The Raven Ring

  Eleret nodded without comprehension, and let the conversation flow on without her. The meal ended at last, and the Vallaniris withdrew from the eating room, leaving the servers to clear things up. Eleret trailed after Daner’s sisters and his cousin and his aunt, wishing she could slip quietly away and escape to her room. But even if she had been lost to all sense of her obligations to her hosts, she could not have done it; Daner and his parents were right behind her.

  Baroja led them back to the long cluttered hall where they had met before dinner. A servant stood at the far end, waiting patiently; when he saw Baroja, he came forward and whispered something to him.

  “Bring her in at once!” Baroja said.

  The servant bowed and crossed back to the stairwell door. Baroja smiled broadly at his relatives.

  “The best card-charter in Ciaron has arrived!” he announced. He turned and waved with perfect timing as the far door opened. “Mother, Aunt, Cousins, allow me to present Luck-seer Jonystra Nirandol.”

  THIRTEEN

  ELERET HAD TO FORCE her face to remain blank as Daner’s mother and sisters moved happily forward to greet Jonystra. How had the woman managed this? And why had she bothered? Unless she was a fool, she must know that Eleret would be on her guard. And not just Eleret; Daner, too, watched Jonystra with a face like stone.

  While Baroja beamed at his cousins, Eleret slipped across to Daner’s side. “Daner,” she said in a low voice, “get hold of yourself, or everyone will know something’s wrong.”

  “How did that creyuda get a line on Baroja?” Daner said in a savage undertone. “I don’t know whether to wring his neck or hers!”

  “Try it with either, and I’m gone. If you make a scene—”

  “Your aunt and your sisters will demand to know the reason,” Lord tir Vallaniri said from behind Eleret.

  Without thinking, Eleret spun, one hand on her dagger’s hilt. She took control of her reflexes in time to keep from drawing it and cursed herself mentally for an incompetent fool. Bad enough to lose track of someone, even if he was not an enemy, but to let herself be startled into such a strong response was inexcusable. “Exactly my point,” she said as calmly as she could.

  Lord tir Vallaniri raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ve been tempted to wring Baroja’s neck myself, now and again, but what is it about his companion that provokes such a response in you?”

  “That woman—the so-called Luck-seer Nirandol—followed us here,” Daner said. “How and why, I don’t know, and it would be for Eleret to say even if I did, but I don’t like it. Demons take Baroja for bringing her in!”

  Eleret was positive that Jonystra hadn’t actually followed them but then, she wouldn’t have needed to. Jonystra had heard Daner’s name at the inn; tracing a well-known nobleman could not have been hard. And she’d had most of the afternoon to arrange a way of getting inside the Vallaniri household. However she had done it, the result was what mattered.

  “Baroja has demonstrated a certain aptitude for innocently doing whatever will cause the greatest inconvenience to whomever he is with,” Lord tir Vallaniri said in a slow, thoughtful tone. “It’s practically the boy’s only talent; I’m pleased to see it hasn’t deserted him.”

  “Pleased?” Daner gave his father a skeptical look.

  “Everyone should be good at something.”

  “Teach him to sleep well.” Daner glanced toward Jonystra, then closed his eyes as if the sight hurt him. “Loren’s Curse, how are we going to get her to leave?”

  “Unless she does something extremely foolish, such as trying to stick a knife into Freelady Salven or kidnapping one of your sisters, you can’t,” Lord tir Vallaniri said. “Not without mortally offending Baroja and your aunt.”

  “I don’t think Jonystra’s a danger to you and yours,” Eleret told Daner. “I’m the one she’s after.” Though she still could not see what Jonystra hoped to accomplish. She might secure a few minutes alone with Eleret, but there wasn’t much she could do with them. Unless… “Daner, how likely is it that Jonystra knows some magic?”

  Daner looked startled. “What makes you think she might?”

  “You said at dinner that charting cards works best when a magician reinforces the spell. If she’s as good at it as Baroja claims—”

  “She probably isn’t any better than Metriss and her silly friends,” Daner said, frowning. “Baroja believes every seller’s speech he hears in the midtown market.”

  “But you can’t be sure.”

  “No.”

