by Sharon Shinn
“When they get closer, I will,” he said.
“Justin will suspect something,” Tayse said. “He’ll sneak them in during the middle of the night.”
“Easy enough for Riders to stay up and wait for them,” Senneth said, trying not to laugh. “Riders never need to sleep.”
“Well, we ought to mark the occasion in some fashion.”
“Kirra and Donnal ought to be here,” Senneth said. “We should send them word. Are they still in Danalustrous?”
Cammon nodded. “I’ll let them know,” he said.
“That will be nice,” Senneth said. “The six of us back together again. For a little while, anyway.”
“Seven now,” Cammon said.
“Seven,” Senneth repeated. “I wonder how well I’ll like Ellynor once I get to know her.”
Tayse shrugged. “She makes Justin happy. That’s all I need to know.”
Senneth looked at Cammon with a question on her face. Does she indeed make Justin happy? He grinned and nodded. “Almost as happy as you make Tayse,” he said. That made her laugh and shove him out the door. So, after all, despite the cold, pretty soon he was out on the training field with a weapon in his hand.
Nothing else to do if he was not going to have a chance to see Amalie.
CHAPTER
5
THE princess didn’t need him the following morning, either, but Cammon was not going to make the mistake of seeking out the Riders again. He was still sore from yesterday’s workout. Instead he bundled himself up in a heavy new coat—provided by Milo—and went in search of the raelynx.
The six of them had come across the wild cat a year ago when they were traveling through Gillengaria on a mission for King Baryn. Most raelynxes could only be found across the Lireth Mountains in the Lirrenlands, and they possessed their own kind of feral magic. They could not be caught—they could not be killed—they eluded every hunter’s trap, every householder’s poison. With their red fur, spiky ears, and great tufted toes, they were beautiful and lawless and terrifying.
The folk of the Lirrens had learned to control them, or at least keep the great cats from ravaging their communities. Senneth said it was because the Lirrenfolk were protected by the Dark Watcher, and the night goddess had claimed the raelynx as her own. During the long years when Senneth was estranged from her own family, she had lived among the Lirrenfolk and learned some of their customs, and she too had acquired the trick of controlling a raelynx’s appetite and rage.
Or at least, she had figured out how to keep this particular beast in check, but she admitted it was only because they had found it when it was just a few months old. A full-grown cat would have been more than even Senneth could handle. She had meant to return it to the Lirrens once they were safely done with their travels—and yet their adventures had never delivered them back to the Lireth Mountains. Strangely, once they returned to Ghosenhall, Queen Valri had been quite taken with the notion of keeping a raelynx on the property, and she had begged the king to allow her to keep it.
Madness. Even Cammon knew that. But he loved the raelynx, and he had been secretly glad to learn it would be staying in Ghosenhall, where he could visit it whenever he wished.
It was quite a trek through the palace grounds to the walled garden where the raelynx was kept. Several hundred acres surrounded the palace proper, and they were divided into a broad diversity of terrain with a handful of attractions—wooded areas, streams, gardens, living quarters, stables, gazebos, and follies. The garden holding the wild creature was about as far distant from the palace and the barracks as it could be. It was surrounded by a high stone wall and closed with a wrought-iron gate. Winter-bare trees poked their heads above the fencing; dead vines clung to the stone and mortar. Through the open grillwork of the gate, Cammon could see more of the same inside—brown grasses, nude shrubs, the bent and colorless stalks of tall flowers patiently enduring the indignities of winter.
He stepped close enough to set his hands on the rods and peered inside. It should be easy to spot the cat’s red fur in such a bleak environment, but at first he could see no sign of the raelynx at all. He could sense it, though, a great vortex of curiosity and hunger and violence. And awareness. The big cat knew Cammon was there just as surely as Cammon could tell the raelynx was near.
