Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses)

by Sharon Shinn

  Kirra grinned. “You might be the only one who’s able to tell the difference. But I’ll see what I can find in the kitchens.” She looked doubtfully at the snarling cat. “But—if he’ll only eat sweetbreads—”

  “That was when he could choose his own diet,” Senneth said. “He will be much less particular now.”

  LESS than an hour later, they were on their way—an even stranger cavalcade, Senneth thought, than they had been when they first set out. Predictably, Justin had been dismayed at the new addition to their party, but when he saw that Tayse did not protest, he more or less held his tongue. Donnal was intrigued by the raelynx and narrowed his eyes in appraisal; Senneth guessed it would not be long before he knew the form well enough to assume it for himself. Cammon seemed fascinated by the wild creature and kept twisting in his saddle to keep its russet shape in sight.

  They had made quite a stir in the village when Senneth walked out of her chamber, down the hall, and through the taproom with the cat two inches from her side. She had a firm mental grip on him, for he was very edgy to appear abroad in daylight with so many people around. Almost as edgy as the people they encountered.

  “May the Pale Mother blink at the Bright Mother’s eye!” she heard someone swear, but most everyone else was silent with stupefaction. She moved unhurriedly, not really glancing at the other people in the hallway and open room, but aware of them all, staring, pointing, starting to heat with anger.

  “You—what have you—what are you doing?” the innkeeper demanded just as she reached the door. “That creature—that murderer—are you taking him with you alive?”

  Justin and Donnal appeared beside her at that juncture, Justin with his hand suggestively on his weapon belt. The others were outside with the horses. Senneth let her calm gaze rest briefly on the proprietor’s face.

  “I am,” she said. “I have a use for him.”

  “But he—but we—he should be killed!” someone else exclaimed.

  “He is mine now,” Senneth said, “I will do with him what I like.” She put a hand on the door, then turned back to cast one quick glance around at the staring, suspicious faces. “Be glad that he will trouble you no longer.”

  “But you—how can you—what power do you have that you can make him obey you like that?” the innkeeper said.

  “I am skilled with animals,” she said and pushed the door open.

  Donnal preceded her; Justin waited for Senneth and the raelynx to step through the door first. Just before she put her foot outside, she heard someone inside mutter, “Mystic.”

  And another voice, a little louder. “Witch.”

  “Sorceress.”

  She swung aboard her horse and spurred it forward before Justin had even mounted. “I think we’d better leave as quickly as we can,” she said to Tayse, who nodded.

  Kirra, of course, was laughing. “I guess you’ll have to forget about your reward,” she said.

  Senneth smiled back. “I think I’ve come away with something even more valuable than their gold.”

  AT first they traveled at a pretty rapid rate, Justin behind them to ensure there was no pursuit. After a while, when it was clear no one had followed, they settled into a more comfortable pace. Senneth stayed primarily focused on the raelynx, so she was only peripherally aware of the other people in her party. Her hands lay lax on the reins, and she trusted her horse to stay with the others while she kept all her concentration on the immature cat.

  It roved beside them, a little distance off the road, running with a fluid ease that made her, for a moment, greatly envy Donnal and Kirra and their ability to turn into such fierce, magnificent creatures. Its own energy was boundless; its attention went everywhere, to each new sound and sight that presented itself on their trip. Now and then it dashed away to chase down a rabbit or a bird, but Senneth jerked it sharply back, causing it to hiss in frustration. Later, when she was more sure of her control over it, she would allow it to hunt. For now, she did not want the thrill of adrenaline to flood its muscles and help it break free of her unwanted influence.

  When they stopped for lunch, the raelynx stopped with them, sitting about five yards away with its eyes fixed unwaveringly on their small human circle. Justin kept glancing over at it with a certain nervousness, but no one else seemed worried that it would suddenly decide to make one of them its midday meal.

