Quatrain

  Everyone ate heartily, and, following the lead of the Lirren men, who praised the cooks lavishly, Albert and his relatives thanked Rinnae and Senneth profusely for their efforts. After the meal, the young men engaged in a series of wrestling matches and impromptu duels. Seever and Curtis managed to win about one out of every four contests, which seemed to please everyone, and in between bouts they paused to argue about technique. The older men seemed to ignore the younger ones, but Senneth saw that the Lirren elders always registered when their boys were victorious, and Albert wore a small smile whenever Curtis and Seever triumphed.

  It was near dusk, and the wistful colors of a winter sunset were threading their way through the mountains, when Senneth heard the Lirren leader pronounce, “We are agreed, then.”

  “We are agreed,” Albert replied.

  “We will return here in ten days,” the Lirren man said.

  “We will be waiting.”

  Almost faster than seemed possible, the Lirrenfolk packed up and broke camp. Rinnae gave Senneth a meaningful look as she nodded farewell, but there were no spoken good-byes as the Lirrenfolk mounted their horses and began weaving their way down the mountain. The Gillengaria men stared after them, a little bemused, as the others disappeared into the deepening dark.

  “I wouldn’t want to travel at night through this terrain,” Albert’s brother observed.

  “There are some Lirrenfolk who can actually see in the dark,” Senneth said. “They worship the goddess of night and they feel her protection most keenly once the sun has gone down. Don’t be concerned about them.”

  “Well, we’ll camp here tonight,” Albert said briskly, already turning back toward the fire.

  Senneth waved a casual hand at the drooping flames, to revive them against the gathering chill. “I take it you got the deal you wanted?”

  Albert laughed. “I suppose no one gets the deal he wants from a Lirren man, but we made an arrangement we both liked,” he said. “I must commend you on all your advice. It was clear he was pleased to see my family around me.”

  “He liked seeing his sons beat us in combat,” Curtis said a little despondently.

  Albert laughed again. “Maybe, but he didn’t finalize the deal until you won that last bout. I think he was looking for proof that we are not weak men.”

  “Strange, isn’t it?” Albert’s uncle said meditatively. “What we wanted from them was proof of the quality of their merchandise. Maybe they have the right of it. Learn the character of your potential partner, and that will tell you all you need to know about the goods he trades in.”

  They busied themselves preparing the camp for what was promising to be a frigid night, though Senneth’s presence obviously made that fact a very minor concern. She didn’t feel compelled to cook any more meals for the traveling party, so she fenced with Curtis while Albert and his brother put together cold rations. They all talked for a couple of hours before seeking their beds.

  Not until she was rolled up in her sleeping blanket, drowsily watching the razor-edged stars, did it occur to Senneth that she was happier tonight than she had been in the past two weeks. She didn’t think it was just the fact that she was on the eastern side of the Lireth Mountains, just barely over the border into the Lirrenlands. It was because she was outdoors, on the move, cut loose from formalized social obligations. It was because she knew she would be traveling again tomorrow, and on her way again as soon as she could politely leave Benneld behind.

  Rinnae was wrong. Senneth didn’t need family. She scarcely needed friends. She needed only motion, and the occasional kiss of magic, and she was content.

  Five

  They were back in Benneld a day and a half later, having struggled through a snowfall on the western slopes of the mountains. Albert’s relatives continued on, waving good-bye and calling out promises, but Senneth and Albert went directly to the Cordwain house.

  “Don’t you look bedraggled,” Betony greeted them at the door. “I’ll order hot baths at once for both of you! Was your trip successful?”

  “Very,” Albert said. “I hope Senneth comes back to advise me the next time I try to negotiate with a Lirren clan.”

  She shook her head. “I think I’ve already given you all the guidance I can.”

  Betony turned to her with a smile. “Senneth, your new dress is ready! Come try it on. I have planned a dinner for the day after tomorrow, so if it doesn’t quite fit, there will be plenty of time to alter it.”

