wen beamed at her. “It’s your marlady blood telling you,” she said. “I’ve heard stories that say Malcolm Danalustrous is aware of it the minute anyone crosses the border onto his lands. It looks like you’re developing the same skill.”

  Karryn looked as though her head had been knocked askew. “Could my father do that?”

  “Who knows? Maybe it’s only a skill that good marlords and marladies possess.”

  Karryn straightened. “I must go tell Jasper!”

  “About Cammon’s arrival?”

  Karryn was already climbing over the fence. “About my ability to sense it! Won’t he be proud of me!” And with a flip of her brown hair, she was gone.

  And time for me to go, too, Wen thought. If he’s only four or five hours away, Cammon might actually be here by nightfall. I cannot be here when Riders sweep through that gate.

  An hour later she was packed and saddling her horse, reciting a detailed list of instructions to Orson. He must send someone every day to report to her at the inn where she would be staying. He must increase the patrols at the gate and on the grounds while Cammon was in residence, although the Riders would surely add their own formidable skills to the task of protecting royalty. He must make the Riders free of any equipment they wanted to borrow, any space they wanted to utilize, for their own practices.

  “And if anybody asks after you?” Orson said. “I should tell them I don’t know where you’re staying in the city?”

  She glared at him, but he gazed right back, his expression shrewd. “Why would Riders be asking after me?” she demanded.

  “Why would you be running from Riders?” he shot back.

  She swung into the saddle, tense and irritable. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

  He shrugged and watched her go. “See you in a few days,” he said.

  She nodded and rode out without bothering to speak another word. Most of her was weak with relief that she was escaping before anyone from Ghosenhall could see her. Would they shout out their delight when they recognized her face? Pull her into their rough embraces, demand to know why she had run, beg her to return? Would they turn their backs on her, a flawed and useless comrade, one who had failed them in the most disastrous fashion possible? Would they love her or shun her? She didn’t know. She couldn’t bear to stay and learn.

  But a tiny, sad, shivering corner of her heart longed to stay and find out.

  Chapter 31

  “I NEVER THOUGHT I’D BE GLAD TO BE ARRIVING IN FORTEN City,” Senneth remarked as their cavalcade crossed into the city limits late on a sunny afternoon. To hasten their progress on this leg of the journey, she had finally demanded that Cammon climb into the coach. She herself had locked the door, and now she sat with her back against it so that he couldn’t unexpectedly exit and begin talking to the populace. “I like it only slightly better than I like Gissel Plain.”

  Cammon was peering over her head to watch the crowded streets roll past. “I don’t remember it being such a terrible place when we were here three years ago,” he said.

  She made dismissive sound. “You were just getting used to us then. You were still this wretched vagabond we’d picked up on the side of the road. You were so happy to have friends that you didn’t care what we did or where we landed.”

  He grinned. “I wasn’t wretched. I wasn’t very well-groomed, maybe.”

  Her only answer was a disbelieving snort. He was hardly well-groomed now, though at least he owned clothes that fit and he would sit still for a haircut now and then.

  He looked out the window again. “Anyway, you only hated it because of Rayson Fortunalt. Now that he’s gone, maybe you’ll find it a charming place.”

  “Maybe,” she said doubtfully. “But I can tell you right now that I’m getting eager to go home, so the shorter our visit, the happier I’ll be.”

  Kirra and Donnal had left them already, Kirra saying frankly that the pace was driving her to madness. So far, Justin seemed content enough to dawdle on the road, but Senneth knew his impatience would begin to show once it was time for Ellynor to quit her sojourn in the Lirrens and head back to Ghosenhall. Tayse seemed to be the only one of them who didn’t mind how long the journey lasted or where it took them. He was guarding royalty; thus, he must go wherever royalty went. Most of Tayse’s choices were drastically simple.

  “I think Fortunalt may end up being the most interesting part of our visit yet,” Cammon said.

  Senneth doubted that, but a few minutes later she had to admit their reception at Fortune was very hospitable. With Kirra gone, she was forced to play the role of grand serramarra, companion to royalty, so she tried for a regal graciousness as she introduced herself to the occupants of the house. It only took a couple minutes to write off the marlady as a borderline lunatic, but Karryn Fortunalt and her guardian went out of their way to be likable.

  “We’re so pleased to have the honor of entertaining the royal consort of Gillengaria and his companions,” the young serramarra said in such a stilted fashion it was obvious she’d been rehearsing the phrase for days. But she smiled so brightly that the words rang true nonetheless. Karryn looked too much like her father to be pretty, and was too young and coltish to be elegant, but she was trying hard to be cordial, and Senneth allowed herself to be cautiously won over.

  Cammon knew no such caution. He was responding to the serramarra’s smile with an enthusiastic one of his own. “And I can’t tell you how pleased I am to be here,” he said.

  “I hope your journey has been very pleasant,” Karryn added.

  “Trouble free, thank you,” Senneth said.

  “Unlike our own last trip through Fortunalt lands,” Serephette said in a dark voice. “We were set upon by bandits while on a lonely stretch of road! Fortunately, no one was hurt.”

  “The coachman died and two of the guards were hurt,” Karryn said swiftly, “though not severely.”

  Oh, this was surely news the attractive Jasper Paladar did not want shared with Cammon the minute he stepped through the door! Senneth caught the quick frown he sent Serephette’s way, but the damage was already done.

  “Yes,” Jasper said smoothly, “I believe we are not alone among the southern Houses in seeing an increase of outlawry. I am glad to learn you made your trip unmolested.”