Dark Moon Defender
“I wish I didn’t believe you,” she said finally. She was sitting sideways across his legs, her head against his chest, and he had to lean down to hear her quiet voice. “But I do. I’ll ask Astira tomorrow, and maybe she’ll tell me that you’ve made it all up, it’s not true, but somehow I don’t think you’d lie to me. I mean, I know there are things you’re not telling me, and I don’t count that as lying. But about something like this—I don’t think you’d mislead me.”
“I’m so sorry, Ellynor.”
“Anyway, I know it’s true. We heard that five guards were missing, and that some of the bodies had been found. Someone said something about mystics, but I thought—I thought it was mystics who killed them. I didn’t know the guards were trying to do the killing.”
“The Lestra wants to destroy them all. I’m sure there will be more murders.” He thought of the scene he had witnessed, the convent guards burning down a nobleman’s house, and decided Ellynor could not bear to hear that story tonight. “Coralinda Gisseltess says she is carrying out the divine will of the Pale Mother.”
Ellynor stirred in his arms but did not pull away. “That’s not true,” she said.
“What’s not true? It is what she says.”
“Maybe, but—I don’t think—it doesn’t seem to me—I don’t think the Pale Mother is so cruel. She’s a vain and fickle goddess, yes, but there’s a sort of—childlike quality to her. She wants to be loved and admired. She’ll do anything she can to draw attention. But demand that people be killed—any people? I don’t think so. I just don’t believe it.”
Justin found himself, unexpectedly, amused. “And what would you know about the Silver Lady?”
A sound from Ellynor, almost a laugh. “Well, they’re sisters, aren’t they? All the goddesses? Where I come from, people worship the Dark Watcher, the goddess of night. And she is complex and difficult, and she hides terrible secrets, and I have known her to be cruel a time or two. But she doesn’t call for anyone’s murder. I don’t believe the Pale Mother does, either. I think the Lestra must have misunderstood.”
Ellynor’s hair had come loose from its knot while she rested her head against Justin’s chest, and now he ran his hands through it, slowly, absently, straightening out the tangles. The sliver of the moon had already set; there was not enough light to see the variegated patterns dyed into her hair, but he remembered them clearly enough. “Most people talk only of the Pale Mother,” he said cautiously. “Only lately have I heard references to any of the other goddesses—the Bright Mother, the Wild Mother—I think there are others. But no one seems to know anything about them.”
She seemed to tense slightly, as if afraid she had given something away. “I only know anything about those two,” she said rather quickly. “The goddess of night and the goddess of the moon. I couldn’t answer any of your questions.”
He had plenty of questions, none of them about deities. He continued stroking her hair until she grew calm again, relaxing against him. “So you think the Pale Mother does not hate mystics as much as the Lestra does,” he said. “That’s interesting.”
“All the Daughters seem to hate mystics,” she said.
He kept his voice casual, his hand gentle, so she could not know how important this question was to him. “How do you feel about mystics, Ellynor? Have you been influenced even a little by the Lestra’s hate?”
But something in his tone gave him away, because she tilted her head back as if trying to see his face more clearly. “I don’t think I hate anybody just on principle,” she said. “But why do you want to know?”
He chose his words carefully. “I have friends who are mystics—good friends. They will be in my life always, I think. If you and I are to be friends, I can’t be afraid that you will denounce them. I can’t be worrying that I put people I care about at risk.”
She was quiet long enough for him to imagine various cold responses. You don’t know me well enough to be worrying about how I fit into your life. Or, Are you telling me you would put other friendships above mine? Why would I want to continue this relationship then? But she did not offer those observations. “So it’s true,” she said quietly. “You protect the people you love even when they’re not right in front of you.”
He wasn’t sure what that meant. “I just want to know how you feel about mystics,” he said earnestly. “It’s important to me.”
She gave a soft laugh. “I’m not even really sure what mystics are,” she confessed. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across one in my life.”
“They can do magic.”
“But what does that mean? Magic? What kind of magic?”
“It depends on the mystic. Some can call fire. Some can change shapes.”
“Change shapes—you mean, change from human form? To what?”
“They become animals, mostly. Birds, wolves, dogs. I think they can even turn themselves into insects if they want.”
She sounded intrigued. “How exciting and frightening that would be! Can they still think? Are they still themselves? I don’t think I’d like that.”
He splayed his hand and let rivulets of dark hair trickle between each finger. “They say they are still themselves even in their altered forms. And, after all, they’re able to change themselves back, so they must remember who they really are.”
“Are there more kinds of magic?”
