by Sharon Shinn
“I very much like being married,” Mayva said. “Maybe I should help you find a husband.”
“Do you have anyone in mind?” Kirra said. “I warn you, I can be very picky.”
Mayva seemed to be thinking. “Let’s see . . . Lowell has a cousin who’s handsome and very easygoing. You might like him. He’s Thirteenth House, but he has very fine property in Gisseltess.”
“But I can’t marry a Gisseltess man,” Kirra objected. “You could hardly get farther from Danalustrous, and I will want to spend much of my time at home.”
“Maybe someone from Kianlever or Coravann,” Mayva said. “Kianlever is close to Ghosenhall, you know, so you’d be going to the royal palace all the time. You’d like that. But, again, the only ones I can think of are Thirteenth House, and you might not care to marry so far from your station.”
“Well, my mother was Thirteenth House, so I don’t know that I can be too particular on that score,” Kirra replied.
Mayva was still mulling over bloodlines. “In fact, there are so few marriageable men among the Twelve Houses—well, Darryn Rappengrass, but he—” Mayva shrugged.
“Now, I like ser Darryn,” Kirra said, failing to mention she’d encountered him on the road a couple of weeks ago. “A little frivolous, perhaps, but he seems like a pleasant man to be around.”
“Yes, but to have Ariane as a mother-in-law—” Mayva shuddered. “She controls him completely. You’d end up doing whatever she wanted, and, well, frankly, her politics don’t always please me.”
“You mean, they don’t please Lowell,” Kirra said coyly.
Mayva laughed. “Well, you’re right! He hates Ariane Rappengrass, says she absolutely cannot be trusted. I always liked her well enough before, but I do understand what he’s saying. I mean, politics are so much more important than personality, don’t you think?”
“Sometimes personality predicts politics,” Kirra said. Tayse was fairly certain the subtlety was lost on their visitor.
“Let’s see, who else . . . well, of course, there are several young men to choose from among the Brassenthwaites, but you could never marry there,” Mayva said.
“Why not? Brassenthwaite and Danalustrous have ties that go back a long way.”
Mayva gave an artificial laugh. “Kirra! My dear! Nate Brassenthwaite is an utter boor, but that’s not the worst of it! His brother Kiernan has been posturing all up and down Gillengaria, claiming to be from the only House truly loyal to the king. Lowell hates all the men of Brassenthwaite, hates them, says if there’s ever civil war between Houses he will choose whatever side Brassenthwaite does not.”
“But Mayva,” Kirra said, all wide-eyed, “why would there be civil war? What have you heard?”
Mayva responded with an elaborate shrug, rolling her shoulders, spreading her hands, and casting her eyes upward. “All they talk about,” she said, “at my father’s house, all they talk about is war. The king won’t do this so they refuse to do that. The southern Houses don’t like that, so they’re going to do this instead. I don’t understand it. I always thought everybody liked King Baryn. But Lowell keeps saying the power is slipping through his fingers—that he’s not strong enough to hold on to it much longer. I don’t know. Everywhere I look, I see soldiers. I thought maybe it was the same in the northern Houses. But you look so astonished that I suppose it isn’t.”
Kirra seemed to pull herself together with an effort. “If it is, my father didn’t mention it. And I didn’t notice it. When I return, I’ll have to ask my father—”
Mayva leaned forward and interrupted. “Ask your father to remember his past friendships with Nocklyn and Gisseltess,” she said earnestly. “Lowell told me to mention that as soon as he heard I was coming to see you. Nocklyn has always been good to Danalustrous. We will need allies among the northern Houses.”
He probably hoped you would phrase that a bit more cleverly, Tayse thought, for the sentiment could hardly have been more baldly offered. But perhaps this Lowell thought Kirra was just as dim-witted as his wife, and so he didn’t think to school her in how to speak.
Kirra was still managing the wide-eyed and ingenuous act. “Do you know—for I’m sure my father will ask me—who else is allied with Nocklyn and Gisseltess?”