Suddenly, as if materializing from empty space, the raelynx stood before the gate, watching Cammon with its huge dark eyes. Its tufted tail twitched slowly back and forth; the peaks of fur along its spine stood taut with interest. Some of its readiness to fight faded; in its place came something Cammon could not identify. Recognition, maybe. This is someone I have seen before. He is human but he means me no harm. Nowhere near as clear as that, of course.
“So. You’re starting to know me, are you?” Cammon murmured. He was tempted to thrust his hands through the bars and stroke that watchful face, offer a friendly pat on top of the russet head. He knew better, naturally. This was not an animal that could be tamed. Oh, he had seen Senneth actually put her hand out and caress the bright fur, but only once, and the raelynx had been much younger then. Now, more than a year old and almost up to its full weight and strength, the big cat was too fearsome to tempt. “Are you lonely? Do you miss visiting with your wild friends—having your raelynx neighbors over for tea?”
He couldn’t help but smile at his own nonsense, but the creature seemed to enjoy the sound of his voice. Its mood mellowed even more. It dropped to its haunches and watched Cammon with sleepy eyes. Cammon could pick up no urgent sense of hunger, so he guessed the animal had fed earlier in the day. Raelynxes were notorious for their ravenous appetites. Shortly after this one had been penned up in the garden—which was much too small to accommodate it—the queen had had a run built for it, accessed through the back wall. She also made sure live game was introduced to the garden every few weeks. Now and then, a watcher with a quick eye could catch a flash of red as the raelynx bounded down the run in pursuit of an unlucky rabbit.
“But maybe you’re not a pack animal,” Cammon said. Moving slowly, he dropped to the ground on his side of the gate. The raelynx yawned and stretched out on the other side. “Maybe you roam your territory in utter solitude. Maybe you like Ghosenhall, because there’s not another raelynx for hundreds of miles.”
The big cat snorted and settled its massive head on its enormous paws. Its eyelids drooped, but it didn’t quite allow itself to sleep.
“You seem so reasonable right now,” Cammon continued in a soft voice. “Almost gentle. What would happen if this gate swung open, I wonder? Where would you run first? And would I be able to control you? That’s what I really want to know. Would Senneth? I think I could hold you still long enough for hunters to get in place—but even so, could a hunter really bring you down? What would we do if you ever got free?”
“We would vacate the city and run for our lives,” said a voice behind him.
Cammon nearly yelped as he spun around on his knees to see who had possibly been able to come upon him unaware. The raelynx sensed his mood and came hissing to his feet, but both of them calmed down immediately.
It was Queen Valri. Someone to respect, perhaps—Cammon, at least, scrambled up and attempted to give her a formal bow—but not someone to fear.
“Majesty,” he said, a little breathlessly. “I didn’t hear you coming.”
She seemed amused. “That must be a rare experience for you.”
Her smile invited his own. “Very rare! You can see I don’t know how to behave when I’m surprised.”
“I find it so gratifying that I’m still able to surprise someone that I don’t care how you behave,” she said.
This was, for the dark-humored queen, an almost playful observation. “Well, I’ll try not to be too ridiculous, anyway.”
Once she was close enough to the gate, she bent down and spread her fingers so that her palm lay exposed between two of the rods. Cammon held his breath as the raelynx sniffed at her hand. The big cat felt recognition for this huma
n, too, that was obvious. Recognition and something else—affection? Was that possible?
“He likes you,” Cammon said, speaking in that soft voice again.
Valri nodded, as if that wasn’t an absurd thing to say. “I come here once or twice a week, if I can. To check that he is well. He is so far from home and surrounded by people who distrust him. I feel that the least I can do is make sure he is not utterly alone.”
Well, and wasn’t that an interesting speech? Even someone who couldn’t read emotions would have been able to guess that the queen was describing herself and her own situation. “Someday maybe he’ll have a chance to go back home,” Cammon said.
She nodded again. Her hand was still pressed against the bars, but the raelynx had lost interest and dropped back to the ground. “If he hasn’t been ruined by captivity. If it hasn’t changed the very essence of his nature.”