  The day after tomorrow, Senneth thought. That means the day after that I can leave.

  The new dress was a deep green Senneth liked a great deal, though it was a little too frilly for her taste, with ribbons and lace accentuating the collar and the waist. She had insisted that the neckline be much higher than Betony wanted, with the result that it covered up even the simple gold necklace that she always wore.

  “Very elegant,” Betony said. “If a little prudish.”

  Senneth laughed. “But then, I am the demure and retiring type.”

  Betony inspected her for a moment. “For some reason, I don’t believe that,” she said. “I have the feeling you could cause no end of turmoil and chaos if you wanted to. You could bring the entire village down with one sweep of your hand.”

  It was odd to have someone look at her and say such a thing. “I could, I suppose,” Senneth said. “But I have never been moved to practice destruction.”

  “I wonder what it would take to push you to it,” Betony said.

  Senneth laughed uncomfortably. “Let us hope neither of us ever finds out!”

  Dinner was quiet and bedtime was early. Senneth was restless from the minute she got out of bed the next morning. Restless enough that she was even happy to see Degarde when he came calling before the sun had risen very high.

  “We saw your group return yesterday afternoon,” he told her. “Are you refreshed enough to go riding this morning? I’ll understand if you’re not.”

  “I find it much more tiring to sit around doing nothing,” she assured him. “Let me just call for my horse.”

  A few minutes later they were following a rather overgrown trail that led in a southwesterly direction away from the Cordwain house. It was wide enough to ride side by side, though barely, and they had to keep the horses to a walk to avoid any hazards that might be covered by fallen leaves and lingering snow.

  “How was your visit with the Lirrenfolk?” he asked.

  “Successful, Albert tells me. I didn’t participate in the negotiations. Did anything exciting occur in town while we were gone?”

  “No, nothing. Even Halie failed to provide excitement, because she was sick in bed the whole time. So she couldn’t knock things over or try to put clothing on the dogs or disappear from the estate so completely that every soul on the property had to search for her for hours, terrified of finding her dead in the forest.”

  “That was a stroke of luck,” Senneth said. “Though I suppose you and Julia will come down with the ailment next, and no one will be well enough to contain her.”

  “Thank you for that thought,” he said. “It makes me look forward to the rest of the week.”

  Senneth enjoyed that part of the conversation, but soon enough he was asking her searching questions that she didn’t feel like answering. What part of the country had she grown up in? Had she any family at all? What were her plans once she left Benneld? Couldn’t she stay just a little longer—another week, perhaps? Would she be traveling back toward Kianlever anytime in the near future?

  “If I wanted to get in touch with you sometime,” he finished, “how would I do it?”

  She smiled, but she felt uncomfortable. Why would Degarde want to get in touch with her? More to the point, why would she want to hear from him? “I am usually back in Ghosenhall at least a couple of times a year,” she said. “People who want to reach me can leave a message at the palace.”

  “I should feel awe that I am speaking to someone who is on such terms of intimacy with the king,” he sai
d in his intense way. “And yet, all I can think is, ‘Of course Baryn values Senneth! She is so amazing that he would be a fool not to appreciate her talents.’”

  “It is I who feel gratitude that he allows me to serve him,” she said quietly. “He is an excellent king and a good man. It is a privilege to be among those he trusts.”

  They rode for about an hour, the exercise restoring Senneth to her good mood—which was helped along immeasurably by the appearance of an energetic sun that chased away much of the chill. “Let’s go on into town and get something to eat,” Degarde suggested just as they came within view of the Cordwain house, and Senneth was feeling cheerful enough, and hungry enough, to agree.

