by Sharon Shinn
Cammon looked startled. “How did you know that?”
She smiled. “Because I am, too. A very useful talent, I have discovered. I should be able to show you a thing or two by day’s end.”
Cammon with an even greater ability to pick up images from other people’s minds and see right through attempts at deception and illusion. Tayse could not bring himself to be sure that was a good thing.
“So!” Aleatha said, coming to her feet. “Who wants pie?”
CHAPTER 16
AS it turned out, when they headed toward Rappen Manor the following day, they left behind not only Cammon and the raelynx, but Donnal besides. Senneth had decided that Tayse and Justin would ride into the city in their full Rider regalia, and Tayse was not willing to have Donnal pretend to be one of them. And Kirra, for once, seemed willing to travel a few yards without Donnal at her side. And the young man himself seemed perfectly willing to spend the whole day lounging around the mystic’s house, eating rich food and dozing away the afternoon hours.
Thus only four of them rode into the city around Rappen Manor fairly early in the morning. It was a fine city, clearly enjoying its reputation for wealth and sophistication, and it was too large for Tayse to easily determine where all the roads ran and where all the trouble spots might lie. A broad scrollwork gate protected the road that led into town, and a contingent of maroonsashed soldiers guarded the gate. But on this bright, cool morning, the metal doors were thrown back, and the soldiers themselves looked cheerful and at ease. They scrambled to attention to salute the King’s Riders, and they made quick bows to serra Kirra, who rode behind them. They might have puzzled a bit over the lady’s companion, who neither dressed like gentry nor behaved like a servant. Perhaps they took her for a scholar, or an advisor to Malcolm Danalustrous. In any case, she swept in behind the Riders and beside the serramarra, and managed to look both intriguing and mysterious.
Which, Tayse thought, was no more than the truth.
There was no need to ask for directions to their destination, he realized almost instantly. Rappen Manor itself sat on high ground at the center of the city, an imposing fortress of gray stone and narrow turrets, the maroon flag of Rappengrass flying at all four corners. Tayse admired the choice of location, which had to give the heirs of Rappengrass a view of all approaches to the manor. It did not look like a place that would fall easily to treachery or stealth.
“Should we send a message first, or ride straight up to the gates?” Kirra asked.
“Straight to the gates,” Senneth said. “I don’t think she’ll turn you back unheard.”
Tayse was in front of them, so he could not see Kirra’s expression, but the tone of her voice was cautious. “And how do you plan to introduce yourself?”
Senneth’s voice was underscored with a wry laugh. “Oh, Ariane knows me from way back. I plan just to enter the room as myself.” A short silence. “But I think it is your name that will get us inside the walls.”
Indeed, at all the checkpoints they encountered, this proved to be true—and there were quite a few checkpoints. Soldiers barred the way at yet another gate, this one set into a seven-foot-high wall that appeared to encircle the manor grounds. But Kirra’s greeting and her request got them waved through with alacrity.
There were more soldiers at the outer door—more inside—and an army of servants who guarded smaller and smaller circles of sanctuary within the manor itself. Finally they were turned over to a tall, stooped, graying man who peered at them from a face of acute intelligence.
“Naturally, marlady Ariane will wish to speak with you,” this individual said in a smooth voice. “But it may be a moment or two before she can free herself from other responsibilities. Will you wait here? I will have refreshments brought. Is there anything else I can do to make your wait more pleasant?”
“No, Ralf, thank you so much for your kindness,” Kirra said in her warm voice. “It is good to see you again, looking so well.”
He smiled and gave her a small bow. “And it is always a pleasure to see you, serra.” He flicked one quick look at Senneth but did not address her by name. Perhaps he didn’t know her as his mistress did. His face showed neither recognition nor puzzlement. He bowed again and went out.
“Guesses,” Kirra said as soon as the door shut. “How long we’ll be left here. I say two hours.”
“Till nightfall,” Justin said pessimistically.
