The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses) (61 page)
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Authors: Sharon Shinn
BOOK: The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses)
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“There is an old tale in Danalustrous about a marlord who was in love with one of his vassal’s daughters,” Kirra told him. “He was married, of course, and had three sons, and a cold and suspicious wife. And there would be many occasions when the vassal and his family would come to stay for a few days at Danan Hall. The marlord and the young lady devised this system of signals to communicate with each other during dinner, or during a ball, or anytime there was a roomful of people and they could not speak.”
Romar appeared fascinated. “What? What did they do?”
“The marlord would cross his arms upon his chest with his fingers tucked to his ribs. But then, while she watched, he would free one finger of his right hand, or two, or three, and lay them casually along his arm. This meant, ‘Come to me at one—or two—or three.’ And she would go to him. If he pulled his signet ring from the finger of his left hand and put it on his right hand, that meant, ‘It is not safe for you to come to me tonight. Unlock your door and I will come to you instead.’ If he wanted her to meet him in the gardens, he would pick a rose from one of the flower arrangements and carelessly pull its petals off while engaged in conversation with someone else. If she thought her father was watching her too closely for her to get away, she would lift her pendant and absently kiss it, then lay it back across her throat again.”
“Very subtle,” Romar said. “What if one of them made the gesture, but the other one was not watching and missed it?”
She laughed. “Wouldn’t you be watching?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Any more codes?”
Kirra flattened the palm of her left hand against her cheek, then curled it into a fist and laid it against her heart. “Sometimes, no matter how much they wanted to, they could not find a way to get free for the night. So they would send each other this signal, which meant, ‘I love you, I will love you always.’ I’m sure there were many nights that was the message they had to send.”
“How is it you know this?” he demanded. “How long ago did these people live?”
“It depends on who tells the tale. Sometimes they lived two hundred years ago, sometimes three or four hundred years. They might not even be real. But I think they are.”
“And the story’s been handed down over that much time?”
“Oh, yes. I think I learned it when I was a child. It’s part of Danalustrous lore. There’s a set of portraits—my father’s grandparents—hanging in one of the back galleries. She’s leaning her cheek against her hand; he’s got his fist against his heart. Very subtle, but everyone who knows the story knows what their postures mean. ‘I love you, I will love you always.’ ”
“That’s sweet,” he commented. “How does the original tale end? The one with the marlord and his mistress?”
She recoiled a little from the word
mistress
, but not so much that he noticed. “Unhappily, I’m afraid. Apparently the marlady learned to interpret their signals, and one day she met the young lady in the gardens before the marlord could arrive. Again, the tales vary on how the girl met her end, but suffice it to say that it was the last assignation she ever kept.”
mistress
, but not so much that he noticed. “Unhappily, I’m afraid. Apparently the marlady learned to interpret their signals, and one day she met the young lady in the gardens before the marlord could arrive. Again, the tales vary on how the girl met her end, but suffice it to say that it was the last assignation she ever kept.”
Romar was staring at her. “She
died
? The marlady had her killed?”
died
? The marlady had her killed?”
Kirra felt her laughter bubble up. “Strangled or stabbed through the heart, yes. Everyone dies badly in the old folk tales, you know. No such thing as a happy ending.”
“Yes, but they don’t all end with
murder
,” he exclaimed. “What happened to the marlady?”
murder
,” he exclaimed. “What happened to the marlady?”
Kirra laughed again. “Bore the old lord two daughters and another son. Happily ever after for
her
, I suppose.”
her
, I suppose.”
“Perhaps it’s time to invent some hand gestures of our own—ones not freighted with such a legacy,” he said.
“I think, whatever our own story holds, it is not murder in a garden at midnight,” Kirra said. “We are safe from that at least.”
Romar didn’t answer, but there was no time for more private conversation anyway. Cammon dropped back to ask if she knew where they planned to spend the night, and Romar spurred over to confer with his captain. Dusk was beginning to fall, so Kirra was not surprised when, about thirty minutes later, their course took them through a bustling market town and Tayse waved them all over to an inn on the outskirts.
