Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses)

by Sharon Shinn

  She passed her hands over the upper torso again. Yes, this was the trouble, clustered around the heart and the lungs. Infection and pressure, and not enough strength to resist. “I wish I had been here a day or two sooner,” Ellynor murmured.

  Dropping to the chair and making herself comfortable, she pulled back the blankets and spread her fingers over the woman’s thin nightshirt. She could feel the slight fall and rise of the patient’s ribs, catch the faint gurgle as her breath came haltingly in. The fabric of the nightgown felt warm to the touch, as if it had been set close to a fire. Fever, Ellynor knew, seeping upward from the flesh.

  “Great Mother, lay your hands over mine,” she whispered, as she had whispered at so many sickbeds of the sebahta. “Pour your strength into me. Heal this woman through the medium of my body.”

  She closed her eyes and opened her heart. Above her, through the layers of wood and stone, she could sense the arched bowl of the Dark Watcher’s hands, cupped over the world to keep it safe. She could almost hear the goddess’s rhythmic chanting as she counted each of the souls under her protection. Here’s one . . . and another . . . and another . . . and one more. . . .

  She could tell the exact moment the goddess recognized her, heard Ellynor’s call for help, and kindly responded. She felt the power blossom through her, like heat, like excitement, prickling along her veins. Her hands grew warm, her head felt dizzy, and the moonstone on her bracelet flared with fire. Behind her eyelids she had the impression the room itself grew darker, as the Black Mother flowed in, past the closed shutters, down the banked chimney, and pooled around the patient and the supplicant.

  The old woman coughed and stirred under Ellynor’s hands. Her breathing grew easier, if only a little. She moved her head on the pillow, shifted her lax arms, then gave a sigh of relief. Ellynor guessed that some squeeze of pain had been lifted from her chest—a small blessing, even if that was to be the only one.

  “Thank you, Great Mother,” Ellynor whispered. “You never fail me.”

  She opened her eyes, taking a moment to clear her head and let the sense of light seep back into the room. The goddess had done her part; now it was Ellynor’s turn. She stood and moved rather briskly around the bed, checking to see what medicines had been gathered to ease the old woman’s way. Ah—here were some curative herbs, here was water, and something that smelled like a healing concoction. She would guess none of these had been administered within the last day or two, since the patient’s case had seemed hopeless. Now, she thought, the old woman would swallow whatever she was offered.

  And so she did. In the next two hours, Ellynor induced her to take a glass of water as well as some powdered herbs, and she had the satisfaction of seeing a little color return to the wan cheeks. The old woman did not speak and barely woke, but she turned on her side and moved her hands as if to check for something that was not there. Ellynor caught the restless fingers and held them in hers.

  “Take a little more strength from my body—I have plenty,” she said in a low voice. Almost as if she heard and understood, the woman’s grip tightened. Then with another sigh, she released Ellynor’s hand and seemed to fall into an even deeper slumber.

  The woman was still sleeping three hours later when Ellynor sent the servant to wake Astira so she could seek her own bed. She didn’t tell Astira what she had done, merely said, “You might try giving her some water every half hour or so. She took some when I offered it, and it seemed to make her easier.”

  “I pray she doesn’t die while I’m alone with her!”

  “I don’t think she will. I’m off to get some sleep.”

  “I hope they let both of us sleep in tomorrow morning.”

  Ellynor laughed softly and left. Once in her own room, she was so tired that for a moment she could not remember which side of the bed was hers and which was Astira’s. It was always that way, when the Black Mother used her to heal someone else. It was as if all the energy was stripped from her body, washed into someone else’s veins. Too tired to even scrub her face or change out of her clothes, Ellynor climbed into bed and fell instantly asleep.

  WHEN Ellynor went down to the dining hall the next morning—so late it could hardly be called morning any longer—she found a half dozen strangers in the room, along with Astira, the Lestra, and Jenetta Gisseltess. Everyone seemed excited, though they spoke in low voices and continually looked toward the door as if they were expecting fresh news to walk across the threshold. Ellynor gathered food from the sideboard and sat next to Astira.

  “Did something happen?” she whispered.

  Astira nodded. “The old woman is much better this morning! Jenetta is trying not to be too hopeful, because the Lestra told her people often seem to get stronger just before they die. But Jenetta called her sisters and her nieces over because she thought her mother might be well enough to wake up and maybe recognize everyone enough to say good-bye.”

  “Doesn’t anyone think she might live, after all?” Ellynor asked, spooning up a mouthful of fruit. She was so hungry she could eat everything on her plate and go back for more.

  “Oh, I thought she was too sick to pull through, didn’t you?”

