Reader and Raelynx (39 page)

“Mayva—I’m astonished and humbled and proud,” Kirra said, leaning over to squeeze the marlady’s hand. “I don’t know that I could have been so clever or so fearless! How brave you were!”

“I didn’t feel brave,” Mayva said. “I felt afraid. I was sick to my stomach the whole time I was riding for help.”

“I know that feeling well,” Senneth said quietly. “But tell us the rest of the story. Your father could not recover from the effects of the poisoning?”

Mayva shook her head. She was trying very hard not to cry. “Of course he received no more silwort! But his body was too weak. I thought—if there had been a mystic nearby—perhaps magic would have saved him. But all the mystics have been chased out of Nocklyn by Coralinda Gisseltess—and my own husband. There was no one left to save my father. And he died.”

“Oh, Mayva, I am so sorry,” Kirra murmured.

Mayva’s chin came up. “So I am marlady now. And I must decide so many things. It is very hard, and I honestly don’t know that I can manage. But I knew I must support the princess in this war. If my husband was in favor of it, it must be wrong.” She shivered. “Besides, Coralinda Gisseltess tried to murder my cousin’s son.”

“No!” Kirra exclaimed. “Tell me what happened!”

“He’s just a little boy—but he’s a mystic, you know. He was staying with my aunt and uncle, and Coralinda sent her soldiers out to burn down the house. It was a miracle that he escaped—a miracle that some kind man found him on the road and took him to safety. My aunt and uncle are dead, of course.” She paused a moment to get her voice back under control. “Lowell told me the story wasn’t true—that my cousin had made it up to try to discredit the Lestra. Houses burn down all the time, he said, and it’s nobody’s fault. But I believe she did it. And if my husband defends Coralinda Gisseltess—well, then, I want to destroy her.” Impatiently she brushed at her cheeks. “So I have come to fight for Amalie.”

Kirra squeezed her hand again. “Mayva, we are so glad to have you.”

K
IRRA
flew back to carry the news to Amalie and her assembled advisors, but Senneth said she couldn’t stomach another wild flight clutched in Kirra’s talons. In truth, she wanted a break from violence and fire. “I’ll ride with Ariane for the rest of day, then gallop on ahead of the army tomorrow morning,” she told Kirra. “Look for me then.”

She still traveled among soldiers and could not escape the constant clank and sparkle of weaponry, but, compared to being in the thick of the fighting, the journey was peaceful. When they camped that night, a few of Ariane’s captains joined them for dinner, but Ariane dismissed them as soon as the meal was over.

“So who have you left behind at Rappen Manor to watch the House while you go to war?” Senneth asked. “Kiernan is leading the Brassenthwaite forces, but Nate and Harris are protecting the bloodlines by taking cover at Brassen Court.”

Ariane smiled briefly. “I wanted all five of my children to stay behind, but Darryn insisted on coming. I should not be surprised, I suppose, since he has flouted me at every turn for the past six months.”

Senneth tried not to laugh. “Well, he must be close to thirty by now. Naturally he will find himself disagreeing with his mother from time to time,” she responded. “And yet he seems like such an easygoing young man. I can hardly imagine him flying into rages and stalking out of the manor.”

Ariane gave a little snort. “No, he simply gives me his most pleasant smile, thanks me for my opinion, and goes off to do whatever he wants.”

Senneth asked cautiously, “Does that include falling in love with Sosie?”

Ariane frowned. “You’ve met her?”

“I did. I liked her a great deal. But then, I have low taste in companions, as everyone knows. Have
you
met her?”

“I’ve refused that honor. Consequently, Darryn will not ride with me, or even speak to me, though he’s traveling with the army.”

“I can’t actually say I blame Darryn.”

“Senneth, you must think me an impossible snob, but he cannot marry her! Not now! I have four other children, and they have all married well, and so perhaps, at some other time I could say, ‘Well, let him wed for love. The bloodlines will be carried on by Bella and the others.’ But not
now.
He should have pressed his suit in Ghosenhall! He should have been betrothed to Amalie! There would be no better match for the princess than Rappengrass! But he wouldn’t even try. He says he confessed to Amalie that he loves someone else! What woman of spirit would wed a man who told her such a thing? You know her. Would she be willing to overlook such a slight—if I could force him to abandon this unfortunate nameless girl?”

