by Sharon Shinn
He made himself lift his head and look at Kirra, whose face was a study in wretchedness and compassion. He found a moment to wonder why Senneth had bothered to lie about her heritage at all, though he supposed she’d had her reasons, but it was clear Kirra had known all along. Well, of course she would. Kirra, too, was a serramarra. They might have known each other since the day Kirra was born.
“Which House?” he managed to ask, his voice a rasp.
Kirra glanced down at Senneth, so Tayse followed her gaze. Senneth had twisted her head enough so that she could look up at him through her lashes. Her skin was absolutely white; her gray eyes showed only the faintest wash of color.
“Which House?” he repeated.
Senneth answered. “Brassenthwaite.”
CHAPTER 30
TAYSE slept heavily till noon. He had thought, of course, that he would never sleep again—or else he would sleep forever, lie down on this crumpled blanket and close his eyes and then give over his spirit to whichever of the jealous gods chose to claim him. But, like any ordinary man, he slept for a few hours and then woke. He could not say that he felt any better for it. His body moved with the sluggishness that might come after secret poisoning. His heart beat with a listless rhythm, and his limbs responded with protest to his commands.
He had heard of men who were laid low by despair or grief, men who let bitter emotions rob their bodies of all strength. He had thought of them with some contempt, for who would ever be weak enough to be ruled by the passions of the heart? But he understood them all now. For the first time he believed that a man could be wounded even if no sword cut his chest, even if no arrow pierced his throat. He realized there were wounds to the soul that could fell even the strongest soldier.
He forced himself to his feet and walked around the fire to where Kirra sat and Donnal lay beside Senneth. “How is she?” he asked, and even to himself his voice sounded choked.
Kirra looked up at him. “Sleeping. But she ate some more a few hours ago, and I can feel the heat building up in her body. She’s getting stronger. She’ll recover fast, I think.”
He nodded. “What about you? I think you need to sleep, too.”
She nodded. “I will. After she wakes again and I feed her again.”
Justin came up from the land beyond the stream, a dead rabbit dangling from his hand. “Dinner,” he said with a grin. “Who needs wolves and raelynxes when he can set a trap?”
Tayse nodded at him. “Good. Now you sleep awhile. I’m up.” He glanced at the wolf, who had lifted his head from his paws and was regarding Tayse with a meditative stare. “You, too. Sleep.”
On the other side of the fire, Cammon was sitting up and yawning. “How’s Senneth?” he called.
“Better,” Tayse replied. “Time for our watch.”
Kirra waited till Donnal and Justin were settled and Cammon had trotted down to the river to wash up. Then she said to Tayse, “You can’t be angry with her for not telling you who she is.”
He shrugged, tired and in pain and not wanting to talk about it. “She owes me nothing. It is her right to tell me the story of her life, or not. How can it matter to me?”
“She was seventeen,” Kirra said in a hard, rapid voice. “Her father killed her son and threw her from the house. Because she was a mystic. My father would have taken her in—her mother’s relatives in Kianlever would have taken her in—Ariane Rappengrass offered her a home. But she wouldn’t stay. She just wandered off and—and—had that strange life she’s had. You’ve heard some of her stories. She doesn’t consider herself a Brassenthwaite anymore. She doesn’t claim to be from the Twelve Houses.”
“But she is,” Tayse said.
“No,” Kirra said. “She is Senneth. She is the greatest living mystic in Gillengaria. She has a wild power that she has brought under fierce control, and she has offered that power to the king. She is someone you can trust absolutely. Tayse, you’ve traveled at her side for six weeks. You know who she is. She hasn’t changed.”
He looked down at Senneth’s face, peaceful in sleep, brushed just now with the faintest blush of color. A good sign, that the fire was building again in her veins. “I never knew who she was,” he said. “And I haven’t changed either.”
THE next two days followed the same unvarying routine of sleeping and watching and tending to an invalid. Tayse took his turns acting as guard, tramping off to look for fuel, fetching water, cooking the meals. But there was no longer any need to help Kirra with Senneth, because Senneth was well enough now to sit on her own, feed herself, change her clothes if she needed to. Her temperature had risen back almost to its normal pitch, so not even Donnal needed to lie beside her at night to keep her body warm. Indeed, it would be only a day or two, Tayse guessed, before she would again command such reserves of heat that she would be able to light fires with her fingers and create whole temperate zones with her physical presence.
She didn’t need any of them, though only Tayse seemed to realize that. The others hovered around her, solicitous and affectionate by turns, made ridiculous with relief. There was a great deal of laughter around the campfire those two days, though Tayse himself did not laugh much. He was fairly certain there was no laughter left for him in the world.
The evening of that second day Senneth insisted on standing, and walking a small circle around the campfire, and then taking even more halting steps down to the edge of the stream. “I started out four days ago, hoping to get clean,” she said stubbornly, “and clean I will be. You men—go somewhere else. Kirra will help me.”
