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Authors: Sharon Shinn

Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses) (52 page)

BOOK: Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses)
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“The others assure me that you’re just fine, but you’ve been so quiet,” she said in a low voice. “I find myself wondering if you were subjected to torture and just haven’t wanted to say so. Kirra can cure most hurts, you know, if you’re hiding wounds beneath your vest.”
That did make him smile, just a little. “No. A wound to my pride, perhaps, that I let myself be ambushed. But the Lestra offered me no torture, only her views on the world and a chance at salvation.”
“And some strictures about the dangers of consorting with mystics.”
He was able to smile. “Ah. I was already aware of those.”
“Justin was so afraid for you,” she said. “He actually let me comfort him. I think I would have felt I had betrayed him even more than I had betrayed you if we had not been able to free you.”
The smile was easier this time. “With the result that he has now transferred his allegiance to you.”
“Oh no,” she said. “You will always be his hero. It’s just that he doesn’t quite despise me now. Which makes for a pleasant change.”
He couldn’t exactly dispute that, so he introduced a new subject. “How’s your head?” he asked. “After your conjuring of fire this morning.”
She smiled. “Very well, thank you. I think it is not the fire so much as the fury that puts me in such pain. I knew I had to stay very, very calm, or I would lose control of the raelynx—and I wouldn’t be able to face down Coralinda. And I was able to manage it. Though, I don’t know—all the horror may come rushing in on me tomorrow, and I’ll be paralyzed with pain.”
“Well,” he said. “Let me know. I will do what I can to ease it.”
“It eases me just to know you are among us again and safe,” she said quietly. “I was sure—I thought—it seemed she would not have the nerve to harm you, and yet—”
“I knew you would come for me,” he said. “I was not afraid.”
She came a step closer, close enough that her knees almost brushed his. While he remained perched on the tree stump, their heads were at almost exactly the same height; he could look straight into her gray eyes. As always, her face was guarded and serene, but the expression in her eyes was neither.
Her next words were unexpected. “Does nothing ever break you?” she asked in a soft voice.
His breath caught. “Why should I break?”
A slight shrug. “Capture—threat of death—daring rescue. But you’re not moved to any emotion. Not fear, not fawning gratitude.”
“I was not afraid, and I am indeed grateful,” he said. The cadence of his voice sounded formal, even to him; that was the result of holding great emotion in check. “I don’t know how it is you want me to present myself.”
She put her bare hands on either side of his face, silencing him completely. Her skin was so warm it was as if summer had come to visit him, rich with fertile possibilities. He felt heat skim through his bones to every extremity of his body. He sat utterly still.
“Maybe I expect too much of you,” she said, her voice almost a murmur, directed, perhaps, at herself and not him. “Maybe you are, after all, a King’s Rider and nothing more, with room for no one else in your heart. Not friend, not lover. Or maybe it is only me you have barred your heart against. Maybe it is only me you do not trust.”
“I trusted you to save me,” he said. It was hard to speak the words.
“I suppose that’s something,” she said, and leaned in and kissed him.
Shock went through him like a poison-tipped arrow. Her hands pressed against his cheekbones, her lips pressed against his mouth, and heat raged through him and flushed his whole body. He moved all at once, his arms sweeping her against his chest as he rose to his feet. He held her crushed against him, her feet dangling off the ground, her body a part of his, his mouth devouring hers. He felt broken open then, as if a finely honed axe had split him like kindling, cleft him right in half. He felt the ache down the middle of his chest, a pressure so intense that even holding Senneth more tightly could not assuage the pain.
He set her on the ground and dropped his arms and stared down at her, his face entirely somber.
She stared back up at him. Her eyes had gone so dark they looked like ash-flecked coals at the edge of a fading fire. Her mouth was reddened by his rough treatment, but even that did not give her a look of uncertainty or discomposure. Nothing at all was to be read in the smooth contours of her face.
“And I still don’t know,” she said. She watched him another moment, then she shook her head. “And neither do you.”
And turning on her heel, she headed back for the camp without another word.
She was wrong, of course. He knew; he just did not want to know. He sat back on the tree stump and waited till the pounding of his heart slowed, till the flush receded from his face and body. He waited till Cammon came looking for him with the news that the meal was ready.
“All right,” Tayse said, standing up. He thought his voice sounded normal. But Cammon looked at him curiously and then glanced away, as if he’d accidentally peered into a lady’s diary or a man’s bedroom. Tayse felt a crooked smile cross his face, and he shook his head. “Do you think it gets worse than this?” he found himself asking.
Cammon glanced back at him, his expression full of both hope and rue. “I don’t know much about it,” he said, “but I think so.”
Tayse nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
 