  Eleret shrugged. She had suspected as much, but it had been worth asking. She started to frame another question, then stopped. A wiry man of medium height had followed Jonystra quietly into the room, carrying a large black-and-red lacquered box with an ornate brass lock. Though he wore no visible weapon, he moved with the wary confidence of an experienced warrior. His thin sandy hair had been oiled flat; combined with a sharp jaw and a face that seemed all flat surfaces and sharp angles, it made his head look like a skull.

  “Now what?” Daner said under his breath.

  As if she had heard him from across the room, Jonystra glanced back and saw the new arrival. “Ah, Mobrellan!” she said, smiling graciously at the wiry, skull-faced man. “You have all that we shall need?”

  The man nodded.

  Jonystra turned to Baroja. “Then, my lord, will you say where we are to chart the cards?”

  “Where do you want them, Aunt?” Baroja asked Lady tir Vallaniri.

  “That depends. What will you require for your work, Luck-seer?” Lady tir Vallaniri said.

  “A small room, where we can be private, with a table, so”—Jonystra demonstrated the proper size with her hands—“and two chairs.”

  “Only two?” Lady Metriss said in tones of deep disappointment. “Can’t we watch each other’s cards?”

  “The influences are clearer if only one questioner is present at a time,” Jonystra replied. “If you wish for a true foreseeing, I must chart each of you separately. Afterward, you may discuss the results as much as you choose.”

  “Why don’t you let her use that little room two doors down?” Baroja said to Daner’s mother. “The one with all the books.”

  “No,” said Lord tir Vallaniri, raising his voice slightly to carry across to Baroja. “You may have talent, Nephew, but I am not compelled to allow you to exercise it.”

  Baroja looked over with a puzzled expression. “Thank you, Uncle. What talent did you mean?”

  “Never mind. Your Luck-seer can work in the wall chamber.”

  “But the other room—”

  “Is my study. No.”

  “Oh, very well. This way, Luck-seer Nirandol. How long will it take you and your porter to set up your things?” The closing door cut off Baroja’s voice, and Daner’s aunt and sisters sorted themselves into chairs to wait for his return. Lord tir Vallaniri escorted Eleret over to join them, then drew Daner aside for a brief conference.

  Eleret had no objection to being abandoned. She listened to the girls’ chatter with less than half her attention, while the rest of her mind reviewed her previous encounters with Jonystra, trying to see patterns in her actions and words. Clearly, the woman was intelligent, and she seemed to favor indirect methods. She was persistent, too; every time Eleret avoided her, she found a new way to approach her again. Her movements and her dress were not those of a fighter, but that might not mean much. Jonystra Nirandol had as many faces as a shapeshifter: traveling collector of ancient objects; hopeful, friendly dinner companion; well-born flirt; experienced card-charter and Luck-seer. Possibly she was a sneak thief or a wizard as well, though Eleret had no proof that it was Jonystra who had searched her room at the Broken Harp or that she could work magic.

  Better to be prepared for the rock that doesn’t fall than to be hit on the head by the one you didn’t expect. Her mother’s voice echoed through Eleret’s memory, its tone warm and chiding at the same time, patiently repeating the lesson that had since become an ingrained habit. E
leret choked. Go away, Ma, and let me concentrate, she thought, although she knew it was her memories that were the problem, not her mother. Tamm Salven’s body had been burned six weeks before; the greatest wizard born could not have raised her blank-eyed corpse from ashes, nor summoned her spirit after so long a lapse of time.

  The recollection steadied Eleret, and she forced her mind back to Jonystra. No matter how good a thief Jonystra was—if she were a thief—Eleret doubted that she could steal the raven ring from her finger or her money and other valuables from the inner pockets of her vest. Not without knocking Eleret unconscious first, at any rate, and to do that she would need both surprise and fighting skill. Or magic. Eleret frowned involuntarily, then shrugged. She couldn’t do anything about magic except be ready to dodge, assuming dodging would help. What you can’t counter, block; what you can’t block, avoid; what you can’t avoid, don’t fret yourself skinny over.