So he and Justin and Cammon and Donnal withdrew some distance, going up to the road to see if there had been much traffic recently. Cammon and Donnal faced in the direction of the convent, as if to sense or smell trouble that might come from that route, but neither of them had any observations to offer. Tayse’s own attention was fixed behind them, on the water, in case there should be a cry for help from a weak woman or a drowning one. But no voices called them back, and when they returned to the fire, Senneth and Kirra were sitting before it, damp and smiling.
“I think we should ride out tomorrow,” Senneth said.
“No,” Kirra replied.
“The day after, then,” Senneth said.
Kirra narrowed her eyes and looked at Senneth, as if considering. “Maybe. But we’d have to go slow.”
“We’ll set out the day after tomorrow,” Senneth repeated, and it was clear they would not be able to dissuade her. “So, Donnal, you should leave in the morning for Gisseltess to carry a message to Halchon. We can probably be in Lochau four or five days from now. Perhaps he can meet us then, or soon thereafter.”
Donnal nodded. “Will he come, do you think?”
Senneth stared somewhat moodily into the fire. “Yes. I think so.”
“Then I’ll be on my way in the morning.”
They had no paper with them, no writing implements—but Kirra was never at a loss in such situations. A broad, dry, winter leaf became a sheet of pressed paper; in her hands, a twig and a cup of water transformed to pen and ink. Frowning and writing very slowly, Senneth composed a letter to Halchon Gisseltess, then threw it in the fire.
“I need more paper,” she said.
Kirra gave her a look of exasperation, then produced a whole sheaf of pages. “Let me know when you’re about to ruin all these,” she said.
Senneth laughed. “I think it will only take me a few more tries.”
In the end, she produced a message that seemed acceptable to her, though she did not appear delighted with it. She folded the paper, fastened it with a royal seal she borrowed from Tayse, and handed it to Donnal. “I would prefer that you give it directly into Halchon’s hands,” she said. “Though you may not be allowed so close. If you find that the king’s seal does not get you very far, use my name. It may open some doors.”
Donnal nodded and tucked the paper inside his pocket. “Should I meet you in Lochau or somewhere on the road?”
Senneth shrugged.
“Start in Lochau, maybe, and if we’re not there, come look for us. We’ll be staying—” She looked at Kirra.
“The Dalian Inn, by the harbor,” Kirra said. “It’s where my father stays in Lochau.”
“And you’ll be under your own names?” Donnal asked.
Senneth laughed and did not answer. Kirra was grinning. “We’ll use Danalustrous,” Kirra said. “It may do us some good in that particular city.”
None of them had breathed the name Brassenthwaite since that morning two days ago. Tayse was not even sure that Justin and Donnal and Cammon knew it. Well, Donnal, surely. Cammon perhaps. And Cammon might have confided what he knew to Justin. For such a small group, they had an amazing number of individual connections. But no one had said the name again in Tayse’s hearing.
He would be just as happy if no one ever did.
DONNAL was gone before the rest of them were up. Cammon assumed a quiet air of responsibility, since he was now the only person in the camp with heightened sensibilities as long as Kirra remained in human form. The rest of them spent the day getting ready for travel: repacking clothes, organizing their remaining food, refilling water containers, taking a last chance to get thoroughly clean as long as they were so close to water. Tayse checked and rechecked his weapons. Senneth alternated between taking long naps to refresh her body and taking long walks to strengthen it. Tayse had to admit she looked more hearty than he would have expected, only five days after a potentially fatal wound. Her own magic or Kirra’s, he could not be sure, but magic nonetheless.
In the morning, they were on their way almost at the first sign of dawn. Tayse paused to release most of the convent horses from their tethers. He kept the bay and the dapple gray that Justin had praised so highly, herding them along with Donnal’s horse as their party headed for the road. The weather was crisp but clear and not unduly cold. A few more weeks, a few more weeks—spring might actually arrive.
They rode at a steady but not particularly demanding pace, halting frequently to give Senneth a chance to rest. During the morning, she indignantly declared that she was just fine, they should stop worrying about her, but by late afternoon, it was obvious she was weary. Tayse pulled off the road while there were still a couple hours of daylight left, insisting they make an early camp.
“I’m fine,” Senneth said, scowling.
“Glad to hear it,” he responded. “I’m tired. We camp now.”
She was stronger in the morning, though, and they covered a greater distance by day’s end. Traffic on the road was brisk, and they saw plenty of Gisseltess soldiers riding to or from the region, though no convent guards passed them. The raelynx, who had stayed very visible during their last few days at the river camp, now melted into the countryside again, not even showing up as they stopped for the night.
“Is it still with us?” Tayse asked Cammon that second night.
Cammon nodded. “Not far away.”
“What are we going to do about him in Lochau?” Justin asked.
Senneth grimaced. “I’ve been worrying about that. We can hardly bring him into the Dalian Inn with us, even if I conceal him. Lochau is too big a city to be parading wild animals down the streets.”
Kirra appeared to be thinking. “Well,” she said at last, “if one of my father’s ships is in the harbor, we can crate him and put him on board. They must have accommodations for animals if we’re going to bring the horses.”
Senneth looked at her. “And who exactly will put the raelynx in the crate?” she asked.
Kirra grinned. “You, I thought.”
“I’ll do it,” Cammon said.