  Practically everyone who lived within a five-mile radius of Benneld must have had the same thought, for the streets were crowded with carts, horses, pedestrians, and vendors. They left their own horses at the overflowing stables and promenaded down the main road like everyone else. Degarde introduced Senneth to a handful of people, some of whom she recognized as witnesses to the hillside fire a few days ago. None of them seemed delighted to see her again, though they were civil enough. Eric, the boy who had held their horses, waved at her when she passed, then leaned over to whisper something to a friend. Senneth spotted Julia and Halie inside the dressmaker’s shop, Halie with her little face pressed against the window. Even Betony had come to town to pick up supplies, and she laughed as she came across Senneth and Degarde sauntering by.

  “If I’d known you were coming here, I’d have asked you to run some errands for me,” Betony said.

  “I’d be happy to carry home flour and cheese and anything else you might need,” Senneth replied.

  “No, I think the kitchen is stocked, but I wanted new linens for the table and—Oh, Senneth, your dress won’t be ready till tomorrow! I had hoped to bring that back home this morning.”

  “I can come fetch it tomorrow,” Senneth said. “It’s not like it’s a taxing ride into town.”

  “Yes, but no matter how careful you are, it is sure to get wrinkled, and it will take some time to iron it out—and I do hope the alterations are perfect, for, you know—”

  Before Betony could specify any other problems, she was silenced by a piercing cry from down the street, followed quickly by a low rumble of shouts and questions. Senneth spun around to find the uproar occurring before the confectioner’s shop, where a short potted tree was topped with a merry halo of fire. Townspeople had quickly mobilized to put it out, and two boys were already running up with buckets of water sloshing in their hands.

  “Bright Mother brand me,” Senneth muttered. Next to her, Betony exclaimed, “Another fire? Why is everything burning?”

  Degarde was hovering at Senneth’s elbow. “Can you put it out from here? Shall we get closer?”

  “They seem to have it well in hand,” Senneth said, not stirring a step. Indeed, the first bucket of water seemed to have doused the flames completely, but two more were tossed on for good measure. Even from the distance of a hundred feet, she could see the townspeople gesture excitedly; one or two of them started scanning the crowd as if looking for someone.

  Looking for her. Looking for the mystic.

  The woman who set things on fire.

  “I think we’d better go home,” Senneth said quietly.

  But before she could move, there was another shriek, another spurt of flame. This one poked through the bare branches of a decorative shrub planted in front of one of the taverns, which was right next door to the bakery. The fourth bucket was hastily emptied onto the new eruption, and someone had the presence of mind to send more boys off to draw more water.

  Which was fortunate, because another shrub caught fire, and then another one, and a stack of boxes outside the dressmaker’s shop was suddenly wreathed in flame. The cries of fear became louder; women grabbed their bundles and their children and began fleeing toward the edges of town.

  A wagon wheel on a stationary cart was suddenly rimmed with fire.

  A bird’s nest in a high gutter went up in a swift colorful burst.

  A crumpled jacket on the street. Another potted plant. A flag flying outside a storefront. One after the other, brilliant with flame.

  “Senneth,” Betony said urgently. “Can’t you do something?”

  Degarde was regarding her with something like horror. “Senneth,” he said. “You aren’t—this isn’t your work, is it?”

  “Not mine,” she said shortly, furious but unsurprised that he even asked, “but it is almost certainly enchanted fire.”

  Others had come to the same conclusion. More and more townspeople had searched the crowds, trying to locate Senneth, and someone cried out, “There she is!” In the way of mobs, there was a convulsive general movement in her direction and a low, angry muttering that was growing louder by the minute.

  “Senneth,” Betony said, “we had better get you home.”

  But Degarde’s hand was suddenly around her left wrist. On his face was a curious expression of fear, uncertainty, and uneasy determination. “Perhaps she should wait and answer the questions of our friends.”

  “Degarde!” Betony said sharply. “How could you for one moment entertain the idea—”

  “I don’t think she has done anything—but I don’t know. How can either of us be sure?” he said. “We scarcely know her. I think it is fair that we ask her some questions and listen to her answers.”

