Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses)

by Sharon Shinn

  A ridiculous thing to think. About a total stranger.

  The proprietor hurried over and ushered the man and the woman to a table on the other side of the taproom. Their guards settled themselves nearby, their poses as watchful as Justin’s, their backs to their master, their faces turned toward the door. None of them wore any insignia that marked them as being from a noble House, but Ellynor was betting that this was a marlord or a serramar, traveling in disguise.

  “What an interesting-looking man he is,” she said in a low voice, turning her attention back to Justin. “What do you think he—”

  Her words trailed off as she realized Justin had not even heard her speaking. His hands were fists on the tabletop; his eyes had darkened with anger colored by a good deal of surprise. So this was someone her new friend recognized. Someone he obviously despised. And had not expected to see in Neft.

  “Who is it, Justin?” she asked. “Who’s that man? The lord whose service you left? Are you afraid he’ll see you?”

  Justin’s grunt was half amused and half disgusted. “It doesn’t matter if he sees me. He doesn’t know who I am.”

  “Then why do you hate him?”

  That caught his attention; he finally looked at her. “Only some of it’s hate,” he said. “Some of it’s fear.”

  She felt her eyes grow wide. “Why? Who is he? What has he done to you?”

  He shook his head. “He’s never done anything to me, only to people I care about. He’s dangerous. He’s ambitious. And, last I heard, he’d been confined to his estates. He shouldn’t be out riding around at will, working on his rebellion.”

  Her breath caught. “His rebellion?”

  Justin nodded. “He wants to knock the king off the throne so he can take it for himself.”

  “Who is he?”

  Now his sardonic expression was very pronounced. He watched her as though curious to see if she would believe him. “Marlord Halchon Gisseltess. Brother to the Lestra.”

  CHAPTER 13

  IT seemed to Justin that Neft was suddenly the most popular destination in Gillengaria.

  First, Ellynor had been there an entire week, and every day she had managed to get free and come spend a little time at the stables. Justin couldn’t believe how much he looked forward to her visits, how much they found to talk about. He was not used to having long conversations with anybody, let alone someone he scarcely knew, let alone a woman. And yet there was so much to tell her. There was so much to learn. Every time she left he remembered something else he’d meant to ask, something else he should have said.

  Every time she left, he was afraid he might not see her again.

  Every time she returned, his relief was almost as profound as his delight.

  She was gone from the city now, but she had seemed hopeful she would be able to return eventually. “Serra Paulina told me she can sense that she’ll have a relapse as soon as I’m back at the convent,” she had said with a laugh. “I hope the Lestra will feel obliged to humor her.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “Oh, and I’ll miss you, too! I’m so sad already, and I haven’t left yet!”

  “Stay away from Halchon Gisseltess,” he recommended. “If he’s at the convent now? Keep clear of him.”

  “What do you think he’d do to me? Does he have a reputation for hurting young women?”

  “I don’t know about that. Just—stay away from him. He’s a bad person. A terrible man.”

  She didn’t laugh at him. She didn’t ask him how he knew or what, exactly, the marlord was guilty of. “All right,” she said. “I know how to make myself disappear. He won’t notice me.”

  “Good.”

  Neither of them had known how to say good-bye—surely they should not hug, and a handshake seemed faintly ridiculous—so he had just put his big palms on her delicate shoulders and smiled down at her. “Take care. And I mean that truly, watch yourself.”

  “You, too. Don’t get into any fights defending some other girl’s honor.”

  Another laugh, a wave, and she was gone. He’d felt a little off balance ever since.

  But her arrival and departure, much as they’d disturbed his peace, didn’t shake him up as much as the appearance of Halchon Gisseltess. What was he doing off his estates? Why was he in Neft? Stopping here briefly on his way to see his sister, no doubt—to discuss what? Formulate what kind of dreadful plans? Justin had to get word to Ghosenhall. He was reluctant to put sensitive news in a letter and send it with a courier he did not absolutely trust. Fortunes had changed hands many times because of a dangerous missive gone awry. He would have to be careful about committing any words to paper.

  Fortunately, two days after Halchon passed through, one of Tayse’s messengers arrived. He was a young man from the king’s civil guard—not a Rider and probably never good enough to be a Rider, but earnest and enthusiastic and eager to do his best. Justin sat with him an hour, giving him concise details about the things he’d seen and guessed so far, and sent him on his way the next morning. It chafed him to have to sit still in Neft, awaiting word from Tayse. Surely he had seen enough by now to know Coralinda Gisseltess was plotting against the king? Surely the fact that men of her guard were murdering nobles in their homes was reason enough to have King Baryn move against her? Surely there was very little else Justin needed to stay here to learn?

  But if he was called back to Ghosenhall, he would never see Ellynor again.