Senneth flung out a hand. “Ariane, Ariane! First, she’s
not
nameless, she’s Sosie. Second, I rather think you would like her. She’s resourceful and loyal and unpretentious, and she truly loves your son. Third—it doesn’t matter if you coerce Darryn into making an offer for Amalie. I’m not sure she’d have him now. I’m not sure she’d have anyone. For
she
, my dear marlady, has gone your son one better. She has fallen in love with a wretched boy who has
no
family connections, nothing whatsoever to recommend him, except his magic—which is considerable. If you think
you
are at a loss, imagine how
I
feel, trying to guide this rebellious girl away from a disastrous relationship! And
I
can’t even point to myself as a good example! I have given up for now. We must win this war, or it doesn’t matter who Amalie loves. Afterward—well, we shall see. But if I were you, I would forgive Darryn and welcome Sosie and abandon all hope of an alliance with the throne.”

“Bright Mother burn me,” Ariane swore, and then started laughing. “What are we coming to, this little kingdom of ours? The marlords engage in civil war—the Thirteenth House vassals mutiny against the marlords—and young nobles fling aside their heritage to marry serfs and soldiers and serving girls. Are we all to be brought down, leveled at once? I tell you now, Senneth, I will not give up Rappen Manor. Not for anyone. They will have to pull it down around me, stone by stone.”

Senneth smiled with a little constraint. “I do think the world is changing,” she said. “Baryn was reluctantly in favor of reducing the power and influence of the marlords—giving away lands to some of the lesser lords and hoping that would help keep the peace. I have a certain respect for Kiernan, and Malcolm, and Heffel, and you—strong individuals who run prosperous and well-regulated households. But you know I am no aristocrat. I am not entirely in favor of power being concentrated in a few hands. Maybe if there were several dozen Houses, there would be less unrest, there would be less ambition, and there would not be war. Maybe. I don’t know. I do know that Brassenthwaite will never fall into my keeping—and I think that’s good. I wouldn’t know what to do with it if it were mine.”

“Well, I know what to do with Rappengrass,” Ariane grumbled, and then she sighed. “Perhaps you’re right about Darryn. I keep thinking, what if we ride to war and Darryn falls? What if my last words to him were cruel?

What if
I
die, and for the rest of his life what he remembers is that I could not forgive him? Tomorrow morning I will meet this—this—”

“Sosie.”

“This
Sosie.
I don’t know that I will be able to welcome her, but at least I will not be unkind.”

“Her nephew is a mystic,” Senneth said in an innocent voice.

Ariane glared at her. “And I will
still
strive to be kind.”

Senneth laughed. “Oh, Ariane, you have such force of will. I am sure you will manage.”

I
T
was not long after dawn the next morning before the armies were once more on the move. At this rate, Senneth estimated the Nocklyn and Rappengrass forces should be joining the royal soldiers within a day. Romar and Kiernan, she assumed, were already planning how to utilize them to take maximum advantage of the added numbers.

She knew she should hurry back to the battlefield and add her own particular arsenal to the fight against Gisseltess and Fortunalt, but she lingered long enough to observe Ariane make her first overtures to her son. Darryn always wore such an amiable expression; it was hard to tell if he was truly moved by his mother’s sudden concession, and yet Senneth had to assume he was. She watched as he introduced Sosie with every evidence of pride, watched as Sosie tried hard to hide her nervousness and make no clumsy mistakes. Ariane’s expression remained a little stiff, her gestures formal, but Senneth was confident the thaw would soon be complete.

She told Sosie as much once Ariane had taken Darryn away to consult with her captains. “She can be frightening, and she can be fierce, but she would do anything for her children,” Senneth said. “She’ll come around. She can’t stand to be estranged from Darryn.”

“I don’t think I breathed once the whole time she was talking to me,” Sosie said. Indeed, she still sounded like she was gasping for air. “Darryn is so different from her!”