  Eleret shivered, wondering if the wine at dinner had been as weak as she’d assumed. Her mind did not normally play such unpleasant tricks. What had she been thinking of? Magic. Jonystra. What could she do if Jonystra really was a magician?

  An arrow kills a wizard as dead as anyone else. Least it does if you’re a halfway good shot. This time the remembered voice was a deep male growl, and Eleret almost smiled. She didn’t have her bow, but she had plenty of raven’s-feet and two well-balanced and finely honed knives. If it came to a fight, she could manage.

  “Thanks, Pa,” she whispered, then shook her head at her foolishness. Fortunately, Daner’s sisters were deeply involved in their discussion, and had not noticed.

  “But who’s going to be the first one charted?” Metriss asked as Eleret brought her attention back to the conversation.

  “I think we should let Freelady Salven go first,” Laurinel said. “She’s never had her cards charted before, and she’s a guest.”

  Lady tir Vallaniri nodded. “An excellent idea, my dear. Freelady—”

  “No, thank you,” Eleret said quickly. “I’d rather wait. Let someone else take the first turn.” She was tempted to refuse altogether, as Lady Kistran had earlier, but that would be cowardly. Besides, how else would she find out what Jonystra was planning?

  “Do the cards make you nervous?” Raqueva said, watching El?ret from under half-lowered eyelids as if she knew exactly what Eleret had been thinking. “Or do you lack belief in them?”

  “No,” Eleret said. “I’d just prefer to wait.” She shifted uneasily, hoping the spindly chair would not give way beneath her. It felt secure enough, and it didn’t creak or wobble, but the legs still didn’t look strong enough to stake spring peas.

  “Well, if you’re quite sure, Freelady, I think Laurinel had better be the first,” Lady tir Vallaniri said. “She is the eldest, after all. We can discuss the rest of the order while she is having her cards done.”

  Metriss scowled, but her mother’s tone forbade argument. When Baroja returned a moment later and announced that the Luck-seer was ready, Laurinel rose and went to meet him. Baroja smiled, offered her his hand, and escorted her out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, the remaining ladies returned to their debate on the order in which they should have their cards charted.

  Listening in silence to the polite bickering around her, Eleret concluded that the dispute was not really about cards. Lady tir Vallaniri kept her comments to a minimum, but Raqueva, Metriss, and Lady Kistran maneuvered for verbal advantage with the skill of long practice. Daner, who had finished his conversation with his father and come over to join them, seemed to find the procedure amusing. Several times, he dropped an innocent-sounding remark into the conversation that gave new energy to the flagging debate. Finally, Lady tir Vallaniri asked him pointedly when he wished to have his cards read. Daner laughed and disclaimed any desire for a chart, but from then on he made no more provocative comments.

  By the time Baroja and Laurinel returned, everything was settled. Raqueva and Metriss would take the next two turns, followed by Eleret, Lady tir Vallaniri, Daner, and Baroja.

  Lady Kistran continued to maintain that she did not wish to have her cards charted, however skilled the Luck-seer. Her determination was sorely tested when Laurinel reentered the room, her face radiant and her mouth full of praise for Jonystra’s skills.

  “She said that Domori—Lord Trantorino—will be home soon, and with great success,” Laurinel told them happily.

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Lady Kistran muttered, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

  “Oh, Aunt!” Raqueva rose and gave Laurinel a quick hug. “Don’t mind her, Lauri. And don’t forget anything; when I get back, you’re going to have to repeat everything you’ve told them.”

  Laurinel smiled, and Raqueva left with Baroja. Frowning slightly, Eleret gazed after them. Then she shook her head. Raqueva was a tangle she didn’t have time to comb straight. Best to concentrate on Jonystra and her cards, at least for the present.

  Fortunately, Metriss was eager to hear all the details of Laurinel’s experience, and she flung new questions at her sister almost before Laurinel had time to answer the old ones. Much of the story was obscure to Eleret, for she was unfamiliar with the cards and their meanings and no one stopped to explain them. She had to figure them out from the conversation. It didn’t help when Lady Kistran began arguing about the interpretation of Laurinel’s chart.

  “The Eight of Stones is for completion,” she said flatly. “It doesn’t always mean success. I think you’re too optimistic, Laurinel, as usual.”