Cammon was at a loss. Was he supposed to respond to that or pretend she was still talking about the cat? “And do you think that will be case?”
She was silent for a long moment and he figured she wouldn’t answer. Then she turned her head and gave him a sad smile. Her green eyes were bright with some emotion—regret, resignation, uncertainty, he could not tell. “At least I chose to come here,” she said. “This creature did not.”
Neither of them said anything for a long moment, but they watched each other steadily. Most of Cammon’s uneasiness had disappeared. He was used to people telling him their secrets; as long as they meant to do it, he was not afraid of what he might hear. “And why did you?”
She looked back at the raelynx. “The king asked me to. How could I refuse?”
“It does not seem,” he said cautiously, “like a very hard life.”
She shook her head. “It could not possibly be harder.”
He thought that over. He knew so little about Valri—only what Senneth and Kirra had told him, and they were as puzzled by the strange young queen as everyone else was. She and Baryn had married six years ago, shortly after Amalie’s mother died. No one knew what House she was from, or where the king had met her, and, of course, there was a certain amount of scandal over their significant age difference. In the southern Houses, the whispers had started a few years ago: The queen is a mystic. She has bespelled the king. But Baryn showed no hallmarks of a man enchanted, as far as Cammon could tell, and he was pretty sure he’d be able to read the signs. Anyway, Valri seemed to spend far more time with her stepdaughter than she did with her husband….
“Are you protecting Amalie?” he said, before it occurred to him not to voice the speculation. “Is that it?” Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I have no right to ask such questions.”
But she was nodding again, her gaze still fixed before her. “Every day. With all my strength. Keeping Amalie safe.”
“You are a mystic,” he said.
She shrugged. “Some people might say so.”
“What’s your power?” But he had figured that out for himself. “Concealment. You can hide your thoughts—you can hide Amalie’s. That’s why I find both of you impossible to read.”
“I can hide her,” Valri said quite softly. “So no one can find her.”
“But she can’t hide anymore,” Cammon said, his voice just as quiet.
“I know. And I am absolutely terrified.”
She said it with no particular emphasis, but for a moment she let her guard down—just a little—and he could sense a profound and soul-deep fear coiled at her heart. He inhaled sharply. Immediately, the impression was gone.
“But, Majesty, you are not the only one on hand to protect her,” he said. “Fifty Riders guard the gates, and royal soldiers can be found on every street corner of Ghosenhall. If any man gets past the soldiers, Senneth can call down fire and burn him where he stands.”
Valri turned her head again, just enough to give him a fierce look from those remarkable eyes. “You have to be the one to watch out for her,” she said. “You’re the one who can sense danger. You have to make sure no one gets close enough to hurt her.”
Now he knew. Why the queen had confided in him. To make sure he was firmly committed to her cause. “That’s why I’ve been brought to the palace,” he said, his voice gentle. “I will do my job. I will keep her safe. You were with us last summer—you know I can be trusted.”
“Even if war comes,” she said, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. “Even if the king and I are both disposed of, and all the Riders chased off, and Halchon Gisseltess installed on the throne. You must watch over her.”
“Of course I will,” he said, though if all those eventualities occurred, he would most likely be dead as well. Amalie, too. “But once she marries—”
Valri made a small sound and rested her head against the bars of the gate. The raelynx glanced up, decided her nose was too far away to make a leap for, and settled its chin back on its paws. “How will we ever find the right man for her?” she said in something like despair.
Cammon was in agreement with the sentiment. “Perhaps the king shouldn’t be rushing her into a wedding.”
Valri straightened up. “And perhaps a wedding is the very thing that is needed,” she said. “I don’t know. I can’t tell. I just know that Amalie will require a very special bridegroom. And I don’t know if one exists in all of Gillengaria.”
Stranger and stranger. “I suppose you will have to make the search to find out.”
