by Sharon Shinn
He was confused. “Why?”
She glanced at him, and her eyes looked almost feverish. “She is the child of the Bright Mother,” Kirra said quietly. “The Red Lady loves her. See? We should be in shadow even now, but sunlight falls on Senneth’s face. As long as the sun is in the sky, I believe Senneth will gain some strength from the goddess. But when the sun goes down and the Pale Lady rises—I don’t know. I don’t know what happens then.”
Tayse felt his fear flare up again, as if fresh fuel had been tossed on a slumbering coal. “She—but then she—what can we do? How can we protect her?”
Kirra nodded to the flames leaping nearby. “Fire will help. We have to keep it burning all night. Maybe a ring of candles as close to her body as we dare.”
Tayse’s mind was racing. “What about—are there amulets that the Bright Mother prizes? If the moonstones give power to the Daughters of the Pale Mother, what would give power to Senneth?”
Kirra looked thoughtful. “I don’t know—I know so little about the Bright Mother—about any of the gods except the Silver Lady. Senneth wears that golden charm, you know—does it lend her any power? I don’t know. It might.”
Tayse rose to his feet. “Gold, then. Let us see what we can find.”
It was a reason to go through the bodies, after all, though Tayse suspected few of the soldiers would bedeck themselves with a metal antithetical to their goddess. Still, as he’d hoped, a couple of them wore small gold rings—wedding bands or House signets—and a few of them carried gold coins in their pockets. One of them had a sword hilt wrapped in gold, but it was overlaid with a filigree of silver and set with moonstones, so there was no point in bringing that back to lay at Senneth’s side. Justin found one fallen soldier with a belt buckle cast in gold; Tayse found another with a thin gold chain around his neck. It was hung with a tiny charm that looked like a flower—a gift from a lady friend, no doubt.
“Will this be enough, do you think?” Justin asked, looking at their paltry haul.
“It will have to be,” Tayse said, “unless you are concealing any gold jewelry on your own person. I can’t think Cammon is, since he has no possessions at all, and Kirra and Donnal would have spoken up by now.”
Justin laughed. “No,” he said. “I do not own a single gem, a single rope of jewelry. It never seemed worth the investment.”
Tayse had stood, but now he was surveying the plundered bodies nearest to him. “I wonder,” he said, “how far the influence of the moonstones extends. Perhaps if we gather all the moonstones and carry them a mile or so from camp—perhaps that would do some good.”
“We may as well,” Justin said. “We have to do something.”
Since there was nothing else to do but wait.
Kirra accepted the gift of gold somewhat gingerly, but wasted no time wrapping the gold chain around Senneth’s wrist and tucking gold coins into the tops of her socks. Tayse watched to see if the fire would shoot up again, but it remained unmoved by Senneth’s new bounty. Perhaps the talismans would do no good at all. But Tayse felt heartened by making the effort.
“What can I do now?” he asked.
Kirra shook her head. “Sleep.”
“I don’t think I can. Ever again.”
A half smile for that. “You will have to. Sometime. And I think I’ll need you in the night. So you should sleep now so that you’re strong enough to help later.”
Bitter advice, but absolutely realistic. He had given the same orders to young recruits out on difficult missions. “How shall we split the watches tonight?” he asked. “Two to guard, two to sleep, I suppose. Cammon and Donnal obviously must serve in opposite shifts, and so must Justin and I.”
“Cammon is exhausted,” she said. “He should sleep now, too, so he can take the midnight watch with you.”
He tried to make a joke of it. “Justin and Donnal are not best suited for a partnership.”
“Justin and Donnal will be fine,” she said. She was so tired she didn’t even smile.
“When will you sleep?” he asked.
“When I can no longer keep my eyes open.”
Tayse’s gaze went to the other side of the stream, where the raelynx lay motionless. “What happens to that creature while Cammon is dreaming?” he asked. “Can he control it in his sleep?”
Kirra gave a hollow laugh. “Let us hope so,” she said. “Senneth could.”
“He’s not Senneth.”
She spread her hands. “I don’t think we have any other options.” Reluctantly he nodded. “Is there anything I can do for you now?”