  He didn’t want to stay. It was so strange to realize that, even more, he didn’t want to leave.

  Three days after Ellynor left, another visitor arrived in Neft, this one even more welcome than Tayse’s messenger.

  Justin was alone in the stalls, checking a horse’s legs for injuries, when he heard an imperious voice raised outside. “Hey, there! Boy! Boy! Isn’t there anybody who works here? Will someone come take my horse?”

  He straightened, left the stall, and hurried out toward the front, a grimace on his face the whole time. It sounded like some rich, fat, old noblewoman who wasn’t used to waiting, who was about to leave him with some high-strung animal that would take half the night to settle. Hard to believe a woman like that would be traveling alone, wouldn’t have servants with her who could lead the horse to its quarters for the night while she made herself comfortable in the only truly respectable inn the city offered.

  But when he emerged into fading daylight, he found that the new arrival was indeed all alone. He’d been wrong about the fat part, but he’d gotten the rest of it right. She was an elderly woman, white-haired and scowling, but sitting poker-straight on the back of a magnificent night-black stallion. She was dressed in silk and velvet, a fortune in jewels around her throat, and even the horse’s bridle looked expensive. When she saw him, she tossed her head and allowed a look of distaste to cross her patrician features.

  “Are you the only one here?” she asked in accents of disgust. “You don’t look like you could be trusted to run the kennels, let alone manage a spirited animal like mine.”

  Justin had the lowest possible opinion of the nobility, but such rudeness was almost unprecedented. “I can be trusted,” he said in a level voice. “How long will you be staying?”

  Her scornful glance swept over what part of Neft she could see from this admittedly inferior district. “As short a time as possible. A day, perhaps two.”

  “We’ll be happy to feed and water your horse for you. Groom him, too, but that’s extra.”

  Her attention returned to him. She appeared to be sneering. “I can pay for any services you might see fit to offer,” she said bitingly. “Now help me from the saddle, gutter boy.”

  Justin had automatically raised his arms to lift her down, but at that, he froze. Impossible to tell by looking, of course, but he stared up at her a moment, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Kirra?” he asked in a disbelieving voice.

  “Kirra? What? Is that some kind of insult, boy?” she demanded, but she couldn’t restrain the laughter anymore. “He
lp me down, I said! Or I’ll turn you into a field mouse, and you’ll be eaten by some kind of horrid creature.”

  “Kirra!” he exclaimed. Now he grabbed her from the saddle and hauled her down, swinging her around in a circle so wildly that she actually squealed. “Who’d have believed that I’d actually be happy to see you? What are you doing in Neft?”

  “Put me down! Ow—you’re bruising my ribs! Put me down!”

  He did, but not until he’d given her a little scare, tossing her up in the air a few inches and catching her. He spun around to give the black horse an appraising look. “And is this Donnal? I suppose it must be.” The horse gave a whinny and pulled his mouth back, the equine version of a smile. “You shouldn’t let her treat you this way,” he said, leaning in, as if to whisper a secret in the horse’s ear. Donnal was Kirra’s constant companion, no matter what shape he took. “You’re her horse, you’re her dog—you need to remind her once in a while that you’re a man.”

  “Oh, we were both wolves just this morning,” Kirra said. She had looked over her shoulder as if to be certain that no one was close enough to be watching, and even as she spoke she began a gradual transformation. The white hair turned gold, the pinched features grew youthful and gracious. When Donnal changed shapes, the alteration was so quick it was almost instantaneous, but Kirra shifted slowly enough that you could watch her body melt and reshape and redefine. “We only donned our present disguises for your benefit.”

  “What are you doing in Neft?”

  “Tayse said if we happened to be down by Nocklyn we should drop in on you,” she said carelessly. “And I said, well, it’s out of my way, of course, and I don’t much like Justin, but if it’s important to you, Tayse—”

  He felt himself grinning. Kirra Danalustrous was an amazingly beautiful woman once she stood there inhabiting her own skin. But she was so wayward and so irritating that Justin had always been able to overlook her physical attractions. Indeed, the first three months he’d known her, he would have said he hated her. He still didn’t understand how it was that they were actually friends. Of a sort.

  “Well, if you’re returning to Ghosenhall, you can take a message for me,” he said. “I just gave a report to one of Tayse’s men, but you could probably make it back more quickly.”

  “Probably not,” she said. “We were just in Ghosenhall, then Rappengrass, and I think it’s time to head back to Danan Hall.” She glanced around. “Is there any urgent news from sleepy little Neft?”

  “Halchon Gisseltess passed through a few days ago,” he said, and had the satisfaction of seeing her grow instantly serious.

  “He did? But isn’t he under guard at Gissel Plain?”

