Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses) (5 page)

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Authors: Sharon Shinn

BOOK: Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses)
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Soon enough, though, Cammon fell back to ride beside Senneth. He really had little enough choice of companions. As was his habit, Tayse had ranged some distance ahead, scouting for trouble; Justin had lagged behind to watch the road just traveled. Donnal and Kirra were absorbed in each other.
“I realized in the night that I still know very little about you,” Cammon said. “Any of you. You said you were on a mission for the king?”
Senneth nodded. “Yes. Tayse and Justin are Riders, and I am—well, I’m not a Rider, but King Baryn trusts me. I have done some work for him before.”
“What’s a Rider?”
“A hand-picked group of soldiers who are exceptionally devoted to the king,” she said. “They train at a special facility in Ghosenhall, and they learn skills in weaponry that I am constantly amazed by. No one can be named a Rider unless another Rider recommends him and the king personally accepts him, and even then he must undergo extremely rigorous training. He swears a fealty to the king that is fanatical—that supersedes any other vow he might make to lord or wife or self. No Rider has ever deserted or betrayed his king, not for five centuries—even bad kings who should have been betrayed commanded loyal Riders. And everyone in Gillengaria who might wish to harm the king is afraid of them.”
Cammon was assimilating this. “So King Baryn has asked you to do a favor for him, and he has sent some of his men with you to protect you,” he said. “What is the favor? Or can you not tell me? I don’t wish to be rude,” he ended in a rush.
Senneth smiled. “I don’t think you’re rude. I’ll tell you what I can. The king is growing old, and he has only one heir, his daughter Amalie.
She
is only eighteen. He remarried a few years ago, but his second bride has not produced another heir. Some of the Twelve Houses of Gillengaria think now might be a time to test the strength of the monarchy. I am riding through the countryside to see if I can discover signs of discontent.”
“What are the Twelve Houses?” Cammon asked. “I’m sorry, I know I seem stupid, it’s just that—”
“You’re a stranger here. Which is odd, because you don’t feel like a stranger,” Senneth said.
“No,” he admitted. “I feel like I belong. It’s clear to me that this is the place I’m supposed to be. And today, this morning, waking up for the first time without the moonstone around my neck—I feel so strong. I feel like a new man woke up inside an old body.”
Now Senneth laughed. “An old man,” she repeated. “You can’t be more than twenty.”
“Nineteen.”
“I am more than twice your age.”
He gave her one long, slow glance of appraisal. His gold-flecked eyes were a dark brown, though his ragged hair was fair; the contrast gave him a serious look. “You’re not,” he said. “You might be a few years past thirty, but no older.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Good,” she said. “Spotted the lie and pried out the truth. In fact, I just turned thirty-four.” She was silent a moment. “Though, to tell the truth, I feel older than that. Lifetimes older.”
He was quiet, too, and then he sighed. “I can’t do it yet,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Read you. Be able to say, ‘You, the mystic Senneth, were born to a gardener and his wife and studied painting when you were young.’ I should be able to do that, don’t you think?”
She was amused. “And I think someday you might be able to. But perhaps you should start on a more transparent subject. I am not, as anyone will tell you, so easy to read.”
“Too many secrets,” he agreed.
She felt a slight chill at the words, the same ones Tayse had used the night before.
Too many secrets,
she thought,
and too many tragedies.
She pointed before her. “Try Kirra,” she suggested. “She shouldn’t be so hard.”
So Cammon gazed at the swaying back and bright gold hair, his smooth face drawn into a frown of concentration. “Rich,” he said at last. “Privileged. Very much loved by—somebody. Her father, maybe. And sparkling with magic.” He smiled a little. “Happy. But I didn’t need to try to scan her to tell you that.”