“No. Just rest so you can help me later.”
He fetched Cammon, who protested at first, but who finally agreed to rest while he could. When Tayse asked if he could monitor the raelynx in his sleep, Cammon said, “Of course,” in an absent voice. Tayse figured there was nothing he could do about it if Cammon’s self-confidence was misplaced. The two of them ate a cold and hasty meal, then rolled themselves into their blankets on the other side of the fire from where Kirra sat with Senneth.
It was an old campaigner’s trick, the ability to fall asleep at any time, under any circumstances. Tayse had learned it long ago, but he was not sure he would be able to force his body, this time, to comply with his wishes. To let himself sleep while Senneth lay a few feet away, fighting for her life—it seemed criminal, it seemed obscene.
Even more unforgivable would be to find himself so exhausted he could not aid her if the need arose. He closed his eyes and willed his mind to shut down, his breathing to slow. He summoned darkness, and darkness came.
It was full night when he woke again, suddenly and completely, assessing before he even sat up what time it was, how the situation lay around him. Probably an hour or so before midnight; the air seemed dense with cold, and the stars had progressed only so far in their journey across the sky. Someone was bending over the campfire, prodding at a log. Justin, keeping the fire burning.
Tayse stood and prowled immediately to the other side of the fire. Senneth lay stretched in front of it so that her face, her torso, the whole front of her body were exposed to the flames. Donnal lay against her back, a woolly bear whose body heat had to be considerable. He lifted his black head from his outstretched paws as Tayse came around the fire. Kirra sat cross-legged at Senneth’s feet, her elbows resting on her knees, her chin on her fists. She appeared to be dozing, but she opened her eyes when Tayse stepped closer.
“How is she?” he asked.
“No different. No worse, anyway. She seems to be sleeping.”
“Time for you to sleep, then.”
She nodded. “Donnal can stay beside her to keep her warm.”
“I’ll do that,” Tayse said.
She nodded again, too weary to argue. “I’ll wake Cammon.”
In a few moments, the camp had redistributed itself. Justin appeared to fall instantly asleep on the blankets still warm from Tayse’s body. Kirra lay a few feet away from him, Donnal curled up next to her, still in the guise of a bear. Cammon sat with his back to the fire, his eyes fixed on the road leading toward the convent.
Tayse lay on the blanket spread beneath Senneth and brought his big body in close to hers. He slid one arm oh-so-gently beneath her head, then brought it up to cross her chest; he draped the other across her hip. The bend of her knees fit over the bend of his. He could feel the heat of his body pouring itself into her—or else he was willing the transfer so mightily that he simply imagined the sensation of strength streaming from his body and filling her empty veins with his own life and vigor.
During the next six hours, there was very little movement in the camp. Cammon rose every half hour or so to patrol the perimeter—a trick he had to have picked up from watching Tayse take his turn at watch. The others shifted position now and then, and twice, when Kirra woke, she sat up to gaze across the fire.
“How’s Senneth?” she asked each time.
“The same. Her breathing is a little ragged, but steady. She doesn’t s
eem quite so cold. But she has moved very little, and she hasn’t spoken at all.”
“Wake me if there’s a change.”
“I will.”
But when the change came, he didn’t.
It was very late in the night, so late it was almost dawn, and Cammon was off on one of his periodic excursions. Tayse was lying with his body absolutely relaxed, but his mind completely engaged, imagining—as he so often did—what moves he would make, what weapons he would use, if enemies suddenly came charging at him. His sword was inches away from him on the ground, sheathed; he had a knife tucked inside each boot. He would make a good accounting of himself even if he was on foot and his opponents were on horseback. He could disable the horses, of course—he hated to do that, but it might become necessary—
And then Senneth stirred in his arms.
His whole body tensed, but he did not speak, in case this was just some sleeper’s unthinking stretch. But then she moved again, seeming to roll her shoulders in an experimental shrug. He felt her hands lift and fasten themselves on his own arm, laid like a bar across her chest.
“Tayse?” she said, her voice very faint.
