Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses)

by Sharon Shinn

  “Then Brassenthwaite is a question mark,” Justin said.

  Senneth shook her head. “No. Not if the king declares for magic. Brassenthwaite will not betray the king.”

  “I agree,” Kirra said.

  Justin still looked doubtful, but Tayse pressed on. “All right, then. We’ll say Brassenthwaite and Danalustrous stand with the king. What about the other northern Houses?”

  “Merrenstow will be loyal,” Kirra said. “The king’s first wife came from Merrenstow—it is her daughter they would be fighting for.”

  “And if his daughter is unfit to rule? And a new child of Queen Valri’s is the one fighting for the throne?” Tayse asked.

  Kirra looked worried. “I don’t know.”

  It turned out they didn’t know about most of the Houses. They were pretty quick to put Gisseltess, Nocklyn, and Fortunalt on the list of potential enemies, with Helven likely to ally with other southern leaders, despite Martin Helven’s generally peaceable outlook. The women both liked Ariane Rappengrass and felt certain she would not side with Gisseltess—but admitted that she was badly placed, as she was completely ringed around by potential rebels. Coravann, Kianlever, and Storian could have incentives both ways—and Tilt, they said, was impossible to predict.

  “Though I can tell you one thing,” Kirra said darkly. “Whatever side wins the war will believe Tilt was its ally.”

  “What about the Lirrenlands?” Tayse asked.

  They all looked at Senneth for the answer to that. She thought it over for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t believe the Lirrens will fight,” she said. “Unless they are attacked or in some way threatened. They don’t seem to care much for the concerns of the rest of Gillengaria. If they are left in peace, I think they will merely watch from behind the mountains.”

  “Even if the Lirrens stay neutral, your numbers are not good,” Tayse said. “You have more solidly against the king than for him, and too many who might bend either way.”

  “That might be the information we’ll need to bring back to the king,” Senneth said soberly. “It is time for him to strengthen his alliances now. Make concessions where he must, and make friends where he can.”

  “And decide,” Kirra said slowly, “if he can afford to keep his sorcerous friends. For if he decides not to declare for magic, all the alliances change.”

  “If the war is about magic,” Cammon said.

  Tayse narrowed his eyes and looked at Kirra. “If the war is about the succession instead, and no one opposes mystics, what side would your father take? If Princess Amalie is unfit—or dead—and Queen Valri produces no heir? Who would your father back then?”

  Kirra looked troubled. “I don’t know. It is very hard to say with any certainty what my father will do—unless a member of his family is involved. If it is merely politics—well. I have no idea where he would cast his vote.”

  “Has he even thought about the succession?” Justin asked.

  Kirra gave a little laugh. “My father thinks about everything.”

  They rode on a few moments in silence. “I foresee an interesting year,” Tayse said at last.

  Senneth made a sound that might have been a laugh and might have been something more despairing. “Interesting—and bloody,” she replied. No one else added a word.

  THAT night when they camped, it seemed a good idea to practice swordplay again. Donnal and Cammon were willing, but Senneth merely shook her head when Tayse offered her a practice sword. A few weeks ago, he would have insisted, but he had witnessed what she was capable of; he realized she could defend herself perfectly well without any additional training in blade work.

  Thus he and Justin gave their full attention to the other two men, switching opponents halfway through the session. Donnal was competent and, with consistent practice, might eventually become good, but he would never rise to a higher level than that of ordinary civil guard in the service of some minor noble. Cammon—who had neither the upper body strength nor the experience to be a really gifted swordsman—surprised Tayse now and then with his quickness. In particular, he was excellent at predicting and blocking his adversary’s next moves, so that Tayse rarely broke through his defenses and landed a blow. The few times he did, of course, he could have killed Cammon with ease—but he was impressed by how rarely he managed the feat.

  “You’re using your magic, aren’t you?” Tayse asked once, as they dropped their points to the ground and rested a moment. “You’re reading me to see where I’ll strike next.”

  “I have to,” Cammon admitted. “Or I’d be dead by now. I’m not sure if I can stop even if you tell me to.”