He nodded. “There are readers—men and women who can sense what you’re thinking and what you’re feeling. There are healers who can make you well if you’re sick.”
Ellynor laughed. “Oh, that’s not magic. That’s just the grace of the goddess.”
“Well, some people think sorcery is a gift from the gods. That each goddess has a particular strength or skill, and she’s passed this on to a few special people.”
“If that’s really true, think how angry the gods would be at the Lestra! For trying to harm the people that the deities had singled out!”
“So maybe the gods will go to war right alongside the marlords,” he said, slightly amused. “Think what a battle we would have then.”
She pushed away from him, a hand against his chest. “What do you mean, a war? You mentioned rebellion once before— and serra Paulina talked about an uprising—what’s happening? What are you afraid of?”
He was sure that, even in the dark, she could see the grimness on his face. “Some people believe that Halchon Gisseltess is gathering the marlords in a bid to take the throne. And that his sister—your Lestra—is in league with him. So far they haven’t made any overt moves, but the king is watching them. And everyone is afraid of what might happen next.”
She was still staring at him. “And you? What will you do, if there is a war? You’re a fighter. You must be planning to fight for somebody.”
He tried to pull her back against his chest, but she resisted, flattening her fingers against his vest and keeping her arm rigid. “I will fight with those who side with the king,” he said. “Which means I will be at war with Halchon Gisseltess and his sister. I hope that does not mean I will be at war with you.”
Now her face looked as troubled as it had earlier, when he told her about the hunting and murdering of mystics. “I do not want to go to war with anybody,” she said.
“You may be forced to choose,” he said gently. “If you cannot countenance what the Lestra does, what she says, you may have to leave the convent. In fact, I think you should. You are—”
“I can’t leave,” she said quickly. “Not now. Not with Rosurie still there and my family convinced that I am safely within the walls of Lumanen. If I could talk to my father or my brother—I have to think about this. I can’t just leave.”
“If you’re afraid of the Lestra, I could help you,” he said, pressing her a little. “I could hide you in Neft and help you get clear of the city.”
“And take me all the way back to my family?” she asked skeptically.
“Yes. I would do that.”
“No, you wouldn’t, because
if Torrin saw you riding up with me by your side—oh, you don’t know what kind of trouble that would cause! Justin, I have to think about this. I am appalled by everything you’ve said but I—I have to understand it before I decide what to do next. I have to think about everything.”
“Think about it,” he said. “And come see me tomorrow.”
To his great disappointment, she drew herself clear of his arms and came to her feet. He stood beside her, thinking, as always, how small she was next to him. “I’m not sure I can,” she said. “Come to you tomorrow, I mean. There are five of us, and we’ll be together the entire time. I don’t see that I’ll be able to get free.”
“Tomorrow night then? Here?”
She gazed at him, her expression uncertain. “I probably shouldn’t.”
“Why? Why not?”
She hesitated and then gave a candid answer. “I think maybe you’ve upset me too much. I think maybe I’m too confused to see you again so soon.”
He felt a sudden gust of something that felt like panic, though it seemed a strange time to experience a battlefield emotion. “But I have so little time to see you,” he said. “Only the minutes you can steal during the few days you’re in Neft. I hate to lose any chances to talk to you. I’m sorry I said the things I did—even though they’re true and I think you should know them. Don’t stay away from me.”
She stood undecided in the dark. “We’ll see,” she said at last, and put a hand on the gate.
He grabbed one of the wrought-iron rods to keep the gate from opening. “I’ll come by,” he said. “Tomorrow night. I’ll be here. If you want to talk.”
“Maybe,” she said. She pushed on the gate again and he reluctantly released his hold, allowing it to swing open. Ellynor made as though to step through, paused, and turned back to him. Reaching up with one hand, she drew his head down, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “It was good to see you, Justin.”
And then, before he could move or speak or respond in any way, she gathered her skirts and flew back to the house. Almost immediately, she disappeared from view. He watched the windows for ten minutes, for thirty, but she did not appear at any of them to wave goodnight. With a heavy heart—that bounded with unexpected lightness every time he remembered that kiss—he headed home.
THE workday was long and full of minor frustrations. Delz was in a foul mood and shoveled manure as venomously as if it had offered him a personal affront. An irate traveler claimed that he had already paid for his horse’s accommodations upon arrival and refused to pay again as he left. A mare in the back stall had nicked herself badly with her own clumsy hoof, so Justin prepared a poultice and kept her leg wrapped most of the day. They were busy enough that he missed lunch and devoured his dinner.
