by Sharon Shinn
“Your power,” Albert repeated stupidly. He still had not comprehended what had happened.
Degarde had. “You’re a mystic,” he said, his voice flat and accusatory.
Senneth nodded. “I am.”
Albert actually stepped back at that. “A mystic? A—but that is—you can practice magic? You can cast spells?”
“I can call fire,” Senneth said. “And I can put it out. That is all my power encompasses.”
That was a lie, actually. A mastery of fire was her ultimate accomplishment, but Senneth had a little skill at some of the other magical talents as well. She could alter her appearance slightly, like a shape-shifter; her hands possessed an ability to heal, if the wound or illness was obvious and simple. It didn’t seem necessary to mention these details.
Albert swung his big head to look at Evelyn. “You introduced us to a mystic?” he asked.
Evelyn put her hands on her hips. “Senneth is my kinswoman, and a kinder, braver, more generous person you are unlikely to find!” she said fiercely. “Yes, she’s a mystic, but she has been persecuted for no reason! She has just saved that girl’s life! If you are so shallow and narrow-minded that you cannot tolerate another human being just because she is different from you, just because you don’t understand her, even when she has never done you any harm, and indeed she has done you great good, then—then—”
It was clear that in the heat of her defense, Evelyn had lost the thread of her argument. Senneth patted Evelyn’s shoulder. “Peace,” she said. “I am not hurt or offended. Do not lose your friendships over me. I’ll leave the house. I’m happy to go.”
“You will not go!” Evelyn said. “They will go if they cannot accept you!”
“It is just that no mystic has ever come my way before,” Albert said awkwardly. “Everyone says such dreadful things about them—but you are far from dreadful—that is—”
“I have been taught to despise them,” Degarde said quietly. “And yet, you are as far from despicable as it is possible to be.”
Senneth almost laughed. “Well. I suppose that is a compliment. But I do not want to make you uncomfortable. We can all part now, quite civilly. I will ask no more of you than that you not be so quick to judge the next mystic you meet.”
She wanted to step away from the table, out of the room, out of the tense situation, but Degarde deliberately put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay,” he said. “You have not given us an opportunity to recover from our shock. You have not given us a chance to express our gratitude. A mystic has saved my niece’s life. Therefore, I must feel admiration for all mystics.”
Betony and Julia were now crossing the room, Julia holding a sniffling Halie in her arms. The little girl was wrapped in a soft white blanket, since her ruined clothes had been stripped away, but Senneth didn’t see any gauze dressings peeking out. Had she truly caught the fire before it had time to scar the child’s delicate flesh? That fact alone would sweeten any bitterness this encounter would bring.
“How is she?” Senneth asked.
“Unharmed,” Julia said, her voice low and her face haunted. She was staring at Senneth much as Degarde had done previously. “You saved her. Before the flames could touch her.”
“I’m a mystic,” Senneth said, in case Julia hadn’t been paying attention.
“Thank you,” Julia whispered. Cradling Halie to her chest with one arm, she threw her other arm around Senneth’s neck. The child whimpered faintly between their bodies. “Thank you so much.”
Senneth patted her on the back a couple of times and then pulled away. “I’m glad I was able to work so fast. I’m glad she’s whole. I hope you are able to keep her out of trouble once you’re all back home.”
“But you’re coming with us when we go,” Betony said.
“That no longer seems appropriate,” Senneth replied. “A mystic is not so welcome as an ordinary woman.”
“She is twice as welcome,” Degarde said fiercely.
“Yes, yes, please come with us,” Julia begged. “I will feel much safer with you nearby. Not that I think Halie will stumble into another fire, but—”
“You will not want to have to explain me to your friends,” Senneth said.
Albert seemed to make up his mind. Unlike Betony, who had not been surprised to begin with, and unlike the siblings, who had been converted by gratitude, Albert had seemed to have the hardest time accepting Senneth’s change in status. “We will tell them nothing. You are our friend and we have invited you to visit us,” he said.
