Mystic and Rider

  Justin nodded, instantly sobering. “We won’t go if you think we shouldn’t.”

  “Go,” Tayse replied. “But go carefully.”

  Justin’s glinting grin came again. “Or at least go well-armed.”

  They all returned to their rooms to dress for the night, Kirra putting on black trousers and a black jacket and covering her braided hair with a soft black cap. As Senneth watched, she subtly shaded her features so that they were neither so patrician nor so feminine.

  “You want to look like a boy,” Senneth observed.

  Kirra laughed. “Never been inside a brothel.”

  “You wouldn’t really—”

  “Well, no, probably not. But I would be tempted, I admit.”

  Senneth shook her head. “You’re a hoyden.”

  Kirra laughed again. “Always was.”

  Senneth stretched out on the bed, sinking gratefully into the yielding mattress. “Strange, when you can be so elegant. Even when I was living in my father’s house, I couldn’t attain the same degree of refinement that comes so naturally to you.”

  Kirra checked herself in the mirror. Her chin grew harder and firmer, and the shape of her nose more bulbous. “Oh, no, that’s simply acting,” she said. “That’s me trying to imagine how Casserah would behave. I’m really just as undomesticated as your raelynx.” Her eyes met Senneth’s in the glass. “You can’t do it because it’s impossible for you to be anything but totally honest. You could never have been a shiftling. You can’t pretend to be something you’re not. It’s too hard for you to lie.”

  “Some people would dispute that,” Senneth said with a sigh.

  Kirra grinned and turned from the mirror. “And some people absolutely cannot tear themselves away from you, even for a night of pleasure,” she said. “Now, what are you going to do about that?”

  Senneth scowled at her. “What do you mean?”

  Kirra gestured. “Our room—his room—empty except for the two of you. Surely you can think of ways to mend your differences.”

  Senneth groaned and slid down on the bed, pulling one of the pillows over her face. “Go. Out. Leave before I set you on fire.”

  “Other people you could be enflaming tonight,” Kirra said, and hastily departed. The cushion Senneth threw at her bounced harmlessly off the door.

  In truth, Senneth fell asleep again before she could seriously consider acting upon Kirra’s suggestion. Her body had been sapped of strength by too many demands; she was not prepared to add to its litany of stresses another unfruitful argument with Tayse. The idea that this time the argument might end differently did force her eyes open again for a moment, but tonight she didn’t have the kind of energy that she would want to bring to any kind of physical encounter. No—and, anyway, Tayse hardly seemed ready to relent and love her. He would not welcome one more bold advance from the deceptive noble mystic. She closed her eyes again, and she slept.

  IN the morning, Kirra and the young men were full of secrets and laughter, leading Senneth to suppose their evening of merriment had gone extremely well. “What exactly did you do last night?” Senneth finally asked over breakfast.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” Kirra replied.

  Senneth looked around at the grinning faces, then glanced at Tayse. Smiling faintly, he shook his head. “I guess not,” she said.

  “But you can come with us tonight, if you like,” Cammon said.

  “Sure. We’ll find something else to do,” Justin added.

  They all laughed again, shared guilty looks, then broke into fresh giggles. “You’re very annoying,” Senneth said.

  “They’re very young,” Tayse said.

  Senneth sighed. “I was never that young.”

  “Come on,” Kirra said. “I’ll take you shopping.”

  “No. I want to be here in case Halchon arrives.”

  “He probably won’t get here for another day,” Donnal said.

  “Still,” Senneth said. “Just in case. That means that some of you have to be with me at all times.” She let her gaze flick quickly around the table. “Kirra—Tayse—Justin. Don’t go far.”

  Tayse nodded. “We’ll be here. No matter when he arrives.”

  CHAPTER 32

  IN fact, Halchon Gisseltess and his entourage pulled into the courtyard of the Dalian Inn shortly after noon. All six of them were sitting in the men’s chamber, playing a game of cards for money, and all of them were losing pretty handily to Donnal.