He was tired enough that he climbed to his third-floor bedroom and fell instantly asleep.
Near midnight, he came awake suddenly and completely. From Tayse he had learned the ability to wake when he wanted, prepared to take the night watch. He dressed in the dark, crept downstairs and outside, and moved silently through the streets to the Gisseltess house.
Where he waited for two hours alone.
Ellynor did not come down to join him. She did not appear at any of the windows and wave. If she watched him from the shadows of the house, she stood back far enough that he could see no flicker of movement, no flash of white. If she was awake and thinking of him, she gave no sign.
After the second hour passed, Justin pushed himself to his feet and made his way slowly back to the boardinghouse. His thoughts were chaotic, but the line of his mouth was hard. He had never been the sort of man who gave up easily. Now would not be the time he began.
CHAPTER 15
IN the morning, Justin was at the stables ahead of Delz, forking down the hay, watering the horses, and cleaning out the stalls. “Got somewhere to be for a little bit this afternoon,” he told the stablemaster when Delz commented on his industriousness. “I’m going to be gone a couple hours. Thought I’d get a little ahead on the work.”
“Fine,” Delz said with a shrug. “But you’ll be back for the evening shift?”
“I will.”
After eating a quick lunch, Justin washed his hands again, changed into a fresh shirt, and set out looking for evangelists in the streets of Neft.
It took him nearly thirty minutes to track down the Daughters. He’d thought they’d be near the crossroads where most of the shops were congregated and where the majority of traffic passed through, both on foot and by horse. But that part of town, though clogged with carts and pedestrians, held no cluster of smiling young women clad in white robes and sparkling moonstones. No, and no escort of silent men, wearing black-and-silver livery and watching every stranger who passed by, trying to guess his secrets.
He found them, eventually, at the west edge of town, not far from a small shrine set up to honor the Pale Mother. They had positioned themselves on the edge of the main road that led into Neft from the southwestern parts; anyone bent on traveling into the city from Rappengrass or Fortunalt was bound to pass this way. Justin loitered behind one of the scattered buildings found this far from the city center, trying to get a sense of how successful their day had been so far. While he watched, most of the open carts and gigs that came through pulled to a halt. The drivers, with every appearance of satisfaction, accepted the novices’ prayers and blessings. Two closed carriages bowled on past without stopping; one of them was allowed to go unmolested, but the other one was immediately followed by two of the Lestra’s guards. Justin watched them go, wondering what would happen next. A confrontation here in the middle of Neft? Surely not. More likely the guards would ride behind the carriage till it cleared the city, and possibly make some kind of move once they were past the crowded streets. Or they might mark where the carriage came to a halt inside the city limits, and note which house entertained guests who were not eager to take the blessing of the Daughters.
Even once those soldiers had vanished in pursuit, there were still seven convent guards stationed on both sides of the road near the novices.
Justin slipped from his hiding place, headed back toward the middle of the city, then left Neft by a northern route. After making a wide loop, he came out on the main road and began a steady walk eastward toward town. A couple of carts passed him, and he waved when the drivers seemed friendly. A group of horsemen clattered by, clearly in a hurry. Two riders came the other way, leaving the city. He was close enough now to notice that they paused, bent their heads, and held out their hands to receive the benediction of the goddess.
In a few minutes, he was strolling straight toward the sacred roadblock, five girls strung across the road with their hands lifted and their faces serene. A cart rolled up behind him just as he arrived, so there was a little flurry of motion, horses whickering, voices calling, the sound of wheels grinding to a halt. White robes fluttered as the girls circled and murmured among themselves. Who would approach the cart, who would see to the man on foot?
Justin put his hands in his back pockets and a bumpkin’s grin on his face, and beamed at the assembled company. His eyes were making quick appraisals. There was Ellynor, staring at him in something like fear; there were four other girls of various ages and sizes. One of them looked enough like her to be her cousin Rosurie. Just beyond them was the ring of convent guards, watchful, ready, unsmiling.
A tall girl about Ellynor’s age was giving directions. “Rosurie, there’s another cart coming! You and Lia talk to them. Semmie, help me with this one. Ellynor, can you talk to that man who just walked up?”
“I’d sure like the blessing of the goddess today,” Justin said in a hearty voice.
Ellynor made no move in his direction, so the other woman gave her a slight nudge. “Hurry! I see another carriage down the road. I never thought we’d be this busy.” And she and a very young girl approached the open gig, their hands upraised, moonstones dangling from their wrists. “The blessing of the Pale Mother upon you this afternoon!”