“No, and a look at her clothes and complexion could probably tell you the part about wealth and privilege,” Senneth agreed. “Very good, all the same. She’s the oldest daughter of Malcolm Danalustrous, one of the most powerful nobles in the country—and you’re right, he loves her very much. When it was discovered that she was a mystic, he didn’t expel her from the estate, as many a nobleman has upon discovering he’s spawned something demonic. Instead, he imported tutors and had her taught at Danalustrous. He forced the other nobles to treat her with respect and accept her into their very rarified social circle. No other fathers from any of the Twelve Houses have been so fond, even when they didn’t disown their magical children.”
“You keep saying that—Twelve Houses. What does that mean?”
Kirra, who might have been pretending not to hear when they were discussing her, caught those words, at least. She reined back a little so she could fall in on the other side of Cammon, leaving Donnal to ride on ahead alone.
“Time for a history lesson,” she said merrily. “But without a map and a piece of paper to write it all down on, you won’t be able to keep it straight. Only those of us who have grown up studying the alliances can possibly follow who’s related to whom and why it’s so shocking when a boy from Merrenstow marries a girl from Gisseltess.”
Senneth ignored her. “There are twelve noble Houses of Gillengaria—bloodlines and property divisions that have existed for centuries. Between them, they own virtually all the valuable land of the country, though some own acres of fertile farms, and some command the coastlines, and others own access to the mountains where gold and silver are mined. The marlords—”
“The what?” Cammon interrupted.
“Marlords,” Senneth repeated. “The head of each of the Twelve Houses is called a marlord. His son would be known as a serramar and his daughter as a serramarra. His brothers and sisters also bear those titles because they’re also considered direct heirs to the marlordship. So, if you wanted to be very proper about it, you would address Kirra as serra Kirra, or even serramarra Kirra, which I have always thought particularly lovely.”
“Kirra will do,” said the serramarra, grinning.
“Anyway, the marlords consider themselves the most elegant, sophisticated, and important men and women of the kingdom. They pretend to owe allegiance to the king, and generally they are loyal, but all of them believe that they are superior to royalty and could rule much better if the chance fell to them.”
Kirra’s smiled had widened. “So you can imagine the level of excitement when the royal line produces a child. Who will marry the prince or princess? Which of the Twelve Houses will gain a foothold at the royal palace?”
“What if the king and queen never have a child?” Cammon asked. “Has that ever happened?”
“A few times,” Kirra said. “But not for at least a hundred years. When it does happen, all sorts of scheming goes on, as families make alliances and try to produce heirs that will be acceptable to all the Houses. Usually, of course, everyone looks first to Brassenthwaite.”
“Why?” Cammon said.
Senneth smiled. “Brassenthwaite has always been considered first among Houses,” she said. “The lands encompass part of the northern seacoast, a stretch of rich mountains, and some of the finest farmland in the country—in short, everything. And the Brassenthwaites have always been most fiercely loyal to the king. It is their heritage—it is what distinguishes them from all other Houses. Thus, there have been many marriages between the royal line and Brassenthwaite. And if there were no heir, Brassenthwaite would consider it had the primary claim to the throne.”
Senneth glanced at Kirra before continuing. “Now, Danalustrous—”
“Danalustrous has always been just as loyal, just as strategic, and nearly as wealthy,” Kirra supplied. “So a son or daughter of Danalustrous might as easily be declared ruler.”
“So if King Baryn and his daughter both died suddenly,” Cammon said, “who would claim the throne right now?”
“Well, Kiernan Brassenthwaite would probably step right up,” Kirra said. “But a lot of people dislike marlord Kiernan.”
“With some justification,” Senneth murmured.
“And I don’t think, say, Halchon Gisseltess would just hand him the crown,” Kirra continued. “And I really believe Ariane Rappengrass and Martin Helven would rather see a Danalustrous on the throne.”
“Perhaps that would be the answer, then,” Cammon said. “There should be an alliance between Danalustrous and Brassenthwaite. Are their heirs of marriageable age?”
Kirra stared at him. Senneth erupted into peals of laughter.
“Yes, Kirra,” she finally managed to say. “If Baryn dies, you should marry Kiernan’s brother, and you and Nate Brassenthwaite can take the throne together.”