  “I think he’s cheating,” Justin said at last. “I think he’s changing the cards as he holds them in his hands.”

  “That’s what I’m doing, but it doesn’t seem to be doing me any good,” Kirra said.

  They were all still laughing when Cammon lifted his head and seemed to be listening. Senneth watched him, eyebrows raised. There were a lot of people crammed into the narrow streets of Lochau; it would be impressive if Cammon could pick out a handful of individuals over the general chaos.

  “Group of riders just crossed into the city,” Cammon said. “Soldiers, it feels like. Maybe seven or eight of them.”

  Kirra and Senneth exchanged glances. “Probably Halchon,” Senneth said. “Let’s go check our hair.”

  They slipped back into their own room to see if they needed to make any improvements. Kirra was wearing her usual red, trimmed today with heavy ivory lace. Senneth had opted for black and gold, the king’s colors, in a very narrow, formal dress of drastically simple cut. Her hair was too short and too wayward to respond well to styling, but Kirra had manufactured a black band and used it to hold stray locks back from Senneth’s face. The look was severe but striking.

  “I wonder if he’ll recognize me,” Senneth said, gazing at herself in the mirror.

  “How well did he know you before? Weren’t you only seventeen when you disappeared? What did you look like then?”

  Senneth continued to eye her reflection and didn’t answer any of the questions.

  A soft knock fell on the door. “Serra Kirra? You and your—your companion have a visitor.” It was the clerk’s voice, and he sounded unnerved. “Marlord Halchon has asked—has asked for you. Both of you.”

  Kirra grinned at Senneth. “Could it be? Our visitor specified you by name, and our landlord is startled to find how illustrious his guest is.”

  “Halchon never did have any discretion,” Senneth said and opened the door.

  Indeed, the clerk was standing there, looking most uneasy as he waited for the women to appear. That might have been, Senneth thought, because the men of her traveling party were also waiting in the hall, two of them heavily armed and looking like threat personified. But it might have been because Halchon had asked for Senneth Brassenthwaite.

  “Thank you,” she said calmly to the clerk. “Tell him we’ll be right down.”

  “He’s in the private parlor,” the clerk said, speaking to Kirra but giving Senneth quick, disbelieving looks.

  “Thank you,” Kirra said. “How many men does he have with him?”

  “Four in the parlor, two outside the door. I didn’t check to see if there were more in the courtyard. I could—”

  “Never mind,” Senneth said. “Tell him we’ll be there momentarily.”

  She waited till he was out of sight, then she issued quick orders. “Donnal. Take bird shape and await us on the roof. If there’s any problem here, go directly to the Danalustrous ship in the harbor and get word to Kirra’s father. Cammon. I want you to wait in the hall right outside the parlor. If any trouble threatens, interrupt us immediately. Justin, Tayse. You come in the room with us.”

  “Will he allow that?” Tayse asked.

  Senneth smiled grimly. “Oh yes. His own men are there. He will expect to see us defended as well.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Kirra asked.

  “Just stand there and look noble. Unfortunately, I think this is my interview. He’s come to hear what I have to offer.”

  She caught Kirra’s sharp look and Tayse’s
puzzled one. She smiled. “Well, let’s see what Halchon Gisseltess has to say.”

  TWO soldiers were guarding the parlor, both wearing the crest of Gisseltess: a falcon clutching a red flower in its talons. Four more soldiers with the same insignia stood just inside the room. Senneth and her companions stepped through the door, Senneth trying to make her own carriage as regal as Kirra’s—which, perhaps, meant she was really imitating the supercilious Casserah Danalustrous. It was comforting to feel Tayse so close behind her, even though she did not turn to look at him. She could see the soldiers inside the room cast calculating looks his way and knew that his appearance, as always, was formidable. Just now, she needed a formidable presence at her back.