  “It depends on the will of the goddess,” Ellynor said. Not specifying which goddess. No one ever asked.

  “Of course,” Astira said, instantly pious. “The Pale Mother will choose what is best.”

  Ellynor ate most of a piece of bread in three bites. “Does this mean we won’t be leaving today after all?”

  “I don’t think so.” Astira tried not to smile, but she couldn’t quite help it. “The Lestra is a little vexed, I think. She had said she would stay through the end, but now it appears the end will not be coming quite so soon. She does not want to offend Jenetta, of course, but—anyway, I don’t know what she will decide! I think we are here another day, at least.”

  “I wonder if we’ll be allowed to leave the house. Perhaps get to see a little of Neft,” Ellynor said hopefully.

  Astira yawned. “You can ask, if you want. I’d just like to sleep a few more hours. Particularly if we’re going to be up again tonight, saying prayers over a sick woman. Darris is back in bed already.”

  Ellynor felt guilty a moment, remembering that she had not, in fact, chanted prayers all night. Well, she had prayed to the Dark Watcher, of course; surely that was good enough?

  “You’re right,” she said. “We should sleep while we can.”

  But a few minutes later, when the chance came to leave the house, she took it without hesitation.

  She was just finishing her breakfast (seconds of the eggs and fruit, thirds of the bread), when the Lestra rose and approached the novices. Astira and Ellynor hastily stood up, Ellynor brushing crumbs from her robes. “I have a commission for one of you, if you would be so good as to carry it out,” the Lestra said.

  They both nodded so deeply they might be bowing. “Yes, my lady,” they replied in unison.

  “I need a gift delivered to a visitor in town. I do not wish to send it by one of Jenetta’s servants, for it is a moonstone, and holy to the Pale Mother. It needs to rest in hands that will treat it with extreme care.”

  Ellynor gave a quick sideways glance at Astira, who nodded slightly. “I will be happy to carry it for you, my lady,” she said respectfully. “Someone must tell me the streets to take and how quickly I must be back before we leave.”

  “We shall not leave today,” the Lestra said, and, indeed, Ellynor thought she caught a tone of annoyance in that lovely voice. “We are now considering tomorrow. That does not mean you should dawdle in the streets.”

  “No, my lady. Of course not, my lady.”

  A slight relenting; she could hear the faintest trace of a smile in the Lestra’s voice. “That does not mean, if a stranger stops and asks you for a benediction, that you should turn away. Give the Pale Mother’s blessing to anyone who inquires.”

  “I will, my lady.”

  “Come with me.”

  Ellynor followed the Le
stra to a much finer bedroom than the one she shared with Astira, and received a silken pouch drawn shut with a gold cord. For a moment, the moonstones on her bracelet burned with a sympathetic heat, but as soon as she stored the pouch in a voluminous pocket, the extra warmth died away. The Lestra handed her a formal card written with a woman’s name and address, and a footman at the front door described the streets she would have to traverse to find her destination.

  “I could come with you, at that,” the footman said. He was maybe a year or two younger than Ellynor and had a friendly grin. “Neft can be a confusing place if you’re not used to it. I was lost twenty times my first week here!”

  If she was accompanied, even by someone so casual, Ellynor was sure part of her glorious sense of freedom would be destroyed. “Thank you, but the Lestra does not like us to associatewith attractive young men,” she said, adding the adjective and a half smile to take any sting from her words. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”

  He was smiling even more broadly. “If you get lost, just ask anyone where Jenetta Gisseltess’s house can be found. Everybody knows us.”

  “I will. Thank you. I will be back as soon as I can.”

  And she stepped off the porch, across the yard, out through the wrought-iron gate, and onto the street.

  She was alone in Neft! Alone for the first time in her life!

  CHAPTER 5

  ELLYNOR did fairly well on her walk to her destination, for the footman’s directions were fresh in her head and she was concentrating closely. Down the hill, turn to the left, down another street, cross a major road, go three-quarters of the way around a town circle, turn right, turn left at another corner . . . Still, there was so much to see that she couldn’t help getting a little distracted. The streets were full of conveyances of every description, from farmer’s carts to noblemen’s carriages, and pedestrians dodged through horse traffic somewhat to their peril. Some corners were quiet, lined with small buildings or what looked like private homes, but the farther she got from the Gisseltess house, the noisier and busier the streets became. Look, these appeared to be shops, selling— everything! Lace and fabric and shoes and wine and tools and even clothing. Even food, already prepared for people who must be too lazy to make it themselves. It smelled wonderful, though. If she’d had any coppers to her name, Ellynor might have been tempted to sample some. Though she could not even guess what such a luxury might cost.