It was always a long, laborious chore to determine where the armed escort would camp—since some of them, at least, needed to be close enough to the princess to defend her in case trouble arose, but no inn yard could accommodate all the soldiers in their party. Kirra, Senneth, and the royal women never bothered with these details. Followed by their own servants, they entered the inn, found accommodations reserved for them, and were ensconced in their rooms before any of the soldiers had been settled.
Kirra managed a quick bath and a change of clothes before there was a knock on her door. Senneth stood outside. “Hungry? Some of us are going down to the taproom for a late meal.”
She’d had dinner on the road, but riding always built an appetite. “Good. Let me tell Melly I’m leaving.”
The party that gathered downstairs in a few moments was weary but convivial. Romar, the four Riders, the princess, the queen, and the serramarra were joined by Donnal, Cammon, and Colton. Kirra liked the ratio of men to women. She always enjoyed masculine company and could not keep from flirting with anyone who responded, despite the fact that Casserah would not have. She sat between Justin and Cammon, arguing with them over stupid details, drawing Hammond and Colton into the discussion whenever they seemed to be paying attention. Senneth, Romar, Tayse, and Coeval were having a much weightier discussion at the other end of the table, while Donnal appeared to be telling stories to Valri and Amalie that were so humorous neither woman could stop laughing. That was unusual, Kirra thought. Donnal was only talkative around people he liked very much, and sometimes not even then.
“So, what do we expect in Rappengrass?” Cammon was asking, drawing her attention back to the conversation at hand. “We’ve had assailants in Kianlever, Coralinda Gisseltess in Coravann, and Halchon Gisseltess in Nocklyn. What comes next?”
“The ocean floods the whole territory,” Hammond guessed.
“War opens,” Justin said pessimistically.
“We have a lovely time. Everyone is charming.
That
would make this stop unique,” Kirra said.
That
would make this stop unique,” Kirra said.
They all responded in the negative and began inventing more disasters. Plague. Earthquake. An uprising of vassals. “I know,” Cammon said. “We’re invaded by Arberharst.”
“Do they have much of a navy?” Hammond asked with interest.
Justin shook his head. Kirra thought,
Great gods, now they’re going to discuss military strategy!
Great gods, now they’re going to discuss military strategy!
“Not that I ever heard,” Justin said. “An army, though—a good one. Did you ever come across any of their soldiers when you were there?” he asked Cammon.
Cammon nodded. “Oh, yeah. Troops of them going through the port cities all the time. Even my father was afraid of them, and he generally thought he could outwit anyone.”
“So, say they hire ships to transport cavalry to Gillengaria,” Hammond said.
“Infantry,” Justin corrected. “Too much trouble to ferry over horses. All that way? A nightmare.”
“There were horses on the ship I arrived on,” Cammon said.
“Sure, but hundreds of them? Like you’d need for an army?”
Kirra stopped listening to the words, though she let the rhythms of argument and counterargument make a pleasant staccato accompaniment to her thoughts. She was watching Romar, engaged in his own debate, which seemed to require arranging beer glasses like some kind of diagram on the table before him. Tayse disagreed with him, pushing the glasses aside and drawing a picture by pulling his fingertips through spilled wine. Senneth sat watching them, a half smile on her face. Unless Kirra greatly missed her guess, Senneth was experiencing much the same emotion Kirra was feeling right now.
Men and their wars and their quarrels. But how I love some of these particular men.
Men and their wars and their quarrels. But how I love some of these particular men.
Romar was watching Tayse intently; Kirra did not think he even realized that she was covertly surveying him. He sat back in his chair, crossed his arms on his chest, and shook his head emphatically. She could see his lips shape the word “no” and then the syllables of a vehement denial, though she could not actually hear what he said. Tayse and Coeval didn’t give him a chance to finish before they launched into their own counterattack.
