Mystic and Rider

by Sharon Shinn

  Well, he would just have to be ready to protect her when her own energy failed.

  She did not seem particularly frail, however, as they lounged around the fire that night after eating their evening meal. She and Cammon sat with their heads close together, rarely talking, seeming to communicate with expressions and gestures. He would hardly be surprised, at this point, to learn they were speaking silently mind to mind, carrying on entire detailed conversations that the rest of them could not overhear. Senneth’s face was its usual serene mask; Cammon’s was furrowed in concentration, and his hands were clenched on his lap. Every once in a while he would sigh and shake his head. Now and then, he would look over at her with a grin of triumph.

  This, Tayse believed, was Senneth teaching Cammon how to control the raelynx. The thought that she could transfer that knowledge was even more unnerving than the thought that she could manage the task herself. Tayse had never thought he was a stupid man, but all his power resided in his hands and his muscles; all his training focused on his body. He could only remotely imagine what it must be like to train the mind in a very different sort of combat, what kinds of exercises must be practiced, what kinds of skills might be honed.

  No wonder Senneth had a headache so much of the time.

  Donnal took first watch, and Tayse slept instantly and deeply. He did not even wake during the night to do his usual circle of the perimeter to make sure all was safe. He had the last watch the two hours before dawn, taking over from Cammon. After rolling out of his blankets, Tayse prowled around the edge of the camp, checking on the horses, who were quiet, and listening to the minatory sounds of the night. Outside the camp, it was bitterly cold; quietly though he moved, the ground crunched with ice under his feet. The moon was gone from overhead, and the stars seemed lost and bewildered, refusing to cohere in familiar constellations. Like his own thoughts, no longer orderly and automatically to be trusted.

  He returned to camp and its sorcerous warmth, sitting with his back to the fire and his gaze toward the outward world. But all his attention was really behind him, on one dreaming form. Even in her sleep, she could control wild creatures and keep a blaze burning so hot it warmed a circle thirty feet wide. Even in her sleep, she could exert a pull on him so powerful he could not turn away. Even in her sleep, she was dangerous.

  Well, he would guard her sleep for as long as it lasted.

  THE next day they arrived in a good-sized market town and gazed about them as if they had drifted, all unaware, into foreign lands. Signposts gave the place the unmelodic name of Neft, and it was situated on the very edge of Nocklyn property.

  At first glance, Neft looked like most of the market towns they had passed through, with a couple of major crossroads thronged with carts, horses, pedestrians, shops, and stalls. Two roads led into the town and were clogged with traffic, but a labyrinth of narrow streets and back alleys offered alternate routes to anyone familiar with the layout. Fanning out from the market center was a network of houses and public buildings, growing progressively smaller and shabbier the farther they were from the main square.

  “Cute little place,” Kirra said, reining up behind Tayse. “Looks like there are a lot of merchants. We can stock up on provisions.”

  Tayse looked back at Senneth. “Where’s your cat?”

  She grinned. “I was just going to ask you. I want to send Cammon ahead, outside the town limits, to sit with the raelynx and wait for us there. Any reason you can think of not to?”

  “The fact that he’s not strong enough to control it?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m still controlling it. Cammon’s reinforcing. But there’s a lot going on here, and I might get distracted. I was just asking you if—”

  He turned away. “Fine. Send them ahead. Probably better.”

  He caught the look she gave Kirra and the shrug she directed at Cammon. The boy was grinning as he turned back, intending to make a wide circle around the outer borders of the town. Of the raelynx, of course, there was no sign. Tayse wondered just how far the wild creature could go before its human overseers lost contact with it. A mile? Five miles? How far away was it now?

  And then Justin, the least sensitive of the lot, said abruptly, “There’s something odd about this place.”

  Senneth gave him a sharp look. “Maybe you saw it when we rode in.”

  “Saw what?”

  “The shrine.”