  Senneth tossed it a chunk of cooked venison, which the raelynx ignored at first as if it was too proud to eat food provided by someone else’s enterprise. But in a few minutes, it started batting at the slab of meat, playing with it, and then finally condescended to lower its sharp teeth and tear out a few bites.

  Senneth grinned. She looked up to find Kirra and Donnal also smiling. Tayse looked thoughtful. He said, “You won’t be able to feed it for long if your eventual plan is to release it back in the wild.”

  “I don’t think this one will forget how to hunt for himself any time soon,” Kirra said.

  “Just a few days,” Senneth said. “Just until he gets used to me.”

  Justin said, “You think that only takes a few days?”

  She answered him in a neutral voice. “He has fewer reasons to distrust me.”

  Tayse was on his feet. “Back on the road,” he said. “I’d just as soon get as many miles as we can between us and the village.”

  Justin was instantly standing. “I don’t think they’re going to send anyone after us.”

  “No, but they’ll spread the word. Six travelers, men and women, some of them mystics. And a raelynx. Anyone trying to follow our trail will not find it difficult.”

  “I agree with Tayse,” Senneth said. “Let’s ride on.”

  The rest of the day was cold but uneventful, though Senneth thought she might not even have noticed if other dangers stalked them, so intent was she on holding the cat close. It was a nocturnal creature, so it grew even more lively as the afternoon faded and night drew near. She felt the tug of its will as an almost tangible cord wound tightly around her entire body and strung with tension for the whole distance between them. She increased her concentration and lost even more interest in her surroundings. The cat lunged and tested, but it did not get free.

  By nightfall, she had a terrific headache. She could feel the muscles of her neck bunched with strain; heavy blood, rich with poison, thrummed through the back of her skull. She was almost startled to find the others pulling off the road and circling through the low brushy growth to find a level site for a camp. Somewhat blindly, she followed them and slid to the ground where the rest of them stood. Without being asked, Cammon stepped up and took her horse. The others fell into their customary tasks.

  It didn’t take much energy for Senneth to build the fire, so she did that, somewhat absently, and then began assembling food for the evening meal. Around her, she caught voices and motion, but they seemed distant and unimportant. The raelynx had dropped to its belly a few yards away and was watching them all with what attention it could spare from the sight of darting night birds and the sound of rustling wood mice.

  She thought this might feel like a longer night than the one before.

  Donnal squatted beside her, a container of fresh water in his hands. “Anything in particular a raelynx fears?” he asked her quietly.

  She looked at him blankly for a moment before her mind was able to comprehend the question. “Natural enemies, you mean? I’m not sure. It’s faster than a wolf or a bear, though either of those could probably kill an adult raelynx if it was injured. But I’ve had my mind wrapped around its mind all day, and it hasn’t once seemed afraid. I’m not sure fear is part of its makeup.”

  A small, serious smile on that dark, serious face. “Maybe it wants a friend, then,” Donnal said. “I’ll try, after dinner. I don’t think I can control it, but I think I can take some of the burden off you.”

  She gave him a wan smile. “That would be helpful.”

  As usual, the meal was quick and efficient, cleaned up afterward without much fu
ss. “I’ll do a last check,” Justin said and loped off to prowl the perimeter.

  Kirra yawned and stretched. “I suppose we’d better watch tonight again,” she said. “These days, it’s hard to know who might be after us.”

  “Not Senneth,” Tayse said. “She only slept half the night last night.”

  “And she has a headache,” Cammon added.

  She glanced at him but couldn’t say she was surprised. “It’ll be better in the morning,” she said.

  Tayse glanced at Kirra, as if expecting her to speak. When she didn’t, he asked, “So why doesn’t Kirra stop your headache with her mystical healing powers?”

  “I wish I could,” Kirra said regretfully. “But this is caused by magic and can’t be healed by magic.”

  Now Tayse looked back at Senneth. “Is it?”

  She nodded—carefully, though, because of the acid-laced blood in her head. “Sustained effort like this—holding to the raelynx—can cause a pain that can be pretty intense.”