Still arguing with Tayse, Romar lifted one finger and laid it across his arm.
Come to me tonight at one o’clock.
Kirra felt her skin heat as her blood careered through her veins. Not that the invitation was unexpected, not that she was planning on sleeping in her own room, but she was left breathless by the excitement of planning a secret meeting in such a public place. No wonder that vassal’s daughter had not been able to resist her doomed romance. What a thrill, what an exultation, to know the man you loved—so handsome, powerful, and forbidden—wanted you so badly he would tell you so before all of his friends.
But she could not pass up the chance to tease him. Keeping her eyes on Justin, though she had no idea what he was talking about, she lifted her pendant idly to her lips.
I am too closely watched. I cannot get free tonight.
She chanced a quick look at Romar to find his face creased with indignation. She tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself. She dropped her pendant and shook her head.
Only joking.
I am too closely watched. I cannot get free tonight.
She chanced a quick look at Romar to find his face creased with indignation. She tried not to laugh, but she couldn’t help herself. She dropped her pendant and shook her head.
Only joking.
“What? What did I say that was funny?” Justin demanded.
She honestly had no idea. “You’re not funny, you’re boring,” she said. “Talk about something else.”
He rolled his eyes. “Ballgowns and hairstyles. Right, that’s not boring.”
“Anything’s better than war stories.”
“How long before we arrive in Rappengrass?” Hammond asked, so they turned to travel talk instead. The meal progressed and finally ended, and the lot of them dispersed to find their beds.
Where some of them would sleep that night, and some would not.
KIRRA returned to her room for about an hour to brush and rebraid her hair and wash her face for a second time. Melly was busy mending a tear in one of the red dresses and muttering over the lack of some cleaning supply not in stock at the inn.
“I’ll be gone much of the night,” Kirra told her. “Don’t wait up for me, and don’t worry.”
Melly gave her a straight look—almost reproving, as if she knew very well where Kirra had been these last few nights. It would be just like Casserah to have a servant who felt free to scold her, not that Casserah would care what a maid said. Casserah didn’t care what anybody said. “I won’t wait up, but I
will
worry,” Melly said. “The Pale Mother knows there’s no telling
what
mischief you might get yourself into. Changing shapes whenever you please and going out courting trouble.”
will
worry,” Melly said. “The Pale Mother knows there’s no telling
what
mischief you might get yourself into. Changing shapes whenever you please and going out courting trouble.”
Kirra laughed. “I never get myself into trouble that I can’t handle.”
Melly’s gaze dropped to the fabric again. “That’s what many a young woman before you has thought.”
So she did know. Red and silver hell. This was why Kirra had never wanted to burden herself with servants. Kirra crossed to the door and waited a moment, listening to the quiet in the hall. No one seemed to be stirring. “Don’t wait up,” she repeated, and stepped outside.
Amalie’s room across the hall, Coeval at the door. She nodded at him gravely, as if she pondered matters too serious for him to comprehend, and strode along the hall. Down the steps, out into the deserted courtyard. As soon as she was sure she was deep enough in shadows that no one would be able to see her, she changed. Romar had liked her hummingbird well enough to want to employ it as a code word; therefore, she would assume that shape again.
She launched her tiny body into the air, paused to sip nectar from a night-blooming flower, and made a fluttering, indirect circuit around the exterior of the inn. Plenty of windows were open as guests sought to cool their rooms with the fresh night air. Some were shut; one was guarded by a white owl, drowsing on the sill. Kirra darted above him, winging away as fast as she could. He hadn’t seen her, or if he had, he had not realized who she was. He didn’t even open his eyes as she hurried past.
The Wild Mother was kind. She had made sure Romar’s room was not adjacent to Amalie’s. No mistaking the regent’s room, for the shutters were open wide, the room was aglow with candlelight, and Romar himself stood at the window, scanning the night sky.
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