Senneth laughed. “Darryn is certainly less imposing, but Ariane is one of the people I trust most,” Senneth said. “I would choose her over my brothers any day. Be good to Darryn and she will be good to you. And when someone like Ariane Rappengrass is on your side, well, life becomes a little easier.”

Sosie looked doubtful and changed the subject. “Senneth, you remember I introduced you to a mystic named Lara when you were in Carrebos?”

“Yes. She was very strange.”

“She
is
strange, but she’s traveling with us, and I think you’ll be glad. She has amazing healing powers, and I have to guess that many soldiers are being wounded in this war.”

“Hundreds,” Senneth said. “We will be profoundly grateful for her services. I’d be happy to have her ride with me, but I’m about to head out right now.”

Sosie glanced around, smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know where she is. She might already have ridden for your camp. But if I see her again, I’ll tell her that you need her as soon as she can arrive.”

Senneth nodded and swung back onto her borrowed mount. “Then I will look for her, and I will look for you as well. I know it is a war—but—try to stay safe.”

Sosie waved good-bye as Senneth pulled the horse around. “You, too.”

Senneth grinned. “And good luck with Ariane.” She waved, clucked to the horse, and took off at a steady gallop.

The day was fair, a little chilly, but spring had definitely arrived in this rocky, undulating land that led straight toward the foothills of the Lireth Mountains. As if overnight, the brown winter grass had put on a green coat; the early bushes had already flowered and lost their petals, while the late ones were sprinkled with color. Patches of wildflowers waved their bright heads in the cool air, turning their faces toward the sun. Even the hard earth had softened up. Her horse’s hooves scarcely jarred against the packed ground as they raced along. It was so easy to imagine the frenetic life unfolding just under the topsoil—the busy insects working through clumped dirt, the sleepy moles nosing through their clever tunnels, the clenched roots of trees and bushes uncurling and stretching toward water.

Senneth almost laughed at herself, for she was not in the habit of thinking in such poetic terms. She thought perhaps the mystic Lara had ridden this way just an hour or so before her, leaving a trail of spring magic in her wake. That would account for Senneth’s strange fancies; that would explain her sudden and unjustifiable lift of hope.

She rode steadily, stopping once to water the horse and eat a quick meal. She estimated she could be back at the royal camp before nightfall—in plenty of time to spray a few sparks across the enemy lines, perhaps even disable a whole regiment. Just the thought caused her blisters to ache, made her hands tighten on the reins.

But fire was what she had to offer the princess, and fire was what she would deliver.

It was about an hour before sunset when she pulled close enough to pick up the muted roar of battle. The terrain was just hilly enough to prevent her from seeing the clash of opposing armies, but she could hear faint sounds of voices shouting and weapons ringing, catch a slight whiff of smoke. Dread settled back over her heart, and fear as well. What terrible events might she have missed in the day and a half that she had been gone? Nothing too awful, of course—Donnal or Kirra would have brought extraordinary news. But that left a whole range of ordinary terrors….

The thought had barely passed through her mind when she saw a rider racing her way, dressed in Brassenthwaite blue. The feeling of dread intensified; she urged her horse to a gallop. The messenger was clearly looking for her. He pulled his horse up in a spray of loose dirt as they intersected.

“What? What is it?” she demanded.

“Serra Kirra,” he panted.

Kirra?
If Kirra had been injured, there was no way Donnal would have left her side to find Senneth. But why hadn’t Cammon sent out a frantic cry? Sweet gods, could there be so many other things happening at the battlefront that Cammon didn’t even
know
? She kicked her horse into a run and called over the hoofbeats, “What happened? How badly is she hurt?” It was inconceivable that Kirra could be dead.

The messenger, pounding along beside her, could scarcely get his breath. “She had—changed shape—lioness. Gisseltess man—got off a lucky shot. Brought her down.”

Senneth’s stomach cramped. “Where is she now?”

The Brassenthwaite man was having a hard time keeping up. Indeed, if she hadn’t wanted the rest of his information, she would have left him behind. “That man of hers—”

“Donnal?”

The messenger nodded. “He was able to—bring her to safety. But her—her wounds are deep. She wasn’t—conscious—”