  He lifted his brows. “Well, if you’re going to be dragging the creature along with us for the next few weeks on the road, are you going to have a headache that whole time? Or a headache that gets worse?”

  “I hope not,” she said with a slight smile. “Usually it goes away in a day or two. It’s like—” She shrugged, not thinking clearly enough to explain.

  “It’s like you picking up your sword and spending the day practicing a new maneuver,” Kirra said. “Your muscles will be sore the next day. And the day after that, as you keep practicing. But pretty soon you’ll get used to it, and the ache will go away. It’s like that. Sort of.”

  Donnal had put down his dishes and risen to his feet. “Let me see what I can do,” he said, and his body dissolved into a swirl of color. Almost immediately, it had re-formed itself into a lethal red shape of grace and power.

  Tayse’s breath hissed in. “I’m glad most of these creatures stay on the other side of the Lireth Mountains,” he said.

  Senneth nodded. As an adult raelynx, Donnal was significantly heavier and larger than the immature one, though he had the same patched and tufted fur, the same black eyes and pointed nose. The kit had been too fast and too strong for humans to catch; she thought an adult let loose in an unprotected countryside would be an absolute terror.

  “Seeing you,” she said slowly, “I begin to think I wouldn’t have been able to hold this one if we’d come across him much older.” She reached out a hand to Donnal, who nudged it aside with his nose and then took it in his mouth in a light, playful grip. She could feel the needle-sharp front teeth, the powerful back teeth.

  “I thought you said you acquired this skill in the Lirrens,” Tayse said.

  She gave him a faint smile. “I never said I was good at it. I’m learning as I go.”

  Donnal released her and padded off on silent feet to where the baby cat lay. Senneth turned to watch, monitoring the encounter as much with her mind as with her eyes. At Donnal’s approach, the smaller animal scrambled to its feet, mewling like a house cat. It backed off, every sinew tense, every sense straining to assess this new danger. Donnal circled it once, seeming to sniff the air between them, never getting too close. Then he sat on his haunches and merely watched the other raelynx.

  “This could take a while,” Kirra said, standing up and shaking out her bedroll.

  “And might cause a backlash if these raelynxes aren’t pack animals,” Tayse said.

  “I know,” Senneth said. “I’m not letting go.”

  So she sat for the next thirty minutes, body loose, mind engaged, half-watching and half-feeling the tentative friendship ritual unfold between Donnal and the kit. She barely noticed Justin arriving back in camp, his footfalls almost silent, hardly realized he was holding a low conversation with Tayse. She couldn’t have said what Cammon and Kirra did to prepare the camp or themselves for oncoming night. She was concerned only with the slow, grudging trust the young raelynx offered his companion. She felt it when his muscles relaxed, when he dropped back to the ground and lay his head on his outstretched forepaws. She was so closely connected to him and his animal senses that she could almost smell what he smelled, Donnal’s comforting and familiar scent. When Donnal settled his big body next to the smaller one for warmth, she almost jolted backward, so strong was her tactile impression.

  She felt her own bones rumble when the raelynx started to purr.

  Slowly, partially, she withdrew her magic from the raelynx’s consciousness, waiting to see if he noticed, if he made a sudden bolt for freedom. Donnal could not hold the kit in check the way she could, not with sheer will, but the smaller cat seemed to have transferred some of his dependence to Donnal, seemed willing to be led by the older animal. Thus she could ease away, let up some of her fanatically close attention, relax the cramped grip of her magic.

  It was strange the way the sense of the ordinary world came back to her, in one vivid rush. Suddenly, she became aware of sitting cross-legged on the ground, rocks and sticks pressing into the backs of her legs, her mouth dry with thirst, the smoke of the campfire drifting pleasantly past her cheek. The world smelled like burning wood and decaying leaves and winter. And she had the headache to end all headaches.

  She put her fingers to her temples and rubbed, then massaged behind her ears and along the tops of her shoulders, but she knew this would do no good. She needed to apply pressure in places she couldn’t reach, and even so, the pain was unlikely to go away. Her head felt filled with venom; her spine was a conduit of agony. She closed her eyes briefly and wondered if sleep would help at all.