They all switched their attention to him. He reddened a little, then shrugged. “I think it will be calm for me. I’ll wait with it outside the city limits while Kirra makes arrangements with the ship captain, and then I’ll box it up and ride back with it to the ship. I’m sure I can handle it.”
Justin was nodding. “Sounds workable. If we can find a Danalustrous ship, if it’s big enough to take us all north. If the captain is willing to ferry wild animals in his hold.”
Tayse shook his head. “I cannot believe we have traveled all this way and found no safe place to leave that creature behind.”
Senneth looked at him, something she had rarely done these past few days. She was smiling, but her eyes were unreadable. “But Tayse, that creature is what got you rescued from Lumanen Convent,” she said. “Surely you would not abandon it now?”
You are the one who rescued me, he wanted to reply. Are you asking if I would abandon you after all our adventures together? “It is a wild thing,” he said deliberately. “We cannot ever truly know what it thinks or what it wants. It belongs to a world outside of ours, and we cannot bring it inside our own. It will always be more exotic than we wish.”
Kirra raised her eyebrows and divided a look between Tayse and Senneth. Cammon looked down at his plate. Justin seemed oblivious. “Well,” the other Rider said, “I think we owe it safe passage. And I kind of like having it prowl along beside us, nobody but us knowing it’s there or what it can do. It makes me feel—” He stopped and spread his hands. “Well, I just like it,” he said.
Senneth was smiling more warmly now. “Yes,” she said, “it’s become one of us, whether we wanted it to or not. No turning back now or casting it aside, even if we tried. No matter how strange or dangerous it is to our peace of mind.”
To Tayse’s intense irritation, Kirra was trying to smother a giggle, and Cammon was grinning into the fire. Justin was nodding. “Exactly,” Justin said. “So I hope we can find a way to get it back to Ghosenhall. The king might enjoy seeing it.”
“The king,” said Senneth softly, “will be delighted.”
TAYSE had the middle watch that night, taking over from Cammon. By habit, he first checked all the sleepers to verify that they were still breathing, then stepped away from the circle of firelight to make a slow tour of the perimeter. They were only half a day’s ride from Lochau now; he would not have been surprised to find other travelers settled nearby. Indeed, he could see a few campfires in the distance, because most of the countryside here was hilly but open, undulating away from the road in gentle brown waves. None of the other campfires was close enough to be in hailing distance, however, and Tayse felt relatively secure. Though he would not truly feel they were all safe till they were back in the barracks at Ghosenhall—and some of them would not be safe even then.
What would Senneth do after she made her report to the king? Set off on her random wandering again, or pursue a more specific mission for the court? What would the king do? Call up his loyal armies and prepare for war, or assemble his councilors and make plans for peace? Whom would Tayse himself follow and protect, if he were given a choice? He could not bring himself to answer the question. He tramped on in a widening circle around the camp, intent on providing what sanctuary he could for those currently under his protection. He could not, at the moment, do better than that.
When he turned to make his way back to the campfire, he was brought up short by a dark silhouette standing in his path. His body tensed, and his hand went automatically to his knife hilt. But the figure moved until it caught the faint starlight, and its outline was entirely familiar. He knew by the color of her hair, the shape of her shoulders, the response of his own body, who had come to find him in the dead of night.
“You should be sleeping,” he said.
“I was restless.”
“Are you still in pain?”
A shadow of a shrug in the starlight. “Now and then. Less every day. If I lie on my left side, pain is what wakes me.”
“Kirra might have something for that.”
“I’m always fine by morning.”
He came a few steps closer, and Senneth fell in step beside him. Much more slowly than was necessary, they made their circular way back toward camp. “Are you worried about this meeting with Halchon Gisseltess?” he asked.
“A little,” she said. “He’s powerful, he’s unpre
dictable, and I don’t know what he wants. Is there any way to turn him from an enemy to a friend? And will I be able to discover that way? These questions keep me awake much longer than pain does.”
“You should try harder to sleep when you can,” was all he could think to say in response.
He was looking straight before him, but he caught her quick sideways glance. “What keeps you awake at night, Tayse?” she asked softly. “For you look grim and exhausted every morning.”
He found himself unable to reply.
“You should at least make to my face the accusations you have been making to me silently,” she went on.
“Is your own name an accusation, then?” he said heavily. “Senneth Brassenthwaite. You tell me.”
“I have not gone by the name Brassenthwaite since I was seventeen,” she said. “I have not been in my father’s House since that time—I have not made any claim on my heritage or my blood. There is nothing Brassenthwaite about me except the brand on my skin.”
“Brassenthwaite is branded into your soul.”
She stopped and twisted around to face him; by her quick movements, he knew she was suddenly flushed with anger. “Magic is branded into my soul,” she said in a hard voice. “Magic is what shapes and defines me, and magic is why you distrusted me from the very beginning. Now you find that I bear a noble name and come from a haughty lineage, and you despise me even more. Tell me, Tayse, what would I have to be—who would I have to be—for you to allow yourself to love me?”
“Riders allow themselves to love no one but their king.”
“You could at least do me the favor of not lying to me.”
“You could do me the favor of unenchanting me,” he whispered.