“Excellent. Then that’s settled,” Betony said, before Senneth could find another reason to protest. “We will be so happy to have you.”
“Yes,” Degarde said, giving Senneth a meaningful look. “We will be delighted.”
One good thing about establishing yourself as an eccentric, Senneth thought cynically a couple hours later, was that everyone was willing to allow you some latitude in your behavior. So after the exciting lunch, when Julia and Halie withdrew to recover and the men settled down for a game of cruxanno, Senneth excused herself to check on the project she had considered finished three days ago. With the vague comment that she wanted to examine the destroyed cottages, she paused to resume her ordinary attire and then slipped from the house. She strolled down the main street of the village to find the ruins of the cottages still under a coverlet of snow, though the road itself was cleared, if a bit muddy. She paused a moment beside one of the tumbled structures, imagining that she still could catch a whiff of acrid smoke coiled under the fresh, clean layer of snow.
A few of the villagers who passed made a point of nodding or even coming up to thank her for her service. Senneth was feeling rather pleased with herself when a bent old woman waddled up, leading a shaggy pony.
“So I suppose everyone in town is singing your praises, calling you some kind of savior,” the woman spit out, her dark eyes snapping with hostility. “But you’re still a mystic! You still offend the Pale Mother! And the goddess will strike you down, never you doubt it.”
Senneth usually exited such encounters as promptly as possible, making no attempt to defend herself, but today had been filled with enough emotional reverses to make her a little reckless. Anger seeped past her usually hard-held control. “At least my aim in life is to bring goodness to the world,” she replied. “At least I am not screaming invective at complete strangers, or trying to stone them in the street.”
The woman’s face reddened in fury, and she dug for something buried in a deep pocket. “The goddess wants to cleanse the world of heretics like you!” she cried.
“I am not afraid of the Silver Lady,” Senneth said.
Now the woman pulled free a short silver chain hung with a glowing white gem. “But your flesh will still be seared by the touch of the Pale Mother’s moonstone!” she cackled and swung the charm so it landed against Senneth’s bare arm.
Senneth instinctively snatched her hand away, anticipating the burn, but in fact all she felt was a smooth coolness against her skin. “That’s not a moonstone,” she said, peering down at the old hag. “That’s just a piece of glass. Wait—who are you?” Could it be possible—? “Kirra?”
The old woman broke into the most infectious laugh and shook back her thin gray hair. “It’s no fun teasing you because you catch on so quickly,” she complained. “But I shouldn’t have tried the moonstone. I knew it wouldn’t work.”
Senneth was delighted. There was no antidote to stress more powerful than a visit from Kirra Danalustrous, even when she had shape-shifted into an unrecognizable form. “What are you doing here? Were you looking for me? How did you find me?” She glanced around. “Where’s Donnal?”
Kirra lifted a hand to pat the nose of the pony, who shook his head till his harness jingled. “He’s right here, of course. Yes, I’ve been looking for you. I have a message for you from King Baryn. I told him it might be weeks before I could track you down, but then, what luck! I was at Kianlever Court and someone mentioned passing through this
tiny little town, where three houses had been burned to the ground with such precision that not a spark misbehaved. So I knew you had to be somewhere in the vicinity.”
Senneth grinned. “And having quite an interesting time of it, may I say.” She glanced around. “Can we sit and talk for a while? There’s a tavern at the crossroads. Would an old woman like you be willing to share some ale with a condemned sinner like me?”
“Go in and get us a table,” Kirra said. “We’ll join you in five minutes looking more like ourselves.”