  When she opened her eyes again, Tayse was kneeling before her.

  “I still don’t understand why Kirra can’t help,” he said.

  At the moment, she thought, it was because Kirra was already asleep. Senneth could make out three wrapped bodies lying motionless beside the fire. Tayse had apparently taken first watch. “I might ask her to, if it’s no better tomorrow,” she said. “But, as she said, it’s not the kind of pain that usually can be eased by magic.”

  “You were rubbing your shoulders. Does that help? Does it help if someone else does that for you?”

  She was so surprised that for a moment she didn’t answer. “Yes—sometimes—a little. What really helps is a much stronger pressure than most people can bring to bear at a couple of points along my back.”

  “Tell me,” he said.

  She looked at him doubtfully for a moment. During this whole trip, he and Justin had been shaving every day or so, certainly when they had access to indoor accommodations, and he had shaved that morning; his face was entirely visible to her. Yet between the flickering of the firelight and the habitual caution of his expression, it was a face that was almost impossible to read. Strong bones, stubborn mouth, watchful black eyes. A quick intelligence, almost feral, honed by the survival skills of mistrust and combat. She was not used to expecting kindness from him. Or perhaps she did not want to come to count on it. He had been kind more than once, in a somewhat begrudging way, as they made their journey so far. She was so sure, if he chose, he could be almost unbearably brutal.

  “Sit behind me,” she said finally, and he moved. She could feel his hands rest lightly on her shoulder blades, waiting for the next direction.

  “It is actually three places at once,” she said. “Two points on the back of my neck, a little behind my ears, and then a place on the very center of my spine.”

  She could feel his left hand moving slowly down the knobs of her backbone, the thumb gliding first over one small lump, then the next. “There,” she said, when he found the place. He pushed in a little as if to make sure. Her breath sounded almost like laughter. “Yes, that’s it.”

  His right hand came up and hooked itself around the back of her neck. His hand seemed so big she thought he could encircle her throat with it; he had no trouble stretching it to reach the two pressure points she described.

  “Yes—that’s right—exactly,” she said. She was on h
er knees, resting back on her heels; now she braced her hands on the tops of her thighs. “Apply as much pressure as you can in all three places, all at once,” she said. “You’ll be afraid that you might hurt me, but you won’t. Unless I scream or something,” she added with an attempt at humor. “But most people can’t push hard enough to really make a difference.”

  “I probably can,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not. “All right. Hold yourself steady.”

  And with no more warning than that, his fingers and thumbs gouged into the centers of pain along her body.

  She had to choke back her first gasp of shock as his hands took hold. She had tried this trick once or twice before, with Kirra or other mystics whom she trusted, and she would get a moment or two of relief before the pain would come rushing back. She was not sure how it worked. It was as if her muscles or her veins or some grid of nerves paved pathways along her spine and up her neck, and troops of relentless torturers marched unimpeded along those roads. A block along any one of those routes could momentarily divert the armies, leave them milling about impotently for a minute or two, till the block was lifted or the soldiers found a way to surmount it.

  Tayse’s hands created dams and bulwarks; the armies of suffering came to a halt and bivouacked. Senneth took two deep breaths, savoring what was at least a temporary cessation of pain. The pressure of his hands was forcing her forward, bending her almost double. She resisted with most of her strength but still could not push herself upright against him. She could feel bruises forming where his fingers dug into her flesh.

  She did not want him to lift his hands.

  “Does this feel right?” Tayse asked.

  “Yes,” she said, gasping out the word. “It feels wonderful.”

  “I’m hurting you,” he said. “You trade one ache for another.”

  “Different kind of hurt,” she managed. “Better.”

  He said nothing more, just held his hands in place, fending off enemies. She did not know how long it would take before the armies grew sullen and wandered off, defeated. No one had ever been able to give her even this much relief in the past.