  Halchon Gisseltess stood gazing out the window, his back to them, and did not turn around immediately. Senneth took the opportunity to study him. He was dressed in riding gear: leather pants tucked into black boots, a short wool coat on his back. His hair was slightly ruffled from wind, but still thick and heavy as it fell to his collar. Streaks of silver lightened its blackness, but he had not grayed as much as his sister had. Then again, he was ten years younger than Coralinda. Just over forty. A powerfully built, powerfully stubborn, and powerfully dangerous man.

  “Halchon,” Senneth said, when she was tired of the tense silence in the room. “I’m so glad you could find the time to see me.”

  Now he turned, but she was braced for the hard slap of his personality as all his attention came quickly to bear on her. His eyes were midnight black, his square face not nearly so handsome but just as fierce as she remembered it. This was what her raelynx might look like if it took human shape and aged for a couple of decades.

  “Senneth,” he said, and his voice was beautiful and hard, like an exotic wood or an edged blade. “It has been too long.”

  Not long enough, she thought. “You’ve been busy, these past years,” she said. “I hear tales of Gisseltess prowess and Gisseltess products across the whole of Gillengaria.”

  “I oversee a very rich property,” he said. “And I have considered it my duty to make it flourish. I think even Brassenthwaite and Danalustrous would acknowledge that Gisseltess is among the greatest of the Houses.”

  “As it always has been,” Senneth said. “Yet these days there are—rumors—that perhaps Gisseltess is overreaching itself. Striving for roles and honors that, strictly speaking, the House does not deserve.”

  He smiled, a charming, feral smile such as a raelynx might produce. “That’s the Senneth I remember,” he said, and his tone was admiring. “Straight to the point, and no pleasantries beforehand. I knew you could not be in this room five minutes without going on the attack.”

  “I have not attacked you,” she said, keeping her voice very calm. “But I am here to ask you questions. We have been on the road several weeks, my friends and I. And we were not traveling long before we came across Gisseltess soldiers interfering in matters that seemed more rightly to belong to Helven and Fortunalt troops. It led me to wonder how far your influence extends these days—and how far you want it to spread.”

  “I want to rule the country—surely that cannot come as a surprise to you?” he replied instantly. “I have always been ambitious. I have always wanted to acquire more land, more money—more influence, as you say. If the conditions were right, I would happily take over the management of all the southern Houses—and the middle Houses, and the northern Houses, and Ghosenhall itself. Is that what you wanted to hear me say?”

  “Only if it’s true,” she answered.

  He laughed. “And do you think it’s true?”

  “From what I have seen, it is certainly possible,” she said. “I suppose what I really want to know is why. And why now.”

  He was holding a glass of some kind of amber liquid; he took a meditative sip and set it down. “The why and the why now are the same, I suppose,” he said. “We have an aging king on the throne. Beside him sits a mysterious queen, and somewhere in the shadowy recesses of his palace flits a strange young princess whom very few have ever seen. The succession is in danger, Senneth, and I am not the only one to say so. A royal line in turmoil puts a country in chaos. A country in chaos puts a crown up for grabs.” He shrugged. “I am just the man to grab it. So I ready myself for the opportunity.”

  “There is no proof yet that the king is ill or his daughter unfit,” Senneth said. “You move too soon.”

  “Better too soon than too late.”

  “And if the king yet produces an heir capable of ruling? Princess Amalie or a half sibling born to Queen Valri? Don’t you worry about being at the center of a bid for treason?”

  “Well, the queen has produced no heir as of yet,” he said, sounding amused, “and, the situation being what it is, she may never have the opportunity.”

  “So that is enough for you. That is reason enough to arm for war,” Senneth said. It could hardly be a surprise after the revelations of the past few weeks, but still she found herself unable to credit a philosophy so simple and so brutal. “You doubt the strength of your king, but without proof, and without consultation, you plan to steal the throne from him—and claim it is to ensure the stability of the realm.”

  He shrugged. “Oh, I have already admitted I am ambitious. My motives are not entirely altruistic. But I tell you plainly that if this king dies without an acceptable heir, and no plans have been made to install a ruler in his place, we are headed for civil war before his bones are even cold in his grave. I have moved up the timetable by a few years, perhaps, but war has been plotted in the background ever since Amalie was born.”