Tayse shook his head. “Sooner than that,” he said. “A daughter of a great House accompanied by two King’s Riders? She’ll be here inside the hour.”
Senneth smiled. “Tayse is right.”
Indeed, Ralf was back in the room before the tray of refreshments had even arrived. “The marlady is most desirous of seeing you immediately,” he said. “Could you follow me?”
Kirra and Senneth stepped forward, the men at their heels. Ralf gave them a doubtful look. “I would prefer,” Kirra said in a soft voice, “that they accompany us at least to the door of the room where we will meet with your mistress. I have seen things on the road that make me wish to have my friends always close about me.”
Again, that small bow from Ralf. His acquiescence must mean the whole hallway was crawling with soldiers, Tayse thought—enough that Ralf believed they could overcome even two Riders who might suddenly go on a rampage. Ariane Rappengrass, it would appear, did not feel entirely safe these days.
So the four of them followed the steward—or whoever he was—down graceful stone corridors and through lovely arched doorways. Tapestries on the wall and stained glass in the window embrasures did not entirely conceal the fact that Rappen Manor had been built as a fortress. Tayse glanced out through one window that featured clear glass and found himself overlooking what appeared to be a training yard. At least fifty men were practicing maneuvers and testing each other with their swords. No, whatever trouble brewed in the kingdom, Ariane Rappengrass was not about to be caught unprepared.
They finally came to the end of a long, ornate hallway, lined with an array of weaponry and guarded by at least ten men. It ended in a wide door of dark wood and ornate brass handles. Ralf gave Tayse and Justin a cool look.
“You may wait out here,” he said.
Tayse nodded, and he and Justin fell back, one to either side of the door. The guards eyed them but made no greeting or show of hostility. Ralf pulled open the door, and the women followed him inside.
The next hour passed in unrelieved tedium, though Tayse was careful to always appear entirely alert. Across from him, Justin never wavered from a watchful stance, his arms at his sides, his hands resting on the hilts of his weapons. The guards around them seemed similarly vigilant and far from bored; they did not engage in casual conversation and made no move to try such distractions with the newcomers. This was a council of war, and all the fighting men knew it. And respected it.
Finally, Tayse caught the sound of voices as people inside came close to the door. Ralf was the first one through, followed closely by Senneth. Kirra stepped across the threshold side by side with another woman, whom Tayse guessed to be the lady of the manor. She was fairly formidable looking, big-boned, tall, with thick gray hair caught back in a severe style and an expression of utter seriousness on her broad features. She did not much resemble her son, he thought.
“I am glad you came to me,” she was saying, and her voice was low-pitched and strong. Tayse imagined that she could stand on the ramparts of her fortress and call out her own commands to the soldiers deployed below her, should such a need arise. “Tell Malcolm that, as always, he has my full confidence and support. Tell Baryn that as well. Rappengrass will not fail.”
“I am glad to hear that,” Kirra said. She paused, then enveloped the older woman in a quick embrace. “I am also glad to see you so well. Pray the Pale Lady keeps you so.”
“The same prayers to you,” Ariane Rappengrass said. “Where do you ride next?”
Kirra glanced at Senneth, who had come to a halt just outside the door. “Nocklyn
, maybe,” Senneth said. “We haven’t decided.”
Ariane looked grave. “Be careful in Nocklyn.”
Senneth smiled. “We’re careful everywhere.”
Suddenly, an answering smile from Ariane Rappengrass. It transformed her severe face into one of great sweetness. “You cannot be surprised if I say I don’t believe you.”
Senneth laughed and came a step closer, her hand extended. Marlady Ariane shook it warmly. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Ariane,” Senneth said softly. “And to receive such a welcome in Rappengrass.”
Ariane did not immediately drop her hand. “I think about your father sometimes,” she said. “He was a good man.”
Senneth pulled her hand away. “No,” she said, “he was not.”
Ariane Rappengrass did not seem to feel rebuffed but continued to watch Senneth with a close attention. “When all this is done and you have come to the end of your wandering, return here if you decide you have nowhere else to go,” the older woman said. “I would hear the long tale of your adventures some evening when there is nothing else more pressing to attend to.”