“I’d rather see Halchon Gisseltess be named king,” Kirra said flatly. Senneth laughed even harder.
“I suppose that wasn’t such a good idea,” Cammon said.
“Oh, it would be a fine idea, if Nate Brassenthwaite wasn’t such a smug, pigheaded, self-important fool,” Kirra snapped.
“Stupid, too,” Senneth gasped out, and then started laughing again.
“Kiernan’s not as bad, but he’s married.”
“He’s
worse,
” Senneth said. “Because he’s mean on top of it. Just like their father.”
“But he’s not stupid,” Kirra said.
Senneth sobered almost on the instant. “No,” she agreed. “Kiernan is not stupid. And, were I Kiernan Brassenthwaite, I would be looking toward Danalustrous even now. Even if the king lives another twenty years and his daughter becomes a great queen—well, it never hurts to strengthen the northern alliances. Kiernan should be taking the long view, and that view faces straight west toward Danalustrous. If he’s not thinking of a marriage between Nate and your sister, I would be greatly surprised.”
Kirra made an unladylike sound. “My sister wouldn’t have him.”
“Would your father?” Senneth asked softly.
They rode on a few minutes in silence while Kirra appeared to think that over. “He might,” she said finally. “But he would not force Casserah into a distasteful marriage, no matter how it might benefit the House. And Casserah has a mind of her own. It is very difficult to persuade her to do something she does not want to do.”
Cammon seemed wholly intrigued. “This is very exciting,” he said. “Tell me more. Who are the heads of the other Twelve Houses, and what are they like?”
So Senneth and Kirra obligingly went through the whole litany for him, the sonorous syllables rolling off their tongues—Brassenthwaite and Danalustrous, tiny Tilt, bustling Merrenstow, peaceful, prosperous Storian. Kianlever and Coravann to the east, Helven and Nocklyn on the southern plains. And claiming the southern coastline, rich Fortunalt, elegant Rappengrass, and ambitious Gisseltess.
“And the king thinks there is unrest now among all these Houses,” Cammon said. “Do you really think it might lead to some kind of uprising?”
Kirra and Senneth again exchanged glances, and Kirra shook her head. “Surely not,” she said. “The country has been peaceful for so long.”
Senneth was silent awhile, watching the road ahead of them. Tayse had circled back and was riding their way; he must have thought it was time to halt for lunch. His eyes went to each of them, one by one, as if counting, as if making sure they had survived these few hours out of his immediate line of sight. “I have no idea,” Senneth said softly. “That’s what we’re riding to find out.”
 
 
THE rest of the day’s journey passed uneventfully, enlivened only occasionally by conversation. Senneth thought Cammon would be willing to spend the whole day asking questions and learning answers, but she eventually grew tired of talking. Too much time alone or among strangers; she had developed the trick of silence. She could not break her habit of watchfulness even when she was among friends.
Well, some of them at least were friends. Kirra, of course; Donnal, almost certainly, though his first loyalty would always be to Kirra, to the House of Danalustrous. It was too soon to know if Cammon would be trustworthy or not, though Senneth was inclined to like him. Such a fresh young mind, unclouded by all the calamities that had beset him early. He rode beside them like a reflecting pool, casting back their images. She was not sure she wanted to look too closely.
They were heading almost straight southeast, hoping to cross the tip of Helven lands in a day or two, and as usual, Justin and Tayse were riding behind and ahead. A few hours after the noon meal, Tayse abruptly turned back and awaited them on the road.
“Travelers ahead of us,” he said shortly. Senneth nodded and brought her horse up next to his so that they rode side by side in the lead.
“Donnal to the rear—Kirra and Cammon in the middle,” she called over her shoulder. Donnal was not much of a fighter, but he had a certain brute peasant strength. Kirra was hopeless with a blade, and who knew about Cammon?
The riders appeared around a bend in the road, about nine of them, dressed in Storian livery and looking friendly enough. They pulled into single file to let the other party pass, and the man on the lead horse asked, “What news of the road ahead?”

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