  She glanced back the way they’d come, and that was when they all noticed it. It was a small stone statue, no higher than a man’s waist, carved from a glowing white stone that seemed phosphorescent here in the weak winter sunlight. Its shape was simple, of a woman in a loose robe, holding a heavy ball before her in both of her hands. The expression on her face was one of worship and ecstasy. At her feet were scattered inexpensive trinkets and a few glittering stones and a handful of pressed flowers. Someone had made a wreath of winter holly and laid it like a crown upon her head.

  “The Pale Mother?” Kirra asked in a low voice.

  Senneth nodded. “And a much-heeded one. You can tell the offerings are fresh.”

  Donnal was glancing around. “The place feels tense.”

  Tayse could sense it, too, and it was clear Justin had already picked up on the emotions. “Like a barracks yard,” Tayse said, “the day before a unit rides off to war.”

  “Maybe we’d better be more careful than usual,” Kirra said.

  Senneth was watching Tayse. “Maybe we need to be more obvious.”

  He gave her an inquiring look. “You think we should wear our insignia? It will call attention to us.”

  “But we’re less likely to be harassed.”

  Kirra seemed undecided. “I would say, let’s see the mood of the town first. Perhaps there’s no reason to be alarmed.” She smiled. “And even if they’re not wearing the king’s gold lions, Tayse and Justin can defend us if trouble arises.”

  Senneth nodded. “All right. Let’s see what’s here. But let’s go dressed appropriately.”

  One by one, except for Senneth, they edged their horses over to Kirra so she could touch some object on their wrists or throats and make it appear to be a moonstone. Senneth pushed back her own sleeves so her heavy bracelet seemed to drip from her hand. Not for the first time, Tayse found himself wondering what kind of effect that bauble had on Senneth’s power. Most mystics seemed genuinely wary of the opalescent stone, and he had seen them start back in pain if one of the gems came too close to their skin, but Senneth seemed completely oblivious to any discomfort from the ring of white jewels.

  But then, even among mystics, Senneth seemed unique.

  They rode slowly forward into the press of people, looking around them with cautious curiosity. What Tayse noticed first was that everyone seemed to be wearing some mark of the Pale Mother—a moonstone collar, a moonstone ring, a cloak embroidered with the silver phases of the moon. The people of Neft didn’t just set up a shrine to the Pale Mother; they embraced her in their daily lives.

  “Good thing we don’t plan to spend the night here,” Kirra observed. Tayse glanced around, wondering what had prompted the remark, but it was still a moment before he noticed. And then he saw, hanging above the doorway in a nearby tavern: a huge round rock of a moonstone, dangling just about at head height. A man would have to duck to avoid brushing it as he stepped inside for a drink.

  And a man who ducked away from the touch of the goddess? He might be considered suspect.

  Tayse lifted his gaze to inspect the other shops and houses lining this crowded boulevard. Not every establishment boasted a moonstone over the threshold, but many private homes had them hanging in the windows, just inside the lace of the curtains. More than one house featured its own tiny shrine out front, and a few public buildings flew three flags from their brass poles: the lion-splashed standard of Gillengaria, the pennant of Nocklyn with its spray of wheat against an ocher field, and the flag of the Pale Mother, a black background with a silver moon.

  “We’re v
ery close to the Lumanen Convent here,” Kirra said. “No wonder there is so much sentiment in favor of the Silver Lady.”

  “And look,” Senneth said in a cool voice, “some of her converts are visiting for the day.”

  And, indeed, before them they suddenly saw the reason that the streets of Neft were so crowded. There were maybe a dozen young girls, all dressed in pristine white robes, standing in the middle of the road, blocking the way of travelers in all directions. None of them looked to be more than seventeen or eighteen, and on their sweet, half-formed faces were expressions of passionate purity. They approached each individual rider or driver, hands upheld, offering the blessing of the goddess on this fine winter day. As Tayse watched, two or three riders jerked their horses away from those uplifted hands and rode around, but most stopped, and held out their hands, and stayed a moment, palm to palm, with these messengers of the Pale Mother.