Mayva waved a hand. “Fortunalt. Lowell seems very sure of Rayson. I think he is hopeful about Coravann but not so certain of Kianlever. Well, it sits so close to Brassenthwaite, he says—that would be the first House Kiernan would look to if he were trying to crush a rebellion.”
“I still don’t understand,” Kirra complained. “A rebellion? Over what? As you said, I thought everybody liked the king.”
“It’s the succession,” Mayva said. “The king is old, and his daughter is—well—where is she? If she was fit to rule, wouldn’t we have seen something of her by now? And if she is not fit to rule, has the king married this strange young woman in order to have another heir? But what if he dies a year from now? Are we to wait for a baby to grow up and be ruler to us all? Lowell says no.” Mayva shrugged again. “I don’t know.”
Kirra appeared to be thinking hard. “Say the new queen had a baby and the king died a year later. Couldn’t he appoint a regent? Isn’t there someone all the Houses could agree on?”
“I don’t know,” Mayva said again. “Who?”
“Say Princess Amalie is fit to rule,” Kirra said, obviously still thinking through it. “She’s only seventeen now, isn’t she? There would still probably be a regent if the king were to die. He must have thought of that already—he must have someone in mind.”
“Well, I’ve never heard Lowell talk about that,” Mayva said doubtfully. “I don’t think he likes the idea of regents.”
“And the king may live another twenty years,” Kirra added. “To be planning for his death like this—well—I don’t like the way that sounds, Mayva, I have to be honest. It smacks of—disloyalty.”
A risky comment to make, Tayse thought. Mayva’s dark brows drew down in a frown, and her full mouth turned even more sulky. “You can’t think that Lowell would do anything traitorous,” Mayva said. “All he cares about is the well-being of the kingdom. We can’t let an old king fail to provide for our future.”
“But we can’t assume he hasn’t made those provisions,” Kirra said. With every word she seemed to be throwing off her simpering mask and assuming more of her true personality. Tayse could only suppose that she figured she had already learned anything Mayva might have to impart and did not feel like keeping up the pretense any longer. “It seems to me that instead of puffing themselves up on war talk, the southern Houses ought to send a delegation to Ghosenhall and ask the king some of these very questions. Why is that so unreasonable?”
“Oh, and I suppose that’s what your father will do,” Mayva said.
“Would do, if he was worried about the succession,” Kirra said flatly.
Mayva was gathering up her gloves and hat and other small items she’d carried in with her. “Then I suppose I won’t have good news for Lowell after all when I get home,” she said. “Danalustrous won’t side with the southern Houses if there is war.”
Kirra came to her feet just as the Nocklyn woman did. “Mayva,” Kirra said, her voice very serious. “I hope with all my heart there isn’t war. I can think of nothing more terrible for the southern Houses or the northern ones. I can’t tell you what side my father would take because no one can ever predict what my father will do. But you can tell Lowell that Danalustrous will always remember its past friendship with Nocklyn, and that we hope that friendship always remains strong. We have no wish to see a rift between our Houses. I hope there is no war that could bring such a calamity about.”
The words had the effect of melting Mayva’s pout and causing her to throw herself into Kirra’s arms. “No—no—you and I shall be friends forever,” she promised, laying her dark hair against the gold. “But I am very uneasy, Kirra. I think sometimes men make plans that women don’t understand and can’t undo.”
Kirra hugged her for a moment, then released her and stepped back. Her eyes were shadowed. “Sometimes women nurse dark secrets as well,” she said. “I will not say that men are the only villains.”
Mayva laughed and pulled on her gloves. “No! And what Lowell would say if he thought I’d called him a villain! I’m so glad you stopped by, Kirra—even though this conversation has been so strange. I hope I will see you again sometime—when things make more sense.”
“Yes,” Kirra said softly, “and may that day come soon.”
She said nothing else as Mayva made her way to the door, which her groom opened for her, or as the small party filed out into the hallway. Justin closed the door behind them, and they all listened in silence to the sound of their progress down the hall.