  “Your sister speaks of a holy war and seems to care not at all about kings and princesses and shaky successions,” said Senneth. “Yet she is poised to cause almost as much damage as you are.”

  Halchon gave her a wide smile. “My sister’s passion has been convenient,” he admitted. “We pursue the same ends for different reasons. I could not have asked for a better ally. But it is not she who will rally forces and command troops. If there is a war, it will be fought at my direction.”

  “ ‘If there is a war,’ ” Senneth repeated. “What would it take to make you draw back from your plotting?”

  “Concessions I doubt the king would be willing to make,” Halchon said. “But you could pass along my concerns to him and see what he has to say. If he is eager to avoid bloodshed—if he is indeed tired and worried about the future of his country—he may be willing to make a treaty with me. I am ready to be reasonable.”

  “Then tell me your conditions,” Senneth said. “I return to Ghosenhall as soon as I leave Lochau.”

  “Name me heir,” Halchon said. “It is as simple as that.”

  Senneth felt her eyebrows lift. “And don’t you wonder—just a little—how the marlords of the other Houses would feel about Gisseltess being suddenly raised to such a position of prominence?”

  Halchon shrugged. “I am willing to make an alliance. I am willing to take a bride from some northern House and spawn children of mixed blood who will take the throne after me.”

  “You already have a wife,” Senneth said.

  “Wives are easily disposed of,” he said.

  Senneth felt her blood, always so warm, turn frosty in her veins. “You are willing to be quite ruthless to attain your ends,” she said in a neutral voice. “Don’t you worry that by invalidating your current marriage—by whatever means—you will anger your wife’s family and dismantle an existing alliance?”

  “I almost married a Nocklyn girl,” he said conversationally. “But that very circumstance held me back. So I married from within the ranks of Gisseltess nobility. I was thinking very far ahead, you see. No one in Gisseltess will turn against me.”

  Her skin turned chillier and chillier. She thought she knew what was coming very soon, but she could not keep herself from asking more questions. “Your sons?” she asked against a dry throat. “They won’t be furious if their mother is cast aside?”

  “They will be given high r
ank in the new court when they are old enough. And the powerful Houses will seek them as husbands for their daughters, as a way to ensure some connection to the court and some hold over me. I do not think they will suffer much.”

  “I do not think the other eleven Houses will be satisfied by such a measure,” Senneth said. “I do not think they will so happily give over control of Ghosenhall to you.”

  “They will if I choose the right bride,” he said. “They will have no choice, for the alliance will be too strong.”

  Colder and colder—ice in her bones. “And what alliance would you pursue?” she made herself ask.

  Halchon’s night-black eyes glanced at Kirra and returned to Senneth. “Danalustrous would do,” he said, “but that would be my second choice. Malcolm Danalustrous is a tricky ally in the best of times. I cannot be so certain what course of action he might take, even to avert a war.”

  Senneth couldn’t bring herself to look at Kirra, who mercifully stayed mute. “And if not Danalustrous?” she said.

  He fixed her with that midnight gaze, impossible to look away from. She had hated a fair number of people in her life, but none of them as much as she hated Halchon Gisseltess. “Brassenthwaite,” he said. “You.”

  There was absolute silence in the room.

  Halchon continued. “It was the marriage I wanted nearly twenty years ago, and it’s the one I want now. Your brother is a more reasonable man than Malcolm Danalustrous. I think he would grasp the advantages of the match right away, just as your father did. And seeing Brassenthwaite fierce in support of the throne, I think the other Houses would fall quickly in line to accept me. To accept you and me,” he amended.

  She could not look at Kirra, at Tayse, but she could feel their astonished attention focused on her as they solved some of the final mysteries of her life. Her throat was so tight she was not sure she could speak, but she was making a supreme effort to appear normal, to appear detached. “It has been a long time,” she said, “since I acted at the direction of my brothers.”

  “Much has changed since then,” he said.