Senneth had chosen a table in the back of the dark, cluttered tavern and was already pouring ale from a pitcher when Kirra and Donnal strolled in. Kirra was feeling unusually circumspect, apparently, for she was indeed in her natural state—greatly toned down. A serramarra of House Danalustrous, Kirra had long golden hair and huge blue eyes that turned heads wherever she went, particularly if she was dressed in clothes that played up her charms. But today she wore that marvelous hair tied back from her face and she was dressed in a gray gown so plain it was actually dowdy; the other patrons barely glanced at her. Donnal, as usual, managed to be almost invisible as he followed her. He was slim and short, with dark hair and a dark beard, and a quiet manner that allowed him to deflect almost all attention.
They slipped into the booth across from her and Senneth handed around the rest of the glasses. “So what’s the news from Ghosenhall?” she asked.
“Troubled,” Kirra said, taking a sip. “Mmmm, this is good. Baryn has heard rumors of unrest among the southern Houses. His spies have reported that Gisseltess and Fortunalt seem to be raising and training troops.”
“I was in Rappengrass a few weeks ago,” Senneth said. “Everything was orderly as usual around Rappen Manor, but I thought some of the smaller towns and homesteads seemed uneasy. And things were equally tense in Helven. I arrived in one small town shortly after two mystics had been put to death.”
“I’m afraid that’s a story playing out across the middle and southern regions,” Kirra said. “And Baryn is worried. He wants you to investigate the situation for him.”
Senneth widened her eyes. “Investigate in what manner? What does he think I can discover?”
“I suppose he thinks you can gain access to sitting rooms and drawing rooms of the nobility,” Kirra replied with a grin, “and read for him the mood of the marlords.”
“I think it highly unlikely that any marlord would invite me through his doors to discuss his plans for mutiny,” Senneth retorted.
Donnal grinned. Kirra bubbled with laughter. “Well, he didn’t tell me exactly what he wished you to do,” she answered. “He merely said he wanted to see you in Ghosenhall as soon as I could find you.”
Senneth sighed. “I would love to be able to head for the royal city this very minute, but I have somehow become entangled with Thirteenth House nobles who need me to broker a deal for them with some Lirren traders.”
“No! That is too convoluted to even be plausible. Can’t you get out of it?”
“Believe me, I tried. And this was before they discovered I was a mystic. Now that they’ve learned the truth, they are even more determined to make me their friend, just to prove to themselves how open-minded they are.”
“How did they find out?” Donnal inquired. “Did you set one of them on fire?”
“You know, it’s so rare that I actually do that, and yet that’s always the first question anyone asks me.”
“Because it’s so spectacular,” Kirra said. “I just love seeing a human being blazed away.”
Senneth gave her a warm smile. “I can let you observe the phenomenon from within your own cocoon of flame, if you like.”
“She would just change into a bird and dart away,” Donnal said. “And so would I,” he added when Senneth turned a considering look on him.
“You didn’t answer the question,” Kirra said. “How’d they find out?”
“Actually, I was saving someone from burning. A curious little girl drew too close to the hearth and her dress caught on fire. I was able to put out the flames immediately, of course, but since I was standing across the room at the time—”
“Just as spectacular, but more likely to win you friends,” Kirra decided. “But how do the Lirrenfolk fit in the picture?”
“One of the people at the luncheon owns an estate near the mountains and is trying to strike a deal. I offered a little advice and now have been hailed as an expert on Lirren commerce. Apparently we leave tomorrow for a town called Benneld where my new friend has property, and within the week we will meet with his Lirren contacts again.”
“Well, wrap up this business as quickly as you can,” Kirra advised. “The king is anxious to see you.”
“I am not in the mood to linger,” Senneth assured her. “Will you be in Ghosenhall when I arrive?”
Kirra looked at Donnal for an answer. Senneth didn’t believe they communicated through some kind of wordless speech, but that they knew each other well enough to practically read each others’ minds had always been evident. Despite the fact that Kirra was a serramarra and Donnal was a peasant’s son, they were inseparable companions. Senneth had met them both more than ten years ago when Kirra’s father had hired her to teach his daughter and his daughter’s friend the finer points of controlling their own magic.