Then Kirra pivoted slowly to look at Senneth, still sitting by the window with her eyes downcast. It was not her habitual pose; Tayse wondered why she would not have thrown off the docile disguise the instant Mayva Nocklyn stepped into the corridor.
“Well?” Kirra demanded. “Nothing new, of course, but chilling nonetheless.”
“She’s the stupidest woman I’ve ever seen,” Justin commented.
“She’s average for her rank and station,” Kirra shot back at him over her shoulder. She was still watching Senneth.
Justin made a small, ironic bow toward Kirra, who couldn’t see him. “Then you must be extraordinary,” he said.
“Sen?” Kirra said. “What do you think?”
When Senneth finally lifted her face, she showed an absolutely masklike expression. “I think Justin’s right,” she said. “You’re extraordinary.”
Kirra stamped her foot. “That’s not what I meant.”
Senneth shook her head. “I think Mayva said it best. Men are making plans that none of us will be able to undo. And you said it well: Why are they not seeking a council with the king? We need to go back to Ghosenhall with some speed and lay that proposition before Baryn.”
Kirra looked uncertain. “Before going on to Gisseltess?”
“I hardly think we will learn anything in Gisseltess that we don’t already know,” Senneth said, sounding unutterably weary, “but somehow I think we have to take a look at Halchon Gisseltess for ourselves to be able to make a full report.”
“Then,” said Tayse, “let’s start for the south tonight. Waste no more time here.”
Senneth glanced his way. “Yes. Let’s pack and be gone within the hour.”
The proprietor was astonished at their abrupt departure, begging to be told it was not the accommodations that were inadequate, but Kirra told him in the coolest possible voice that everything had been exactly to her specifications. “But I have received news,” she said in a firm voice. “And I cannot linger. I will see you again, I hope, when I return this way.”
Justin fetched their horses, and they pushed out into the press of traffic. They hadn’t gone more than half a mile when Kirra said, with almost as much petulance as Mayva might be able to muster, “Damn it, I’m hungry. We should have stayed for dinner.”
“There are vendors along the way,” Justin said with a grin. “We can eat as we ride.”
“Oh, yes, that suits my notions of elegance,” Kirra said. But when Justin plunged off the street to pick up four roasted chickens on wooden skewers, she ate happily along with the rest of them and even praised the quality of the cooking.
“It’ll be dark soon,” Tayse observed. “We won’t get far.”
“We won’t get anywhere if we have to hunt for Donnal and Cammon,” Justin said.
Tayse looked over at him with a grin. “How much would you like to wager that they’re loitering in the road, half a mile from the gate, waiting for us already?”
Justin laughed. “Not a copper, thank you. But it will be interesting to see if they are.”
They were. Tayse collected them with a wave, and then the whole party turned south into the gathering dusk, on the well-traveled road to Gisseltess.
CHAPTER 23
GISSELTESS was not like other Houses, Kirra explained the next day as they rode. “Each House has its own personality that seems to hold fast through generations,” she said. “As, for instance, the Brassenthwaite tradition of loyalty. Even though Kiernan is such an unlikable man, everyone knows he is unswervingly loyal to the king. Even Mayva knows he won’t rise up in rebellion. She would never have asked Kiernan or his brothers to join in a plot against the throne. Danalustrous has a reputation for being just—for listening to all sides of an argument and then making a fair disposition. Other Houses have come to my father when they needed mediation—and to my grandfather and my great-grandmother. Those of the Danalustrous line are level-headed. Tilt is sneaky, Merrenstow is charming—those are the sorts of traits that get associated with a House and then seem to stick. And stick because they’re true,” she added. “But Gisseltess—”
“It has a checkered history,” Senneth said. “Sometimes the leader of the House is faithful, sometimes he’s faithless, other times he’s so tricky you can’t tell which way the wind will blow him. In some generations the people of the House are known for their ruthlessness—in other generations, for their calm. It is as if they are always atoning for the sins of their ancestors, so that the sons and daughters of this generation must be as different as possible from their mothers and fathers.”