Senneth laughed again. “Agreed,” she said. “I will practice the telling of my stories.”
Ariane leaned in then and kissed Senneth on the cheek. “Travel safely,” she said. Then she turned on her heel and reentered the room. Ralf closed the door behind her.
“Let me see you to the front hall,” he said and brushed past them.
Senneth collected Justin and Tayse with two quick looks, and the men fell in behind the women, who followed Ralf through the long hallways. The way out seemed even longer and more well-guarded than the way in, Tayse thought. It was a relief to make it finally to the front door, and then to the checkpoint where they had left their horses.
Not until they were on the road heading through the city to the outer gate did Tayse speak. “What did you learn?” he asked over his shoulder.
“That Ariane Rappengrass is preparing for war,” Senneth replied.
She didn’t seem disposed to share more, so the four of them traveled in virtual silence for the remainder of the ride. It was still relatively early in the afternoon when they made their way back to Aleatha’s cottage.
Cammon was waiting for them at the front gate.
“I knew you were coming,” he said in a voice of great excitement. “I could feel you. All four of you. Aleatha says if I concentrate, I’ll eventually be able to pick up emotions from the people I know over great distances. I couldn’t really sense you this time until you were about a quarter mile away,” he added.
Senneth smiled at him and swung down. “And has she also helped you learn how to not sense the people whose emotions you don’t want to feel?”
“She gave me some exercises to do,” he said. “She said that as I get more adept at reading people, it will be harder to filter them out. I have to say, I was starting to get a headache, so I’m glad you’re back.”
Donnal had materialized from nowhere and was helping Kirra from the saddle. “So, did you learn anything from Ariane Rappengrass?” he asked, looking at Senneth.
“A great deal,” she said. “Let me first check on the raelynx, and then we can all talk.”
Twenty minutes later, they were assembled in Aleatha’s front room, eating more pie and waiting for the mystics’ report. Kirra seemed disposed to let Senneth do the talking, and Senneth did not seem at all eager to begin the discussion.
“So the marlady was happy to see you, was she?” Aleatha finally asked in her comfortable voice, as if unaware of the tension in the room.
“I don’t know that happy is the word for it,” Senneth said. “Willing. She seemed relieved to know that King Baryn is aware of the trouble brewing in the south—aware enough to send agents to investigate, at any rate.”
“But she does not trust the king to take care of the trouble,” Aleatha said in her gentle voice.
Senneth looked at her. “No. She doesn’t.”
Justin ruffled. “The king will shirk no responsibilities. He’ll let nothing important slip through his hands.”
Senneth looked at him, as if considering. “There appears to be some fear among the marlords of the southern Houses that the king is not paying attention to many important things.”
Justin looked even more incensed. “The king is—whatever the king does—he knows what is vital and what is right.”
Tayse spoke more calmly. “What is her specific allegation?”
Senneth turned her gaze toward him. He thought he had never seen her look so uncertain. “It seems there is some belief that, since the king married a few years ago, he has been—he has not—he has been somewhat distracted from his duties,” Senneth said reluctantly.
Aleatha looked up, frowning. “You know, I can’t really recall much about this bride of his. Is she from one of the great Houses?”
“No,” Kirra said flatly.
“But surely she is noble,” Aleatha said. Her face was creased in concentration, as if she was trying to remember something.
“That’s just it,” Kirra said. “No one knows much about her. He married her only a few months after his first wife died—and everyone in the Twelve Houses had been shocked at Queen Pella’s death. She had been a Merrenstow girl, pretty and kind and tremendously popular. She hadn’t even been sick, as far as anyone knew. But one day we received the news that she was ill—and two days later, word went out that she was dead. Dead. It was impossible to believe. She was barely forty years old.”
“There are many fevers that will carry off a healthy woman within a day or two,” Aleatha said gravely. “It is sad, of course, but it happens all the time.”