  “Apparently not. And there’s been all sorts of action down at the convent. If you—”

  She stopped him with a lifted hand. “I want to hear it all. I do. But I’m starving. Can you tell me over dinner?”

  “Of course,” he said. “We can go to the taproom, but—hmm.” He debated a moment. “Are you going to go as yourself?”

  “What? Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Well, the story I put out when I got here is that I left some marlord’s service because of a fight over his daughter.” He saw the look of mocking delight on her face and added, “It was Cammon’s idea. Anyway, if someone sees you, they might think you’re the one I was trying to seduce.”

  “But, Justin, I’ve just been waiting for you to try,” she said soulfully. “All this time I thought, oh, if only Justin would notice that I’m a woman, and a woman who cares about him—”

  He grinned. “Particularly as one day someone asked me which serramarra I’d been involved with, and the only ones I really know are from Danalustrous—”

  “My father will be thrilled,” she informed him. “A match with a King’s Rider, while shockingly unequal, would still be better than a match with a peasant’s son.” She glanced at Donnal. “Who looks like a horse.”

  “And then a few weeks ago I made friends with a novice from the convent, and I’ve seen her a few times,” he went on, a little self-consciously now. “So if you show up all of a sudden and start going to taprooms with me, well, people might notice how many women seem to be in my life.”

  She had stepped back and was now gazing at him with a lurking smile. “Justin. A novice? From the convent? You have exceeded expectations! Come instantly and tell me everything. I’m starving, but this is a story I absolutely must hear.”

  He gestured at the horse. “What about Donnal? He can’t exactly come like that.”

  She was laughing. “Lead us into the stables, gutter boy. We’ll both change into shapes a little more appropriate.”

  Twenty minutes later Justin was back at almost exactly the same table he’d sat at with Ellynor, sharing a meal with yet another woman masquerading as a man. Kirra’s disguise, however, was more convincing. She’d kept her fair coloring and aristocratic features, but taken on weight, added some stubble, altered her clothes, and deepened her voice. It was amazing how easy it was, still, to think of her as Kirra. Perhaps because Justin had seen her take so many shapes and retain, through every modification, her essential personality, sunny, charming, and lawless.

  Donnal, on the other hand, was dark as the horse he’d first appeared to be, but far sleeker. He was of medium stature, with dark hair and eyes, a close beard, and a taciturn nature. He was almost as unlikely to talk whether he was fashioned as man or beast. His quiet intensity was a welcome counterfoil to Kirra’s bright restlessness.

  “So,” Kirra said. “What’s been going on here?”

  He described in detail the days he had spent spying on the convent and following the Lestra’s guardsmen the night they went burning down houses. Kirra looked exceedingly grim at the news. “I hadn’t heard that story yet. I wonder if it’s made its way to Ghosenhall? Do you know whose house it was?”

  “Southern Nocklyn. I can describe the place and the people I talked to, but”—he shrugged—“I don’t know the nobility.”

  “Well, this is proof, if Senneth wanted any, that the Lestra is engaged in murder. I can’t imagine that Baryn can just overlook such actions!”

  “But if royal guards can’t keep Halchon on his estates, how will the king be able to control the Daughters?” Justin demanded. “When so many people worship the Pale Mother and would do anything the Lestra demanded?”

  Donnal looked up. “There are a few who fear the Pale Mother, too, and the Daughters,” he said in his quiet voice. “If they fear the goddess more than they fear the king, they will act for the convent and not for the crown.”

  “And what’s going on in Ghosenhall, anyway?” Justin said, a note of complaint in his voice. “I haven’t heard any kind of important news.”

  “Well,” Kirra said, folding her hands around her glass of beer. “There was a summit recently—most of the marlords were there and Thirteenth House lords from all over the realm. It was organized by the regent.”

  She gave Justin a fleeting glance and returned her attention to her hands. Last summer, Kirra had fallen madly in love with Romar Brendyn, the king’s regent and a married man. The affair had almost ended her friendship—or whatever you’d call it—with Donnal and had most certainly broken her heart. In fact, Justin had not seen her since she had broken off the relationship with the regent and returned to Danalustrous, Donnal at her side.

  Time had healed some of the worst wounds, it seemed. Justin didn’t feel he could ask her for all the details as long as Donnal was sitting next to her.

  “Nothing of any real significance was decided at the conference,” she went on. “The marlords, as might be expected, strenuously resisted any notion of giving up control of even the smallest portions of their lands. The king remained entirely neutral. But—there seemed to be—the overall feeling was one of hope, I thought. Hope that things might begin to change, now that there were actually public discussions of the topic. Romar encouraged the marlords to make lists of properties they might be willing to
sign over, and the lesser lords to make lists of the properties they most coveted. I have no doubt at all that nothing on these lists will match. But it’s a start.”