The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses) (44 page)

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Authors: Sharon Shinn

BOOK: The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses)
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He looked at her a long time, his eyes watery in his crumpled, aging face. Easy to write him off as a big, ungainly man too simple to know when the realm faced danger. But suddenly he did not look at all stupid to Kirra. He had married a Lirren girl, something that literally never happened, and for years he had run a vast and wealthy House with no hint of turmoil or scandal. “I will not go to war,” he said at last. “I have no quarrel with mystics, though I worship the Pale Mother and I find she gives me a deep sense of peace. I honor my king and I would not fight against him, so you can be sure I would not join any ambitious rebellion. But I will not send my vassals into war. I will not ask my tenant farmers to put down their plows and take up swords. If war comes, it will come without Coravann.”
 
“Easy to say,” Kirra said. “Not so easy to achieve when your near neighbors come tramping through your farmers’ fields.”
 
“They will not come through
my
fields,” he said.
 
She sighed and stirred on her chair. “You sound like my father.”
 
“That’s a compliment.”
 
She came to her feet. “But I find myself more cynical than either of you. I do not think it will be so simple to sit back and watch the kingdom be ripped apart, whatever your intentions now.”
 
He stood beside her, reached out to take her hand in one of his great, warm paws. “You need not worry for your sister’s safety, serra Casserah,” he said. “At least not at my hands. I will lift a sword against no one, and everyone is welcome at my gate.”
 
“I cannot quarrel with your sentiments, but I wish you were a little more discriminating in your friends, marlord,” she said, sinking into a graceful curtsey with her hand still in his. “But as long as you do not plot against us, I consider myself lucky. Thank you for a most enjoyable party.”
 
He kissed her on the cheek and she left. Back in her room, she found that Melly had finished packing everything and was directing servants in how to load the carriage. No time to visit with Coralinda Gisseltess, for which she was just as glad. She wrote the Lestra a brief note, doing a fair imitation of Casserah’s handwriting, and expressed her regret that their interview would have to be postponed. Then she hurried downstairs to see if the carriages were pulled up to the door. She found she was eager to move on, to leave Coravann Keep behind.
 
 
 
BUT the journey itself was odd, askew, though it took Kirra a day or so to sort out why. The weather was unexpectedly hot and the carriages were stifling. It didn’t help that their pace was so slow, for the main road between Coravann and Nocklyn was narrow, picking its way alternately through tall forests and flatlands of dense, prickly shrubbery. In addition, their party was so large: three carriages, a half dozen packhorses, Romar’s men, the Riders, the palace soldiers, and the primary members of the traveling party themselves. Romar’s captain, Colton, had become de facto organizer of the whole mess, setting the pace, determining who rode in what order, and essentially keeping them all together in a relatively efficient way.
 
The Riders had made it clear they were in charge of defense. Tayse always rode fifty or a hundred yards ahead of the others, returning from time to time to check that no one had died in his absence. Justin rode just about as far in the rear to make sure no one came from behind by stealth. The other two Riders—Kirra had finally learned that their names were Coeval and Hammond—kept to either side of Amalie’s carriage, watching her no matter what the distractions.
 
That first day, the first distraction was the heat. Well before noon, Kirra had decided she couldn’t stand it anymore. When they came to a halt to clear a fallen tree from the road, she hopped out of the coach and found a spare horse and saddle. Within minutes, she was mounted and trotting next to Donnal, who was still in human shape and on horseback himself. She felt instantly more cheerful.
 
Her example inspired Amalie and Senneth, who soon found horses of their own. Valri kept to the carriage and said she didn’t mind the heat, and nothing would induce Melly to ride if she could lie on a cushioned seat in a carriage and drowse.
 
When they halted for the lunch break, the women sat together and discussed which items of clothing they might be able to remove and still look royal or at least respectable. There were a few giggling retreats to the closed coaches while undergarments came off and lighter-weight skirts were substituted for current items. Kirra, at least, felt better afterward, and judging by Amalie’s laugh and Senneth’s smile, both of them were cooler and happier as well.
 
Though Senneth’s skin was never actually cool to the touch. And, in fact, she never seemed to mind the heat. But she seemed to be enjoying herself anyway.
 
Even Valri chose to ride for the second half of the journey, settled on the back of a night-black mare with all the unconscious grace of someone who’d grown up in the saddle. Another small piece of the puzzle Kirra was assembling about the mysterious young queen. Not a lord’s daughter, most likely; most noblewomen were only indifferent horsewomen, as they spent more of their time on other pursuits. Kirra had gained all her ease on horseback in the last eight years as she went off on her wanderings.
 
Romar Brendyn said as much as he ranged up beside her. “I am surprised to see that Casserah Danalustrous is an excellent rider,” he said. “She must spend more time in the saddle than most ladies I know.”
 
Kirra laughed. “No, in fact, I am not being quite true to my role at the moment. But it is very hard to pretend to be awkward in the saddle when in fact you feel quite comfortable there.”
 
“And look superb.”
 
“Thank you, my lord,” she said, and changed the subject. “I talked to Heffel this morning. He says he won’t take sides if a war comes. Do you think we can believe him?”
 
“I think we don’t have a choice. But I think he’ll find his principles hard to stick to if war actually arrives on his doorstep.”
 
“If he must choose sides, I think he’ll take ours.”
 
“I hope so,” Romar said, “for he is a key ally.” Kirra sent him an inquiring look; she was not used to thinking Coravann particularly strategic. “Because of the Lirren connection,” he added. “He has friends across the mountain. Does he have any influence with them? Can he convince them to ally with us? Perhaps not—but perhaps. I would not like to lose that link.”
 