“When those women have access to the best healers in the kingdom?” Senneth asked. “When no effort and no expense will be spared to save them?”
“So, as I say, her death came as quite a blow,” Kirra continued. “And then, only months later, we learned that the king had remarried—in a private ceremony that no one from the Twelve Houses attended. It has been a puzzle ever since. Who is this woman? Where did she come from? Why did the king choose her? Why has he seemed so reluctant to show her off to the aristocracy?”
Tayse spoke up. He was not a member of the royal household, of course, but he lived a stone’s throw from the palace and heard most of the gossip that filtered through those regal halls. “Queen Valri has presided over every public function King Baryn has held at court,” he said. “She is the hostess when guests arrive and the proxy when the king is gone. How can you say he conceals her?”
Now Senneth’s eyes, gray and perplexed, came to rest on him. “But she has not traveled far from Ghosenhall—or so Ariane Rappengrass claims,” Senneth said. “She has not attended weddings in Brassenthwaite or balls in Kianlever. And she has not been to the southern provinces at all. It is as if she only feels safe at court. And since he has married her,” she added, “the king has not showed much interest in traveling, either. It is, says Ariane, as if the two of them have holed themselves up in their castle and let the world around them be damned.”
Tayse could see that Justin wanted to dispute this, but that the younger Rider was doing a quick mental review of the past eighteen months and realizing that the Riders had not been called upon more than three times to escort the king beyond the boundaries of the royal city.
“Does Ariane Rappengrass attribute this circumstance to anything in particular?” Tayse asked softly.
Senneth nodded. “Oh yes. She says she does not believe it, but that the whispers are drifting down from the other Houses. The king has been subverted. He has been enchanted. Queen Valri is a mystic.”
Justin dropped his spoon. Aleatha and Cammon looked alarmed, and even Donnal’s narrow face seemed troubled.
“Ariane was quick to say that she did not care whether or not the queen was a mystic,” Kirra said. “But you can imagine how this scenario plays in Gisseltess. ‘The queen is a mystic! She has ensnared the king in her spells! We must trample all mys
tics and depose the king, and make Gillengaria safe again!’ ”
“For a man who fears magic, this would be the worst news imaginable,” Aleatha agreed.
“For the man who pretends to fear magic in order to devise a convenient excuse to foment rebellion,” Kirra retorted.
“Still, even if she is a sorceress, unless she has evil intentions, what could it possibly matter?” Aleatha said.
“For a man who hates magic, that is not even a reasonable question,” Senneth said. “He would ask instead, ‘Can we leave such a woman in power? What if her children are mystics? Can we turn the throne of Gillengaria over to a mage?’ ”
“Princess Amalie is the next in line to inherit the crown,” Tayse said swiftly.
Again, Senneth leveled that smoky gaze on him. “And when is the last time you have seen Princess Amalie?” she asked softly.
He could not answer that. It had been years since Riders had escorted the princess off the grounds of the palace, and what glimpses he got of Amalie and her stepmother were usually from a distance as they walked through gardens that Riders were not invited to enter. There was a story about some hazard the girl had survived in her childhood, and that had always served as explanation for why the king chose to keep her so safe, so close inside the palace confines. Tayse had never really given the matter much thought.
“So,” said Kirra. “This is the situation. The king’s wife dies—suddenly, under circumstances that some people considered strange even at the time. He remarries almost immediately, to a young woman no one has ever heard of. He seems so infatuated with his new bride that he rarely leaves the palace and makes no effort to integrate her into the upper reaches of society. His reclusive daughter has not been seen at all for at least five years. The new queen, one might think, would be eager to bear sons and daughters of her own. But if she is tainted by magic, and her heirs are tainted by the same magic, why should the good folk of Gillengaria be forced to see her evil progeny take over the throne? Isn’t a man justified in calling together his friends and his neighbors, in ridding the kingdom of this great danger? Isn’t he, in fact, almost required to do so, by the laws of honor and duty?”