  Tayse grinned and shook his head. “Use every advantage you have, especially if you’re in a fight to the death,” he said. “Your enemy won’t know why you’re so good at evading him. But you’ll have to learn how to land a killing blow now and then or the fight will never end.”

  Even while he talked with Cammon, Tayse surreptitiously watched the women, who were huddled together on Senneth’s blanket and talking very quietly but with much animation. Tayse was very sure that whatever they were discussing was more interesting than his own conversation and probably had more bearing on the ultimate outcome of this mission. He glanced at Cammon, wondering if the young man could catch actual words of distant conversations or merely the emotions and intentions communicated by the people around him.

  He was fairly certain that even if Cammon could hear what Senneth was saying, he wouldn’t repeat it to Tayse, and so he didn’t even ask.

  They all turned in early, Justin taking first watch and handing it over to Tayse after midnight. Tayse made his usual prowling circle around the perimeter, inspecting the horses, pausing every few yards to merely stand and listen to the noises of the night. The ground was hard beneath his feet and, once he passed outside the light of the campfire, the air was bitterly cold. But the weak breeze that fingered his cheek left cool, moist fingerprints against his skin, and that touch spoke of the green promise of spring. If he breathed deeply, he could almost smell the signs—the unclenching of the earth, the unspiraling tendrils of seeds beneath the soil. Not long now. Winter would finally be over.

  He returned to camp, still feeling restless, and made his habitual check of each quiet sleeper. Justin rested on his back, one hand lax upon his dagger. Kirra lay on one side, Donnal curled around her, dark as her own shadow and mimicking her shape just so. Senneth slept with her blankets tossed to either side of her, only her day clothes to protect her from the chill, yet Tayse could feel a pulse of heat rising from her body.

  Cammon stirred and started upright as Tayse leaned over to look at him. “Sorry,” Tayse whispered, straightening. “It’s just me.”

  Cammon shook his head, his eyes wide with concentration. “No—it’s something,” he breathed. “Travelers, I think.”

  “Justin,” Tayse snapped in a low voice, and the other Rider moved smoothly from sleep to a combat crouch almost before the syllables of his name had finished sounding. Cammon leaned over to shake Donnal awake. Donnal gathered himself on all fours, glanced around to see Tayse and Justin arming themselves, and slid into wolf shape even as the others watched.

  They all listened in absolute silence except for the sound of the women breathing. For a second—for an infinitesimal fraction of an unguarded moment—Tayse wanted to leave them sleeping, undisturbed, while he and the other men vanquished whatever danger was headed their way. And then, in the morning, they could point with pride to whatever had menaced them and been disarmed in the night, and say, “See how we have protected you? See how your preciousness is safe with us?”

  Ridiculous. If they had a true fight on their hands, they would need the skills that Senneth and Kirra could contribute.

  He became aware of Donnal’s low growl, of his stiff-legged stance. The heavy black head swung back and forth as he sniffed the air, then he froze, and bared his teeth, and stared fixedly in one direction.

  To the north. Back behind the
m on the trail.

  “How far?” Tayse whispered to Cammon.

  “Not far. A hundred yards, maybe.”

  “We have to wake the women.”

  But Donnal had already dropped his cold nose and was nuzzling Kirra’s cheek. She gasped but made no other sound as she rolled to a seated position. Tayse stepped carefully between the blankets to kneel by Senneth’s side and lifted a hand to shake her shoulder.

  She opened her eyes before he had touched her and looked straight up at him in the half-light of the fire. For a moment he just regarded her, the unreadable eyes, the tousled white hair, the expression on her face that could have been secretive and could have been merely the lingering effects of dreaming. For a moment, he forgot to speak at all.

  “Trouble?” she asked in a very low voice.

  “Riders up the road. From Nocklyn Towers, maybe.”

  She nodded, and the world went dark. That suddenly, the fire disappeared and the cold of the night descended on them all. Briefly, Tayse was blinded; he could not even make out the shapes of his companions around him. He could hear the sounds of Senneth moving, pushing herself first to a crouch and then to her feet, and around him the others made quiet noises. Gradually he could make out their shadows against the blackness of the night.