  Senneth couldn’t decide which was funnier—the notion that, two hours ago, Degarde was displaying all the symptoms of a smitten suitor, or the fact that he actually thought he could restrain her by merely holding on to her arm. It didn’t seem to occur to him that a woman who commanded fire could turn him into a walking inferno.

  “Release me,” she said to him in a quiet voice. The other townspeople were only a couple of yards away; there wasn’t much time. “I will not run, but I can at least put out the fires that are raging now.”

  He kept his hold. “Even if they are not your own?” he said.

  She was too annoyed to answer. Without bothering to argue, she lifted her right hand and made one comprehensive pivot, so that Degarde’s arm ended up wrapped around her waist. She felt power flow from her fingertips with a cool and weighted presence. It was as if she covered the entire town with a heavy blanket that suffocated all the existing fires and laid a compound over the rest of the ready fuel that would make it refuse to burn.

  “That should hold for a few hours at least,” she said to Betony, twisting back around so that she could disentangle from Degarde as much as possible.

  The crowd was upon them now, maybe twenty or thirty people, mostly men, all of them shouting. Senneth had to fight down the urge to push them back with a sudden pulse of heat.

  “What have you done, mystic?” the nearest one shouted. He was tall and heavy-boned, and his face was red with rage. Senneth remembered that Degarde had introduced him as Baxter. “Are you trying to burn down our town?”

  “I’ll get Albert!” Betony called, picking up her skirts and racing away.

  “I have done nothing,” Senneth replied coolly, but her words were lost in the growing rumble.

  “Mystic!” dozens of voices cried.

  “Burn her!”

  “Stone her!”

  “Kill her!”

  “I have done nothing to any of you!” Senneth shouted, trying to pitch her voice above the angry roar. “This is not my magic!”

  “Mystic!” the crowd answered back. “Stone her!”

  She saw a few shapes bend and straighten, as if several men had picked up rocks from the street. Something hit her on the right shoulder, and she whipped her head around to see if she could spot who had thrown the missile.

  Unexpectedly, Degarde jerked her closer to him and put his free arm around her shoulder. “Let her speak!” he shouted to the crowd, trying to protect her with his own body when more rocks came flying in. “Let her answer! Do not condemn her without a hearing!”

  Baxter grabbed a
fold of Senneth’s shirt and growled, “Speak, then!” into her face.

  “This is not my magic,” she said again, her voice loud and calm. “But you’re right—you are dealing with sorcerous flames. Someone in this town is a mystic and playing with fire.”

  “You’re the only mystic who’s come through Benneld!” cried a voice from the back of the mob.

  “I’m the only one you know of,” she called back. “But there is someone among you who is trying out his power.”

  Now the muttering changed in tone, and for a moment, neighbors looked at each other with suspicion. Then the big man shoved his red face toward Senneth again.

  “Liar,” he snarled. “Just like a mystic, trying to start trouble, trying to turn friends against each other.”

  “Run her out of town!” someone yelled, but other voices called for more extreme measures. “Stone her! Kill her! Kill the mystic!”

  Degarde held her even more tightly. “No!” he cried. “You will not harm her! Not without proof!”

  “She’s a mystic—what more proof do you need?” a woman shrilled out, but a few other voices were raised in favor of a more temperate approach.

  Baxter now thrust his face at Degarde. “What kind of proof? We’ve already seen what she can do with fire.”

  “We will hold her a few days,” Degarde said. His voice was steady, but Senneth, her back pressed against his chest, could feel the heavy pounding of his heart. “We will see if magical fire breaks out when she is not near enough to ignite it.”

  “I thought a mystic could fling fire from some distance away!” someone called out.

  “Yes—I believe so—but we will make sure she doesn’t have a chance,” Degarde said. Senneth had the sense he was improvising frantically. “We will—we will bind her with moonstones. We will rely on the Pale Mother to mute her power.”