“So?” asked Tayse. “How would you describe Halchon Gisseltess’s father?”
Kirra and Senneth exchanged glances. “Absolutely dependable,” Kirra said.
Senneth nodded. “A man who would never break his word, though it cost him his fortune and his life. Stubborn, and often unpleasant, and not a man I’d want to spend much time with—but you could trust him.”
“Ah,” said Tayse. “Then we do have a challenge.”
“What about his sister?” Justin asked. “The leader of the Daughters? What’s she like?”
Kirra shook her head. “I never met her. She was a recluse by the time I was going out in society. And I never heard people talk about her much, so I think she must have been a bit withdrawn even when she was attending balls and parties.” She glanced at Senneth. “Did you ever have any dealings with her?”
Senneth was quiet a moment, as if considering her answer. Tayse instantly suspected that the answer was yes, and that the story would be very interesting if Senneth chose to tell it.
“My father knew her,” she said finally, seeming to choose her words with care. “I think he admired her—but then, my father always had a soft spot for fanatics. It made them so easy to understand.”
“Was she always a fanatic, then?” Kirra asked.
“A religious fanatic, you mean? She was always dressed in silver and black, any time I saw her, and dripping with moonstones, so, yes, I suppose she’s been devoted to the Pale Mother most of her life. But—I meant it in more ways than that. She always seemed to be a person who was completely committed to any cause, any belief, that she happened to take up. She always wore the same colors. She always ate the same foods. If she hated someone, she hated him with all her heart. Not much subtlety to Coralinda Gisseltess.”
“What did she think of you?” Tayse asked.
The look she turned his way was full of humor. “Why would she have any reason to think of me?”
“Well, if she knew your father—” Justin said impatiently.
“Let me put it this way. I’m sure, once she learned he had banished me from his house for being a mystic, she congratulated him for having acted with all propriety. I wasn’t there, of course, so I don’t know for sure.” She glanced at Kirra. “And I would be willing to bet she deeply condemns your father for not taking a similar course of action when you proved to be tainted with magic.”
“That will be interesting, you know,” Kirra remarked. “Once all the Houses start taking sides. Those who go courting my father will have to decide how they feel about me.”
“Maybe your father will have to decide how he feels about you,” Jus
tin said.
Tayse waited for the explosion to come, but Kirra only laughed. Senneth said, “That would be an astute observation if you were talking about any House but Danalustrous. Or even any Danalustrous except Malcolm himself.”
“My father would declare war against all other eleven Houses rather than give me up,” Kirra said.
Tayse could not keep the soberness from his voice. “I hope you’re right. Many an heir has lost his father’s preference over something more minor than magic.”
“But is that what the war is really about? Magic?” Cammon asked, entering the conversation unexpectedly. He had pulled up close enough to listen to the other four talking, whereas Donnal still followed a few paces behind, not entirely interested. “Or is it about the succession?”
Tayse looked over at Senneth, to see her looking at Kirra. “Well?” Senneth said softly. “What is the root cause of the war? If there is a war?”
“I’m unclear,” Kirra admitted. “But I think they’re intertwined.”
“Let us say, for argument’s sake, the Houses align according to who can tolerate mystics and who cannot,” Tayse said. “Where would the alliances fall?”
Kirra bit her lip. “Well, first, you must determine the king’s position, because that determines where Brassenthwaite will go.”
“The king seems fond of mystics,” Tayse said, glancing sideways at Senneth.
She laughed. “Yes—and if he’s married to one, as Aleatha suggested—we will say the crown favors magic.”
“Thus Danalustrous will favor the crown,” Tayse said. “And we already know Brassenthwaite will follow the king—”
“How does Kiernan Brassenthwaite feel about mystics?” Justin asked. “And could that outweigh his loyalty to the king?”
Again, Tayse caught that quick exchange of glances between Senneth and Kirra. “Kiernan has spoken out harshly against mystics in the past,” Kirra admitted. “I don’t think he’s gone so far as to have them hunted down, like Halchon has, but he—he might be troubled to find himself defending them.”