  Past the shops and over another small hill, the terrain changed again, became a little more inhospitable. Ellynor thought the women she came across looked dispirited, even degraded, while the men she passed frequently smelled of ale. The streets were none too clean, either, in this part of town, muddy and smelling of hastily emptied chamber pots. Ellynor picked up her skirts and stepped delicately around the more unidentifiable substances in her way. She was glad she’d brought a fresh robe to Neft with her; she wasn’t sure she’d want to wear this one again till after it had been cleaned.

  It was hard to imagine who from this part of the city might claim a friendship with the Lestra.

  Her destination, when she reached it, proved to be a small building set among a row of other such buildings that looked like they each might contain several living spaces inside. The girl who answered the door seemed to be about fourteen and underfed, but her face and dress were clean.

  “I’m looking for someone named Bertha,” Ellynor said.

  The girl nodded. “That’s my mother. I’ll get her.”

  A few moments later, Bertha appeared, a tired-looking but respectable enough woman who could have been the age of Ellynor’s mother. “Are you from the Lestra?” she asked hopefully.

  “I am,” said Ellynor. “This is for you.” And she pulled out the moonstone (that rush of heat again) and handed it over.

  Bertha pressed her lips to the thin bag, closing her eyes as if in ecstasy or gratitude. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “Praise the goddess and her goodness,” Ellynor said piously.

  “Praise the Silver Lady.”

  Opening her eyes, Bertha gave Ellynor a bright smile. “Did you walk here from the Gisseltess house? Would you like to come in? I could give you something to drink.”

  “Thank you, no. I’m not supposed to linger.”

  “And you can find your way back?”

  “I’m sure I can. May the goddess watch over you.”

  “Oh, and over you, too!”

  Smiling a little, Ellynor started out on her return journey. But somewhere she made a wrong turn, since she found herself on a street she had never seen before. She retraced her steps, but could not find the corner where she had gone awry. Nothing looked familiar no matter which direction she turned. That was a hill, true, but it didn’t seem to be lined with any of the shops she’d noticed on her way here.

  She was lost.

  A pulse of panic caused her heart to race and her cheeks to flush, but she told herself sternly not to be ridiculous. It had taken her less than an hour to get from Jenetta’s house to her destination; even with a few missteps, it should not take her much longer than that to find her way home. Everyone knows where the Gisseltess house is, she reminded herself. Just find someone and ask.

  She had happened upon a block where there were not many vehicles in the street, and not many pedestrians, either. By the scents she could pick up, there were many horses nearby— stables, maybe—and a wide variety of alcoholic beverages. Could these buildings be taverns, which she had heard about but never actually seen? Didn’t people behave very badly when they were in such places? She hesitated to knock on one of the closed doors. She would walk a little farther and see if she passed someone on the street.

  Indeed, she hadn’t gone another hundred yards before she spotted a man standing on a corner, one hand on his hip, one hand raised to his eyes as if gauging the hour by the angle of the sun. From behind, he appeared to be impeccably dressed, and his boots were well polished. A man of some means, apparently. She would ask him how to find her destination.

  Still, it took some courage to approach a stranger, a man, without a friend or brother at her side.

  “Excuse me,” she addressed the back of his coat, which appeared to be made of fine wool. “Could I ask you for directions?”

  He spun around at the sound of her voice, and she instantly knew she had made a bad choice. He couldn’t have been much older than Torrin, but his face looked lined and hardened, and she could smell stale wine on his breath. She did not like the expression his face showed when he realized he had been accosted by a lone woman. In simple white robes. Who looked terrified.

  “Well,” he said softly. “Who might you be, little lost girl?”

  Ellynor took a step backward, trying not to be obvious about it. It had never occurred to her before, but a man was so much bigger than a woman, with such powerful hands and arms. If he wanted to, this one could strangle her before she had time to draw breath. She had no idea how to fend off a violent attacker—she had never needed to know.

  “I am a novice in the Lumanen Convent, one of the Daughters of the Pale Mother,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. Most folks in this region were in awe of the Daughters; this credential might earn her some respect. “I am looking for the house of Jenetta Gisseltess.”

  He smiled and shook his head. He had copied her action, stepping forward as she stepped back, almost as if they executed the motions of a dance. “Never heard of it,” he said. “Don’t know where it is. Plenty of other houses I could take you to, though.”

  She stood firm, refusing to back away again, and made her voice icy. “Thank you, no. I’ll continue on my way without your help.”

  His hand flashed out and caught her by the shoulder. The grip was tight enough to leave a mark. “Not so fast,” he said. “Stay and talk to me awhile.”