  “Are they looking for us?” Cammon whispered.

  “Hard to know,” Tayse replied, breathing the words. “We’ve drawn some attention along the way, and we might have made a few enemies. But I’d prefer not to get into a fight.”

  Senneth spoke, her voice as quiet as his. “Cammon. Go keep the horses quiet. Kirra—Donnal. Predator shape, on the other side of the road. Tayse, Justin—stand beside me.”

  “You’ll keep us all invisible?” Justin said, even his whisper managing to sound mocking. “They’ll smell the fire.”

  “Not this fire,” she said.

  It was true, Tayse realized. He had not given it much thought before. Since she could generate heat without benefit of fuel, the usual scents of burning pine and cedar did not hang over their campsite. The horses were down in a small gully, where the travelers had found a circle of winter grass that had served their mounts for a meal. If Cammon could keep them silent—if Donnal and Kirra could disguise themselves as night creatures—if Senneth could conceal the rest of them—the riders might actually pass this camp without noticing it.

  Hushed sounds drifted to his ears as Cammon crept down toward the horses, and Kirra and Donnal padded across the road. Tayse had missed the moment when Kirra transformed herself, but he thought she had taken the shape of a large cat. Not a raelynx, because he didn’t see the characteristic tufts on the ears and backbone. Perhaps the majestic royal lion, the golden beast that served as the king’s emblem, though it hadn’t been seen in Ghosenhall for centuries. Kirra was certainly not above the poetic gesture, even at such a desperate juncture.

  Tayse couldn’t help but smile.

  The smile faded instantly, though, as he caught the sound of oncoming riders. First the quiet clop of shod hooves, then the jingle of bridles, then the occasional whuffle and snort of the horses themselves. It was true; a man on foot could travel much more noiselessly than a man on horseback. But this group was proceeding at an exceedingly stealthy pace. They moved slowly, as if looking for something hidden on either side of the road, and not as if they were in such a hurry to get home that they had made the dangerous decision to travel by night. There was no banter between riders, no random curses or smothered laughs. This was a group of riders on the hunt.

  Tayse felt Senneth’s hand wrap around his wrist and tug him closer. On her other side, Justin crowded nearer as well. Tayse splayed the fingers of his free hand and stared down at them as best he could in the unhelpful moonlight. While he looked at them, they disappeared.

  A few moments later and the riders were passing before them, closely bunched on the road and moving as cautiously as if they expected to fall over a precipice if they took one unwary step. Trying not to breathe, Tayse counted the shapes he could discern in the dark. At least twenty—maybe thirty. There was no way to tell what colors they wore, but their clothes seemed as dark as if they were dressed all in black.

  The lead riders were safely down the road and the back riders were just passing the camp when suddenly a low-voiced halt was called, and the whole column stopped. The nearest horses sidled and stamped their feet. Tayse could hear the riders slapping their hands reassuringly against their horses’ arched necks, but none of the men spoke a word.

  Then a quiet voice carried back from the front ranks. “Wasn’t it here? Just about? Isn’t this where we spotted that campfire?”

  “I would have thought so, but—” A shrug in the voice. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Maybe around the next bend.”

  “That’s what you said fifty yards back.”

  “I would have thought it was here.”

  “Do you want us to break up and comb the sides of the road? Maybe they heard us coming and put out the fire.”

  “I don’t smell a fire.”

  “I thought it was here.”

  The voices went on in a hushed argument. The men in the back ranks sat patiently on their horses, reins dropped, shoulders slumped a little with weariness. Tayse kept his eyes on the nearest soldiers, moving his gaze from one to the next. They were the closest; they would be the first to inflict damage.

  Suddenly, one of the rear soldiers jerked upright in the saddle and yanked on the reins. His horse whinnied with protest and danced backward. The men around him stirred uneasily, one or two admonishing him to be quiet.

  “What was that?” the first soldier demanded. “Did you see that?”