  Each of the young women wore a moonstone ring that touched the flesh of every person she blessed.

  “Senneth,” Kirra said softly.

  “Can you stand the contact for a moment?” Senneth replied in an equally quiet voice. “Knowing it is coming, and not wince away?”

  “I don’t think I can,” Donnal said.

  Tayse had spotted something else, so carefully placed that until now it had eluded his notice. A contingent of guards ringing the whole market square—two or three here, three or four there—closely scrutinizing everyone who traveled through. “Now is not the time to appear afraid of the Pale Lady,” Tayse said. “Unless I miss my guess, those are some of her champions lying in wait, watching to see who pulls back in pain at the touch of the goddess’s hand.”

  “Witch hunt,” Kirra said. “We rode right into it.”

  “All right,” Senneth said. “I’ll go in the lead. Kirra and Donnal in the middle. Tayse and Justin to either side of them. Kirra, Donnal, pull your hoods up to cover your faces. If I say something that gives you some direction, you might change your features to match my words. Nobody else speak.”

  They deployed as she had commanded and followed her as she made her way slowly forward through the bunched crowd. They had only traveled another twenty yards or so before they were approached by a duo of the young girls in white. Tayse supposed they were recent converts to the goddess who as part of their training went out into the public towns to proclaim their faith.

  They stopped, one on either side of Senneth, their eyes shining, their hands upraised. “Joyous morning to you, fair sister,” one of them greeted Senneth in an exuberant voice. “May we share with you today the blessing of our most gracious lady?”

  “A pleasant morning to you as well,” Senneth said. “Who are you, can you tell me? I’ve not seen women dressed like you in any of the towns I’ve visited.”

  “We’re novices at the Lumanen Convent, studying the ways of the Pale Mother and carrying her glad news throughout Gillengaria,” one of the girls said.

  “Daughters of the Pale Mother,” Senneth said, her voice admiring. “And you live at some convent? Is it nearby? I’ve never heard of such a place.”

  “It has been open just a few years after nearly a century of neglect,” said the other girl. Their voices were nearly indistinguishable to Tayse, dreamy and soft; he could only tell who spoke by watching the motion of their mouths. “It is a beautiful place. You are welcome to come visit.”

  “Really? Well, I would be curious to see it, I admit. How many of you live there?”

  The girls exchanged glances. “Hundreds,” the first one replied. “I don’t know the number.”

  “And you learn—what?”

  “The ways of the goddess,” the second one said. “Of her great bounty and her great power and how to do her will.”

  “She lights the stars and guards the night and sees into the hearts of all men and women,” the second one intoned.

  Tayse wasn’t much impressed by the philosophy, but he was deeply impressed by the light of fanaticism on their faces. Someone who believed in a cause could be just as dangerous as someone with a weapon—and these believers were backed by swordsmen. Trying not to be obvious about it, he glanced around him again to see how many of the guards were close to them and if any were paying attention to his small group.

  Two. And yes.

  “How often do you leave your convent to spread word of the Pale Mother’s goodness?” Senneth was asking.

  “We have just begun to proselytize, and we have not gone far from our home,” said the second girl. “But soon the Daughters will go north and east and west, to all corners of Gillengaria, to tell the news.”

  “I fear you may have your work cut out for you in Kianlever and Brassenthwaite and Danalustrous,” Senneth said. “In those parts, they don’t seem to think a great deal about the Silver Lady.”

  “They will,” the first one said tranquilly. “Very soon.”

  Senneth gathered her reins tighter in her hand. “Well, I’ll think of your words as I travel,” she said, and made as if to ride on.

  But the girls, appearing all innocent, blocked her way. The first one said, “Won’t you please give me your hand so I can share the blessing of the Pale Mother with you?” Her hand was already up, palm toward Senneth. Tayse thought the nearest soldiers looked even more interested.

  Not hesitating at all, Senneth leaned from the saddle and pressed her hand against the Daughter’s. Her moonstone bracelet slid forward on her wrist and brushed against the novice’s arm.