“I would not think the Lirrenfolk are likely to be drawn into any fight between Houses.”
 
“Perhaps not. But they might think that an aggressor, once used to the idea of conquest, could start looking around for new lands to take over. That’s what I’d think, at any rate, if my near neighbors started annexing property.”
 
“I just wish I knew for sure,” she said, “what House would take what side.”
 
They debated that topic for a while, arguing loyalty, history, ambition, and tolerance for mystics. Kirra noticed that, no matter how deeply they got into their own discussion, Romar’s attention was never entirely on her. He was watching the road; he was listening to the hoofbeats of the riders behind him; he was observing his niece and the other members of their party. His eyes returned again and again to the riders in front of them, and finally he shook his head and laughed.
 
“What can
they
be talking about?” he wondered.
 
Kirra let her gaze rove over the other pairs of riders, which was when she realized that no one was with the right partner this afternoon. Amalie and Donnal rode side by side, the princess talking with great animation while Donnal courteously angled his head to listen. When had they become friends? While he perched in owl shape on her windowsill at night? That seemed unlikely. So when? And what was she telling him that he found so captivating? Donnal could be an excellent listener, since he rarely had any inclination to talk, but the expression on his face was usually far more neutral than this look of crinkled amusement. Kirra wouldn’t have thought the sheltered princess would have had too many funny stories to tell. Clearly she was wrong.
 
Behind Donnal and Amalie rode an even less likely couple: Cammon and the queen. Their conversation appeared to be more balanced and a little less animated. By the intent expression on Cammon’s face and the thoughtful expression on Valri’s, Kirra had to guess he was asking questions—about what, only the gods would know—and Valri was giving measured answers.
 
But Romar had been referring to neither of those strange pairs when he asked his question. He was watching Senneth interact with Colton, a conversation that appeared to be another give-and-take between equals. “He is not the kind of man who usually strikes up friendships with serramarra,” Romar continued rather blankly.
 
“Maybe he doesn’t realize who she is,” Kirra suggested. “Senneth has spent the last seventeen years roaming the country—and other countries as well. Maybe she’s telling him about some of her adventures. Maybe he thinks she’s just a hired sword.”
 
“Maybe,” Romar replied, sounding unconvinced. “But Colton tends to be shy of women. He is not even comfortable having a conversation with my wife.”
 
The word hit like a blow. Kirra rode on a few moments in silence, trying to think of something else to say. Romar glanced over at her and she saw his face twist.
 
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve tried to be careful.”
 
She could not even shake her sister’s dark hair and pretend she didn’t know what he meant. Instead she asked, in a quiet voice, “Why don’t you tell me about her? What’s she like? When did you decide to marry? It might be useful for me to have an image of her in my head.”
 
He nodded and seemed to think it over. “It was my mother’s idea that I marry,” he said at last. “By the time I turned thirty, my younger brother already had a wife and two children. Both girls, neither so steady and serious that you’d instantly think, ‘Ah, she’d be a good one to leave the property to.’ And I was the heir, after all. It behooved me to try to get an heir of my own.”
 
“And you didn’t already have your eye on some exquisite young lady who could run your household at your side while bearing you a multitude of blond young sons?”
 
He grinned briefly at the picture. “Strangely, no. I hadn’t been much of one for the social circuit—as you might have guessed, seeing how I despise the events we’ve been forced to attend. So, I had only met a handful of eligible young women and none of them had—I hadn’t—it is not such an easy thing to look at a person and say, ‘Yes, that’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. That one and no other. I can stop looking now.’ Because it’s not just that she’ll be helping you run the household and interviewing for a new head cook and training your sons how to be courteous to their elders. I could think of a handful of young women who would have been highly skilled at those tasks. But it’s that you have to wake up in bed next to her—for the next thirty or forty years. That makes it harder to choose.”
 
Kirra couldn’t help giggling, though she knew she shouldn’t. “But then you stumbled upon a paragon—”
 
He hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders. “I looked for a while. Two years, I suppose. I went to Ghosenhall and the balls of the northern Houses. I saw no one who appealed to me so much I was moved to offer her my heart.” He glanced over at her again. “I don’t remember seeing you
or
your sister at any of these events.”
 
“No, Casserah rarely leaves Danalustrous. I leave it all the time, but I do not always go to—” She made an elaborate gesture. “The places you might encounter the nobility.”
 
“So I lost interest in the notion of marrying for love, but I still had to marry. I allowed my mother to suggest a few names. She was most enthusiastic about Belinda, whose father owned property not far from ours. I’d met her a number of times over the years, of course. Now I began to view her in a new light, evaluating her strengths, judging how I might tolerate her if I had to spend unbroken days in her company. She’s a very—how to describe her—a very soothing person. She is small and dark-haired and restful. She doesn’t fret. She’s not easily overset. She’s efficient and thoughtful, and she likes to solve problems. She treats everyone she encounters with the same simple kindness so that everyone, from the lowest footman to the king himself, feels comfortable with her. Anyone could look at her and see she would be an excellent mother. And I was sure she would make me an excellent wife.” He looked over at Kirra again, very briefly. “And she has.”
 
Kirra felt even more miserable, though she tried to conceal it. “I thought you had no children.”
 
He shook his head. “No, not yet. It is a source of some concern to Belinda that she has not conceived during this first year. But both my mother and hers say that babies take their own time and she shouldn’t worry. Meanwhile, she has her hands full enough handling the estates now that I am gone so much. I don’t know that she expected to marry the regent of the realm and to become so responsible for duties that should be mine. But she has not complained. In fact, she has done a remarkable job.”

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