There was no way she could see him, could tell by any of her human senses who pressed against her, feeding her warmth. He felt his spine tingle with disquiet even as his arms tightened around her. “Yes,” he whispered. “How are you feeling?”
“Awful,” was the reply. “But—I think, not fatally awful.”
“We’ve been very worried.”
She seemed to think a minute, perhaps trying to reconstruct what had happened to put her in this plight. “Are the soldiers dead?” she asked next. Clearly she remembered most of it.
“Yes. And all of us—but you—unharmed.”
“She said she wouldn’t send anyone after us. She lied.”
“I imagine she often does.”
“Where are we?”
“Near the streambed where you fell.”
A wince for that, as if she wanted to start upright but didn’t have the strength. “We can’t be safe here.”
“When you’re strong enough, we’ll move.”
“Has Donnal left for Gisseltess?”
He couldn’t stop a very small laugh. “No, we thought we’d wait to see if you lived before we set up meetings in Lochau.”
“I was careless.”
“We were all careless. Cammon is blaming himself—I am bitterly certain I am the one at fault—”
“Not you,” she said, and her voice was so drowsy it was clear she would not be able to sustain this burst of energy much longer. “You have always taken such good care of me.”
“I was commanded to do so by my king,” he said, his voice rough.
If she had had the strength, the sound she made then would have been a laugh. “That’s not why you do it,” she breathed.
He had no reply to make to that, and she was silent for so long that he thought she had fallen back to sleep. Then he felt a shiver of movement run through her muscles again. “Tayse,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“Don’t leave me.”
As if he would. As if the thought would cross his mind for an instant. As if he could. “No,” he said. “I’ll stay right here.”
After that, almost instantly, she did fall asleep. He could feel her ribs expand and contract, ever so slightly, with her regular breathing. Cammon returned from his circuit and came to crouch beside him, just inside the circle of firelight.
“She woke up, didn’t she?” Cammon asked. “How is she?”
Impossible to try to conceal things from this young man. Tayse pitied the woman who ever fell in love with him and then tried to deceive him. “Lucid. But weak.”
“That’s a good sign, though, isn’t it? That she could talk?”
“Could you actually hear what we said?” Tayse demanded, keeping his voice very low but unable to completely hide his irritation.
Cammon was grinning. “Not the words. I could just tell that she was conscious. And speaking. But that’s good, isn’t it?”
“We’ll see come dawn,” Tayse replied. “But I think it’s good.”
KIRRA was the first one awake in the morning, stepping over the sleeping bodies to make it to Senneth’s side. “How is she?” she asked, kneeling.
Those were the only words any of them seemed able to utter, Tayse thought. “Stable, I think. Sleeping. She woke up in the middle of the night and spoke a few words.”
“She did? Wonderful!” Kirra exclaimed.
“But she’s sleeping now.”
“When she wakes up again, we’ll have to see if we can get her to eat something.”
“And maybe get her out of these bloody clothes,” Tayse suggested.
Kirra grimaced. “Yes. I should have done that yesterday.”
Before any of them could say more, Donnal and Justin stirred, and Cammon reappeared from making his last sweep around the perimeter. The next thirty minutes consisted of everyone asking about Senneth, comparing notes, eating a quick meal, and rearranging themselves for the next six-hour shift. Cammon lay down and was almost instantly asleep. Justin was across the river, investigating the possibility of setting a trap or two. Donnal, now in wolf shape, was sitting by the fire, mouth half open, watching Kirra.
“You should be sleeping, too,” she said to Tayse.
“I will. In a few minutes. I just want to see if there’s anything I can do to help you with Senneth.”
Kirra glanced at Donnal, so close, and Justin, too far away to hear. “If you’ll prop her up for me while I change her clothes—you have to promise to be a gentleman, though, and not look—I’ll make Donnal go sit somewhere else—”
In spite of everything, Tayse found himself grinning. “From what I’ve seen of the men of the Twelve Houses, being a gentleman doesn’t necessarily mean displaying great honor,” he said. “But I will turn my eyes away while you undress her.”