 
THE next two days were exactly the same, down to the wistful conversations about clean sheets and warm baths, except for the kiss. That didn’t occur again. Tayse went off alone each night to fetch water or fuel, but Senneth didn’t come after him. No one did.
She seemed completely unchanged, day after day, laughing and talking with her usual ease to the others, even to him. She did not stir in the middle of the night during the hours when Tayse took the watch, and sit up on her bedroll, and survey him. She neither looked for opportunities to talk to him nor avoided him if the motion of the party brought her horse alongside his. She was completely herself.
So he must seem to her, he thought. The day after the rescue, he had just naturally resumed command from Justin, giving directions for the day, checking on the status of everyone’s health and strength. He had never been particularly talkative, so he did not suddenly start babbling to everyone in his party, but he made some effort not to appear unduly taciturn, either. In the evenings, he fenced with Justin or proceeded with training Cammon and Donnal. Senneth declined to participate—but then, that was not unprecedented, either. Nothing was different.
Everything was different.
The evening of the second day of travel, Senneth and Kirra sat by the fire while the others battled, arguing over the best way to approach Halchon Gisseltess.
“I don’t want to go to Gissel Plain,” Senneth said, for what Tayse was sure was the third or fourth time. “He could sweep us up so fast we wouldn’t even know we’d been captured till we were rolled into the dungeons.”
“He’s not going to imprison us—not when he knows you come on a mission for the king.”
“He doesn’t like me,” Senneth said gloomily. “And he’ll like me even less once he hears about how I bested his sister. He’s just the sort of man who would throw us into a dark cell first, and then later start thinking about the consequences.”
“I can’t believe this,” Kirra said. “You’re afraid of him. You’re not afraid of anybody.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” Senneth said instantly, but her voice lacked conviction.
Kirra shrugged. “We don’t have to go to Gisseltess at all. We can turn around right now and head back for Ghosenhall.”
Senneth sighed. “Yes. We could. But I don’t think we should. So I guess what we need is an alternative to Gissel Plain.”
“Lochau is right on the coast,” Kirra suggested. “He’s there fairly often, because it’s a port, and he runs a lot of shipping businesses. It’s a big enough city that it offers some amenities—and there would be lots of places for us to run and hide if you really think we’re going to be in danger. Maybe he’d meet us in Lochau. It’s only a day’s ride from Gissel Plain.”
Senneth tilted her head to one side. “That’s a good idea,” she approved. “And maybe we could book passage out on a commercial ship. Get back to Ghosenhall faster.”
Kirra grinned. “Probably Danalustrous ships in port even as we speak. They’d be only too willing to take me wherever I asked to go.”
“Good. Then we’ll send a message to Halchon and ask him to meet us in Lochau in a few days.”
Kirra grimaced. “And I suppose you want me to take this message to Gissel Plain. I can take hawk shape and fly there and back in—I don’t know—a couple days.”
“I’d rather have Donnal go,” Senneth said slowly. “Halchon knows you, and if something went amiss—if someone spotted you in Gissel Plain—well, that’s even worse than all of us getting locked in dungeons.”
“You have a most morbid attitude about Gissel Plain and its dungeons,” Kirra exclaimed. “I’ve never even
heard
of any dungeons there! Let alone anyone being locked in one.”
“My morbid fears just reflect my attitude about Halchon Gisseltess,” Senneth said in a moody voice. “I think he’s capable of—anything.”
“All right. So we send Donnal tomorrow or the next day. And let’s say Halchon agrees to meet us in Lochau. And then?”
“And then—well, I guess, then we’ll see.”
 
 
IN the morning, they were back on the road. They were far enough south now that Tayse could feel the difference in the air: lighter, sweeter, noticeably warmer. If they stayed here any length of time, they would get the first pastel glimpse of spring long before it deigned to show its pretty face in Ghosenhall and other northern regions. Almost, Tayse thought, the incentive was enough. It had seemed like a very long winter.
They were still on secondary roads, but traffic was heavier than he would have expected. Then again, Gisseltess was a powerful and prosperous province; it enjoyed a healthy level of trade. Donnal had continued to rove ahead of them, taking various animal shapes, and Tayse had to trust him to be an advance scout. He didn’t feel any of them were safe separated by more than a few horse lengths, and he and Justin had both stayed with the group these past few days.
Twice they saw Gisseltess soldiers, once riding into the region, once riding out, but neither time did their own small party occasion any particular interest. More frequently they passed small merchant caravans or farmers driving loaded wagons; now and then they encountered trappers with a season’s worth of furs strapped to their backs. Tayse always hoped Donnal was wise enough to stay out of sight of such hunters—or to take a less appealing form if he caught their eyes.
They had determined they would send Donnal out that afternoon. Tayse was not wild about the idea; he was starting to think this group needed every soldier it had, and Donnal could be formidable in certain forms. Still, Kirra could as easily serve as advance guard, and obviously someone would have to be dispatched to send the message. Like Kirra, Tayse was half inclined to say,
Let us head back to Ghosenhall without making this swing through Gisseltess. We know already what we need to know.
But once they were back in Ghosenhall, Tayse would rejoin the Riders, and Senneth would resume her wandering, and he would never see her again. So they might as well ride into Gisseltess and extend the journey by another five days, or another ten. He would offer no resistance.
They stopped around noon to take a break for food. “I am so very tired of sitting in the saddle,” Senneth complained when she dismounted, putting her hands on her hips and stretching backward. “Have I become bowlegged? I know I look weather-beaten and scruffy, and I am resigned to that, but I just can’t stand it if I’m bowlegged.”
“Riders are all bowlegged,” Justin informed her, taking an exaggerated stance that showed his legs irredeemably malformed. “You can come back to Ghosenhall and be one of us.”
“A King’s Rider! Can that really be the next step in my career?” Senneth said. “I know you do have some women in your ranks—but not many, I’d guess.”
“Half a dozen,” Justin said. “But they’re very, very good.”
“Are you implying—”
He grinned. “You’d have to practice a little more on the road. Your strength is impressive, but your skills aren’t as ferocious as they might be. You’re willing to rely on other abilities,” he ended up, his smile broadening.
“Yes, well, I might rely on other abilities to turn you into a torch,” she said grumpily. “Tayse! I saw a glint of water down that way, not more than a quarter mile from here. I’m going to refill my water bottle.”
“Take Donnal with you,” he said.
She smiled very sweetly. “And I might wash some of the travel grime from my body,” she said. “I think I’d rather make the trek alone.”
He wanted to repeat his order, but it was hard for him to tell these days how much of his fear for her safety was real and how much was just heightened awareness of her existence. “We move out in thirty minutes,” he said. “Make it fast.”
Senneth sent a questioning glance at Kirra, who waved a languid hand. “I just want to be still for a moment,” the other woman said. “I’ll bathe—sometime. In Lochau.”
BOOK: Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses)
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