In no other context did the word control fit into Kirra’s vocabulary. She was an unchained spirit, even more restless than Senneth, as likely to be roaming the country in the shape of a mountain lion as a woman. Those who loved her were always profoundly grateful to Donnal for loyally following her through whatever hazard or transformation her inclinations took her next.
Kirra turned those blue eyes back to Senneth. “We’ll meet you in Ghosenhall,” she said. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll come with you on this mission for the king.”
“That would be fun,” Senneth said. “Are you expected back in Danalustrous anytime soon?”
Kirra waved a hand. “Oh, a few weeks won’t make any difference to my father.”
“And how is your father? And your sister?” Senneth asked. Talk quickly turned to news about family and friends, though Senneth didn’t speak to her own family and claimed an odd assortment of friends. Still, it was an exceptionally pleasant way to spend an hour, and Senneth was sorry when the afternoon drew to a close.
“We’ll go back to Ghosenhall to tell Baryn we’ve found you,” Kirra said once they were all standing outside the tavern doors. “And if you linger too long in Benneld, we’ll come looking for you there. Otherwise, expect to see us in the royal city in about ten days.”
Kirra hugged her good-bye. Donnal followed suit, and the two of them set off, heading for the edge of town. Senneth was sure they would scarcely wait till they were out of sight before they changed into shapes more suited for rapid travel. She smothered a sigh of envy and retraced her steps to Evelyn’s house.
Three
A day and a half later, a small cavalcade pulled out of Evelyn’s drive and headed east at the first crossroads, toward the smoky Lireth Mountains already visible in the distance. Julia and Betony had made it clear Senneth was welcome to share the carriage with them, but Senneth greatly preferred horseback and the open air.
“But it’s freezing out here!” Julia exclaimed. Fresh snow had fallen overnight and the temperature had plummeted. Even with their heated bricks and layers of blankets, the women and the little girl in the carriage were quickly going to feel the chill.
“I’m never cold,” Senneth said. “In fact, if you get too cold, let me know, and I can warm up the air inside the coach.”
Julia looked doubtful, but Betony said firmly, “What a most excellent skill to have. I’m sure we will be happy to draw upon it before the journey is half over.”
Indeed, even the men, stoic upon their fine horses, were grateful for Senneth’s magic when they rested for a few minutes about two hours into their journey. Senneth created a bubble of warm air all around them as they paused on the side of the road
. It was so effective that Julia took off her topcoat as she ushered Halie into the bushes to take care of some personal business.
“The longer I am with you, the more I am beginning to appreciate magic,” Albert said. “I had no idea mystics could be so useful.”
She made him a little bow. “In me you see an ambassador for all things sorcerous,” she said. “Just think how other kinds of power could enhance your life.”
“I don’t believe I know that much about the kinds of magic that exist,” Albert said slowly.
“Nor do I,” said Degarde, who had drawn close enough to listen. “I didn’t even know there were different kinds.”
So for the next hour of the journey, Senneth described the varieties of magic she had encountered in her travels. “There are plenty of shape-shifters, some with greater ability than others,” she said. “I’ve seen shiftlings who can change so fast they can transmogrify in midair—from a hawk to a butterfly, say. Others take so long to make the metamorphosis that you can actually see them growing feathers on their arms and turning their fingers into claws.”
“I might find that a little disconcerting,” Degarde admitted. “I apologize for my weakness of spirit.”
“It is a little disconcerting,” Senneth told him. “But I have seen it often enough that I am used to it now. Other mystics can move objects through the air—lift them and throw them. Some can make water do their bidding, cause rivers to slow or underground streams to rise to the surface. I’ve met one or two who were so sensitive to moods and emotions that they could practically tell what you were thinking—and they could usually tell if you were speaking the truth.”
“Another handy skill,” Albert said. “Think how valuable such a person would be if you were negotiating with a man you did not trust.”
“But consider what a disadvantage you would be at if you were the one with something to conceal!” Degarde exclaimed.