Donnal’s broad mouth widened into what had to be a lupine smile, but he rose to his four feet and trotted away from the fire. Kirra poured water into a pan and added a rag to soak. Then she leaned down and put her hands on either side of Senneth’s face.
“Sen. Are you awake? Sen? I want to clean you up a little, so we’re going to be moving you. If it gets too painful, let me know, and we’ll stop.”
“I’m—awake,” the whisper came back faintly.
Kirra’s face lit with delight. She clasped her hands to her chest like a little girl excited over a gift. “How are you feeling? Are you stronger? Do you hurt?”
“I feel—pretty bad,” Senneth replied. “My chest hurts.”
“That’s from the arrow,” Kirra said dryly.
“But—better than last night. A little.”
“Good. We’re going to clean you up, and then I’m going to try to feed you. All right?”
“All—right.”
“Tayse is going to help,” Kirra added inconsequentially.
Senneth turned her head slightly so she could see Tayse’s face, but she didn’t say anything. Kirra was quickly all business. “Tayse—if you’ll lift her up and brace her so that I can get this shirt off—good—”
It was a delicate and awkward maneuver, Tayse found, to strip a woman of her bloody clothing, and wipe her flesh clean, and bind a new bandage around her chest. He did only what Kirra told him, supporting Senneth’s weight against his chest, lifting her when instructed and then letting her settle back against him. Senneth remained more or less awake the entire time, for she gave little moans of pain now and then, and once whispered, “Thank you,” but she mostly kept her eyes closed and did not speak. Kirra moved swiftly and competently, leading Tayse to wonder how many of her nursing skills were magical and how many had been learned through training. Soon enough Senneth was in a fresh bandage and a clean shirt, lying against Tayse’s chest and taking slow, ragged breaths.
“Good. You’re still awake,” Kirra said, though Tayse could not see Senneth’s face to jud
ge if her eyes were open. “Can you eat something? Some broth? At least drink some water?”
“I think so,” Senneth breathed.
Kirra leaned toward the fire to fetch a metal mug that had been heating all this time. “Just a little, just at first,” she said. “We’ll see how well you do.”
Also awkward was the act of feeding an invalid, because some of the soup sloshed from the spoon straight onto the clean shirt, and some of it dribbled down Senneth’s chin. But most of it went in her mouth, and Tayse could tell by Kirra’s expression that she was pleased.
“Now have some water and then we’ll let you lie down again,” she said, holding a container to Senneth’s mouth.
Tayse picked up one of the cleaner rags that Kirra had used to remove the blood from Senneth’s body. As soon as Kirra lowered the bottle, he started wiping at Senneth’s mouth and throat, chasing the droplets of broth down her neck and into the V of the fresh shirt. He had to push aside her gold amulet to clean the hollow of her throat. He could see a darker stain just below the top button, and he dabbed at it ineffectually, trying to reach it without compromising Senneth’s dignity.
“Did I leave a bloodstain?” Kirra asked, returning her attention to him. “Here—let me unbutton the shirt a little—”
And she did, and Tayse swiped at the blot again, but again it would not come off on the damp rag. He leaned closer to see what it might be—another wound, perhaps, that they had missed because of their focus on the arrow’s path—and saw a small, raised patch of reddish skin. It was positioned just above and perfectly between her breasts, exactly where a pendant might fall if Senneth were wearing jewelry for a formal ball.
It was a brand.
A housemark.
Tayse kept his eyes on the symbol of power and prestige while the world rocked around him like a shaken toy. He could feel Senneth’s weight against his shoulder, could feel the texture of the wet cloth in his hand. He knew that Kirra’s gaze had lifted from the housemark to his face and that Senneth’s own eyes were probably closed with resignation. But he could not move. He could not speak. He could not take it in.
A housemark. The brand of one of the Twelve Houses. She was one of the highest-ranking noblewomen in the country. He loved her and he did not want to love her, but it did not matter if he did or if he did not: She was not for him, never would have been, had he declared himself that night she kissed him or last night when she woke in his arms or at some point farther down the road when he was no longer able to keep his secret to himself.