  “But with the Lady of Shells supporting the Eight—” Metriss began.

  Kistran shook her head. “The Lady is one of the least powerful of the Ruling Cards in the suit of Shells. Now, if it had been the Sorceress of Shells, or the Lady of Flames…”

  “It’s not the power of the individual card that counts,” Laurinel objected. “It’s the way it relates to the rest of the cards in the chart.”

  “Look at the rest of your cards, then,” Kistran said with a small sniff. “Only one Major Trump in your whole chart, and that was Silence. And your Minors! The Mountain, Despair, and Taxes! That says it all, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “The Mountain is a good card,” Metriss said uncertainly. “At least, it can be.”

  “And Despair was reversed,” Laurinel added. “And Taxes was in the quarter of Past Opposition. You can’t pull bits and pieces out of a chart and expect to make any sense of them, Aunt.”

  “Or rather, you can make anything you like of them,” Daner put in. “All you have to do is pick the right bits and pieces. Or the wrong ones.”

  Laurinel gave Daner a look of gratitude. “Yes, that’s exactly what I was trying to say.”

  “Nonsense. If you want to get the most out of a chart, you must look at all the relationships,” Kistran said. “You must—”

  The door at the far end of the room opened, and Baroja and Raqueva came in. Metriss jumped to her feet at once. “It’s my turn now; let’s go, Baroja.”

  “There’s no need to rush,” Baroja said. He relinquished Raqueva’s hand and brushed at an invisible speck on his sleeve. “The Luck-seer has to clear the influences or something between each chart. At least, that’s what she said.”

  Daner frowned. “She did? Are you sure? Baroja, exactly what did she say?”

  “I told you,” Baroja said in an injured tone. “Something about clearing influences. It’s what took us so long.”

  “Baroja—”

  “If you really want to know, Daner, I’ll ask when I get there,” Metriss said. “Come on, Baroja.”

  Baroja bowed with a flourish and held out his hand. Smiling, Metriss took it and swept out of the room. Daner looked after them, still frowning. No one besides Eleret seemed to notice his reaction. Raqueva sat down and immediately asked Laurinel about her chart, giving Lady Kistran the chance to repeat her gloomy interpretations while Lady tir Vallaniri watched indulgently.

  The new conversation was
even more incomprehensible to Eleret than the previous one had been, though she noted that Raqueva chose not to describe her chart for her aunt to explain. Instead, Raqueva guided the discussion into the realm of theory, and the argument quickly became abstract. It reminded Eleret of the talk at Raken’s place on the rare quiet summer evenings: first would come a comment about a specific battle; next, a discussion of one commander’s tactics, which would develop into an analysis of the strategic decisions that had led to the battle, until finally the argument drifted into a theoretical discussion that ranged freely over wars and centuries, until the cook-fire dwindled to coals and starlight frosted the mountain peaks with silver. She wished Raken were with her now, in Ciaron. His good sense would be as useful as his combat skills.

  Eleret’s reflections were interrupted by the return of Baroja and Metriss. The girl wore a self-satisfied expression, and lost no time in explaining it. “I am going to be one of the Empress’s ladies, and marry a man of great influence and power!”

  “How impressive,” said Raqueva. “No wonder you look so pleased. Do you have any idea how long it will be before all this happens?”

  “Very soon,” Metriss said, her smile growing. “The Four of Flames was right next to my crown card.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything for the long run,” Lady Kistran said. “In fact, the Fours usually—”

  “A moment, Mother, if it please you,” Baroja broke in. “I do apologize for interrupting, but better now than when you’re in the midst of an explanation. Freelady Salven, you’re next, I think. If you will join me…?” He held out his hand in a graceful, demanding gesture.

  As Eleret rose to her feet, Daner stepped forward and bowed to Baroja. “No, no, Cousin, you’ve done your duty for the evening. Freelady Salven is my guest; I’ll escort her, and let you join the conversation here.”

  “Very proper,” Lady Kistran said, nodding. “Come and sit down, Baroja.”

  “You are too kind,” Baroja said to Daner. “Fair breezes turn your cards, Freelady.” He bowed again and crossed to his mother’s side.