Now she groaned and almost smiled. “I suppose we will. A parade of serramar coming through the palace to woo her! Could anything be more disastrous? There are days, Cammon, when I do not believe I am up to the task before me.”
“Well, on those days maybe you should let other people do some of the work. The Riders. Senneth. Me.”
Now she smiled outright. “You will have your own work cut out for you, just you wait and see. I think there is a young lord coming by tomorrow—or the day after—you will get your chance to eavesdrop on a suitor’s conversation soon enough.”
The tone of her voice made him think she was about to bring the dialogue to a close. He would not put it past her to pretend it had never happened. “I don’t entirely understand what you’re afraid of—or what you’re protecting Amalie from—or what you want from me,” he said bluntly. “But anytime you want my help, just say so. I will do whatever I can.” That sounded too casual, almost lighthearted. He tried for more formality. “I am yours to command, Majesty.”
She turned away from the gate, back in the direction of the palace. “You may escort me to the door, if you would,” she said. “It is almost dinnertime, and we both should be back. I must change my clothes, and you—” She gave him a sideways glance.
He laughed. “I must change, too, or Milo will throw me over the wall and feed me to the raelynx,” he said.
“Well, then,” she said. “Let us go make ourselves presentable.”
THERE was no chance to find Senneth immediately and repeat the gist of the conversation with Valri. While Cammon scrubbed his face and changed into a freshly pressed uniform, he had leisure to consider whether, in fact, he should tell Senneth about the encounter. Valri was a mystic; surely that was something Senneth needed to know. Yet perhaps Valri had been confiding a secret to him, and Cammon knew all about protecting secrets. A reader, as Jerril had told him more than once, had a sacred obligation to respect the privacy of others.
For now, Cammon decided, he would keep the information to himself.
He stood before his mirror and fastened the last three buttons of his coat. He almost looked neat, in the severe black jacket and highly polished boots. He had used water to slick down his reprehensible hair, and, for the next five minutes anyway, it would stay in place. But he doubted he would look anything near this tidy by the time the dinner was over.
With the other footmen, he ate a hasty meal in the kitchen and then took up a post in the dining hall. Tonight, the guests were all from Gillengaria, and most of them exuded goodwill. Cammon’s attention linger
ed awhile on a sullen young woman who came with her parents and sat only a few places removed from Amalie. But fairly soon he was convinced that her dark mood sprang from resentment and a quarrel among family members and had nothing to do with Amalie or the king. Everyone else made every effort to be cordial, and the collective mood was amiable.
About halfway through the meal, Amalie beckoned him over. For a moment, he didn’t realize he was being summoned. The king would often call over one of the footmen and murmur a private command in his ear, but Cammon had never been singled out, and Amalie had never motioned anyone to her side. Uncertainty kept him in place until she frowned and signaled him again.
He tried to imitate the noiseless tread of the other footmen—who all looked quite amused—and crept to her side. “Majesty?” he whispered.
“Why have you not been to see me in two days?” she asked in a low voice.
Surprise almost sent him crashing into the table. “Majesty?”
Her expression remained serene, her attention still appeared to be fixed on the table before her, but her low voice was furious. “You promised you would be my friend. But for two days you stay away and I only see you when you’re standing in the dining hall, watching all of us eat our food.”
“Majesty—but—Milo told me you didn’t need me,” he said, very quickly and very quietly. “He said he would tell me when you did.”
She compressed her lips for a moment, then smiled and nodded at something a plump older woman had said. “You’ll have to leave now,” she said under her breath. “Go from the room, stand outside for five minutes, then come back in and whisper in my ear.”
Now he was completely confused. “Majesty?”
“Go! Because otherwise everyone will wonder why I called you over. Then come back and pretend to tell me something. Oh, marlord Martin,” she added, speaking suddenly in an ordinary voice, though with a happy lilt to it, “I wish I had been there to see that!”