  “Your skin is so hot,” the girl observed, her voice concerned. “Are you ill? Should you perhaps pull over for a day and rest?”

  Tayse straightened in his saddle and waited for Senneth’s response.

  “Am I warm?” Senneth said, just a shade of worry in her voice. “I hope I have not caught the fever.”

  “The fever?” one of the girls said.

  Senneth motioned with her head. “My two companions. They have been sick for days. I am trying to get them home where they can be cared for, and there have been many delays on the road.”

  Now the novices’ attention turned to the others in their group. “Ah,” said one, “we wondered why they were wrapped so closely on such a sunny day. Let us give them, too, the blessing of the goddess, and offer them her healing strength.”

  “No,” said Senneth sharply. “I do not know how contagious this fever is, and I will not be responsible for introducing illness into a convent of several hundred women. You cannot touch them—it is not safe.”

  “The Silver Lady fears no fever,” one girl said softly.

  “But I do, and it is my conscience that must be answered to,” Senneth said. “My guards would happily take your blessings, however, and my friends would be grateful for your prayers.”

  “May we see their faces?” one of the girls asked. “So we know for whom we pray?”

  “Certainly,” Senneth replied, and turned in her saddle to nod at the two riding behind her.

  Kirra reached up a shaky hand and pulled the hood back from her head. Tayse had to admire her handiwork. Her face was pallid and dull, her eyes watery and red, and her glorious hair hung limp and brown to her shoulders. She put a hand across her mouth before speaking, as if to keep from breathing infection on her well-wishers.

  “Please,” she croaked. “Do not get too close.”

  “The Pale Mother spreads you with her benediction,” one of the girls said solemnly. “We will pray that you will soon be well.”

  “Thank you,” Kirra whispered.

  Donnal also tugged off his hood to reveal a face as ravaged as Kirra’s. He did not even try to speak, just made an effort to control his labored breathing, and nodded as they spoke their words over him. Then both of them rewrapped their faces.

  “Thank you for your concern,” Senneth said gravely.

  The women moved over a few paces, one turning toward Tayse, one to Justin. “The blessings of the Pale Mother upon you,” they murmured, holding up their hands. Tayse pressed his palm against the
novice closest to him and saw Justin do the same.

  “Many thanks,” Tayse said.

  “Much appreciated,” Justin added.

  “We must ride on,” Senneth said. “May the Silver Lady guard you both.”

  And, in no apparent hurry, she nudged her horse forward again and began to pick through the crowd. Once clear of the knot of Daughters, they were able to move more rapidly. Tayse was ready to draw a breath of relief as they reached the edge of the market square.

  Where three guards were blocking their way.

  Senneth pulled to an abrupt halt, her horse snorting and dancing under her. Tayse moved up alongside her, and Justin came up on Tayse’s other side. Tayse quickly took in details of the men before them. All appeared to be in their early thirties or forties, clean-shaven, well-muscled, intensely serious. They had as many weapons strapped to their waists and saddles as the Riders had, and they were dressed in the black and silver colors of the Pale Mother.

  All three of them looked as much like zealots as the novices bestowing blessings on chance wayfarers.

  “Greetings, travelers,” said the middle guard in a civil voice. He looked to be the oldest of the three. His dark hair was worn short, and there was a battle scar across his chin. Holding his black cloak to his shoulder was an ornately wrought silver clasp of a falcon holding a flower in its talons.

  The Gisseltess crest.

  “Greetings,” Senneth replied in a neutral voice. “Is there some reason you will not let us pass?”

  “You talked for some time with the Daughters in the market square,” he replied. “And yet you ride on in apparent haste with two members of your party hiding their faces. I was wondering what tale you told them and what trouble makes you move so fast?”

  “The two who hide their faces are ill, and we are in a hurry to get them home,” Senneth said, her voice just a shade combative. “Does this somehow fail to meet your approval?”

  “If they’re ill, perhaps they should stay in town and be tended by healers or the Daughters themselves,” the guard suggested.