  “No. What? Too dark to see anything. Stop spooking everyone like that.”

  “Over there. Eyes. I swear I saw a wolf ’s eyes.”

  “Well, maybe you did. Plenty of wolves out this time of year. But they won’t attack a party this big, so stop fretting everyone.”

  “It’s too close! If it’s not going to attack, why would it get this close to the road?”

  “Well, maybe it’s—”

  “It’s rabid, that’s what! It’s crazed! It’ll attack anything, ’cause it doesn’t care if it lives or dies!”

  “Will you shut up? There’s no wolf—there’s no attack—and if we aren’t quiet, there’ll be trouble for all of us—”

  “It’s just that I saw something—”

  “Be quiet! Listen for a minute. I’m sure there’s nothing there.”

  Absolute silence fell again over the soldiers’ ranks. They all seemed to be holding their breaths—the soldiers, Tayse, Justin, even Senneth, completely motionless beside him.

  And then out of the profound darkness came the most eerie and disturbing wail that Tayse had ever heard. It started like a woman’s moan and then rose to a high-pitched keen that was suddenly and decisively strangled. Tayse felt every inch of his skin prickle with primitive fear.

  The horses on the road snorted and pawed in a nervous panic. Now the riders lost all hope of silence as they had to calm their mounts and call out cries of “What was that?” to each other. One of the horses bolted forward, and his rider shouted out as he tried to wrestle the animal back in position. A commander from the front of the ranks came trotting back, issuing orders in a furious undervoice. “Silence! Control your mounts! Back in formation and no more commotion from back here!”

  “Sir!” one of the soldiers called out. “Did you hear that? Do you know what it was?”

  “A night predator—probably a cat of some sort,” the officer said in disdain. “Certainly not something that should provoke you all into behaving like the rawest recruits.”

  “That was no ordinary wild cat,” one of the soldiers said positively. “I grew up in Coravann, and my daddy and I hunted in the Lireth mountains, and I’ve heard that sound before.”

  “What was it, then?” someone asked.

  “Raelynx.”

  His companions reacted
with various degrees of horror, shock, and bewilderment—depending, Tayse supposed, on whether or not they’d ever heard of such a creature and had any idea what it could do. The officer was contemptuous.

  “Nonsense. There are no raelynxes in this part of the country. Now get back in formation and be ready to move on out.” He spurred his horse forward, and his shadowy form was quickly lost from view.

  “Guess if anyone was camped here, we’ve scared them off by now,” one of the soldiers said with a flash of humor.

  “Or they got eaten by this—raelynx.” A soft laugh all around.

  “I don’t think there were any riders, anyway. I never saw any campfire. Carles said he could see light, but we were half a mile back. Who could see anything that far?”

  “Lady’s tears, just let me be home and sleeping in a warm bed some night this week,” one of the soldiers begged.

  A barked command from the head of the line made them all fall silent again. Tayse agreed with the soldier. If there had been any campers sleeping along the roadside, they would have woken up by now and scurried off to safety. He could almost breathe freely again. Surely this troop would move on soon.

  He felt Senneth’s hand tighten on his wrist, and then the night was haunted for a second time by that unearthly, disturbing cry. The moan, the shriek, the whole thing abruptly cut off with a garbled choke. Tayse hoped Cammon was having better luck with their own horses because the ones on the road in front of them were drenched in fear. There was a confusion of neighing and rearing—riders’ shouts, horses’ wild grunts—and then four or five animals took off at once, running flat-out for freedom. Moments later it was a stampede as the rest of the horses joined them, and the road became a tangled coil of twisting bodies and pounding hooves. But all the chaos was moving away from them, southward. Five minutes after the revolt started, the road before them was clear. Tayse could still catch echoes of cries and whinnies, but the sounds seemed to be coming from a great distance down the road.

  Cautiously, their own group reassembled. Senneth released her grip on his wrist—and, Tayse supposed, on Justin’s—and Cammon came creeping up from the gully. Kirra and Donnal appeared in human shape, darting across the road. They huddled together before the blackened campfire and spoke in whispers.