Reader and Raelynx (5 page)

Her eyes widened and she clapped her hands to her mouth as if to push back a laugh. “No, really? I imagine
that
will make it even easier to get to know all the serramar who come calling. You on one side of me, Valri on the other.”

He was grinning again. “Why not have Tayse and Justin in the room while you’re at it? The whole entourage.”

She dropped her hands but she was still laughing. “Well, I suppose any man who’s willing to run that gauntlet will at least have proved he has courage. That would be something in his favor, at any rate. So are you planning to come here every day, or just on the days I’m expecting to be courted?”

“Senneth thinks I should live at the palace, at least for a while,” he said. “After what happened today—on top of what happened two weeks ago—she thought both you and your father might be safer if I was on the premises.” He thought that sounded boastful and added quickly, “Because sometimes I can sense things. Bad things. I can tell when people have violence in their hearts.”

All the laughter had left her face. “What happened two weeks ago?” she asked.

By the Bright Mother’s burning eye. “Something I wasn’t supposed to mention, evidently,” he said.

“Tell me,” she said.

She was the princess; she could command him. Besides, Cammon had never seen the value of withholding information. “A man had come to Ghosenhall and was planning to kill your father,” he said. “He’d stolen the clothes and the papers of a merchant from Arberharst who had been granted an audience with the king. I could—I could feel his thoughts and his plans—I don’t know how to explain. So I alerted Tayse and Senneth, and we stopped him.”

“What happened to him?”

Cammon grimaced. “I don’t know. The Riders took him for questioning. I don’t know what else they’ve learned from him.”

Her face was thoughtful. “And they don’t ask you to sit in when they—question—someone? I would think you would be particularly useful in situations like that.”

He looked away. “No. When there’s too much pain or fear, that’s all I can feel. I can’t block it out. I can’t hear underlying truths.”

She was silent a moment. Then, “That’s good to know. I would hate to think of you being called in to assist a torturer.”

He glanced back at her. “I think maybe it’s a weakness on my part. Why should I care if someone who’s cruel or villainous experiences a little pain in turn? But, really, I can’t stand it.”

“I don’t think it’s a weakness at all,” she said. “I think it’s a strength. But then, my own strengths are peculiar.”

That certainly invited the next obvious question—
What do you consider your strengths?
—but he didn’t get a chance to ask. “Amalie, come listen to this,” Valri called, and Senneth waved them over. They joined the other women, and talk about bloodlines and marriages recommenced, and Cammon was once again very bored.

Or would have been, if he hadn’t spent the entire time reviewing his conversation with the princess. Who wanted him to be her friend. And who considered herself peculiar. And whom he would have the honor of defending by magic at least for the foreseeable future.

Life looked to be very interesting for the next few weeks.

I
N
fact, life was fairly dull for the next few days, but that was mostly because Amalie was nowhere in it.

Milo, now, Milo had quickly become a fixture of Cammon’s existence. The steward, no doubt alerted by Senneth, came to Cammon’s room that first evening and assessed the clothing that Jerril had boxed up and sent over.

“No,” he said, and pointed, and a team of footmen carried off every last stitch. They did leave behind one pair of boots, but even those did not impress Milo. “You may wear those, but not inside the palace,” he said. A tailor had accompanied the steward, and he now took comprehensive measurements of Cammon’s body, swore that he could produce a new wardrobe in two days, and hurried off.

“What will I wear tomorrow, then?” Cammon said.

“I am having the laundresses wash and iron some uniforms that belonged to men who served here previously,” Milo said majestically. “They will be brought to you. I believe I have gauged your size with at least as much accuracy as you have managed to do when you commissioned your own clothing in the past.”

Cammon couldn’t help but laugh at that. He could tell Milo was genuinely scandalized, and over
clothes
! Something that didn’t even
matter
! “Mostly I just put on whatever happens to be around,” he said.

“Yes,” Milo said, “so I surmised.”

It became clear that Milo also planned to control Cammon’s access to Amalie. “Every morning you will present yourself to me—suitably attired—and I will inform you if the princess will have need of you that day, and when,” said Milo. “If she does not, you may consider yourself free until the early afternoon, then check with me again, in case plans have changed. The king would like you to be in attendance at all dinners that feature any guests, which means all dinners for at least the next two weeks. You may eat with the footmen in the kitchen before meals. Someone will bring you bathing water every morning. Make sure you use it. Someone will bring wood for your fire, but you will be expected to make it yourself.”

And so on. Cammon felt himself quickly growing out of charity with Milo, though he knew Kirra and Senneth both were fond of the royal steward. Then again, the steward had probably never treated them like servants. Well, anybody who treated Kirra or Senneth like a servant would very quickly be sorry.

The thought made Cammon grin and instantly restored his usual good humor.

Amalie—or, at least, Milo—had no need of Cammon the morning following his first night in the palace, so he headed down to the section of the palace grounds where the Riders lived and worked out. Despite the frigid temperature, a dozen Riders were in the training yard, practicing swordplay and other skills. Wen was engaged in a furious battle with Tayse’s father, Tir, a dark, burly man still impressively strong although he was nearly as old as the king. Wen had youth and energy in her favor, but Tir was wily. Even without staying to watch the outcome of the match, Cammon knew who would win. There were only a handful of Riders good enough to defeat Tir, and Wen wasn’t one of them.

“Hey, you want to come hack at me next?” she called out as Cammon slipped between the rails of the fence surrounding the training yard. “I’ll be in ribbons by then, so you ought to find it easy to bring me down.”

He grinned. He wasn’t much of a fighter—excellent defense, because he had no trouble guessing where his opponent planned to land the next blow, but almost no offensive skills. He had never actually defeated Wen—but then, she had never actually defeated him, either.

“Too cold,” he called back. “I’m looking for Senneth.”

“In the cottage.”

He nodded. “I know.”

In fact, both Senneth and Tayse were at home, though it was still odd to think of them sharing a house just like any ordinary couple. Most Riders lived in the barracks. The few who chose to marry—and were able to stay married—took up residence in one of the small cottages that fanned out behind the large communal building. Not until Senneth and Tayse had eloped last fall was Tayse willing to set up a household with Senneth. He had preferred her to keep a bedroom at the palace, in luxurious quarters more suitable for a serramarra. But married couples lived together; even Tayse, with his strict notions of class boundaries, recognized that fact. And so they had moved into the cottage, and Senneth had made a few stabs at decorating it, but she wasn’t exactly the most domesticated creature in Gillengaria. Kirra had not been able to stand it. The last time she was here, she had spent a small fortune with Ghosenhall merchants, buying curtains and rugs and sets of china, and so the small house actually had a rather homey feel.

Cammon wasn’t sure Senneth or Tayse had ever cooked in the kitchen, however. They took their meals in the barracks when they both were present, and Tayse ate with the other Riders when Senneth was needed at the palace.

Tayse greeted him at the door. “I was just going out to practice,” said the big man. “You want to come along? I’ll give you a workout.”

“Too cold,” Cammon repeated.

Senneth joined them. “I could ring the whole yard with flame,” she offered. “Make it nice and comfortable.”

Tayse shook his head. “Riders need to know how to fight in all kinds of weather,” he said. “Don’t want to make them soft.”

“I can’t think a few degrees of extra warmth will turn any of that lot soft,” she observed.

Tayse was still waiting, eyebrows lifted.
Are you sure you won’t join me? You can never work too hard or be too good
. Tayse was not the sort of man who believed in taking advantage of a quiet moment to let his bones go completely idle. A quiet moment was when you cleaned your sword or practiced a new way of throwing your knife. Cammon said, “Maybe later.”

Tayse nodded and ducked out the door. Whoever had designed these cottages had not allowed for a Rider as big as Tayse. Then he ducked back in. “Any news of Justin?” he asked.

Cammon nodded vigorously. “They’re on the move. Heading home.”

That pleased Tayse so much he came all the way back inside. “Where are they, can you tell? How soon will they be back?”

Cammon scrunched up his face and concentrated. He wasn’t good with actual physical locations, just general directions. He had the advantage of knowing where Justin had started out, though, and that made it a little easier. “They’re traveling pretty fast and going—north, I think. But they’re still in the Lirrens. He still feels sort of fuzzy to me. I’ll have a much better idea once they cross the mountains.”

Tayse glanced at Senneth, a faint smile on his face. “We should find a way to welcome them home.”

She laughed. “What, you missed having the Riders throw you a charivari on your own wedding night?”

“Charivari?” Cammon repeated. “What’s that?”

Tayse’s smile deepened. “When Riders marry. It is traditional to celebrate the event—”

“Since it is so rare,” Senneth interjected.

“With a party that sometimes becomes quite boisterous and continues through the night.”

“A drunken rout is what it is, and I don’t think Ellynor would enjoy it,” Senneth said. “Though I do think it would be nice to plan some kind of celebration for the day they arrive. If Cammon could tell us when that is going to be.”

“When they get closer, I will,” he said.

“Justin will suspect something,” Tayse said. “He’ll sneak them in during the middle of the night.”

“Easy enough for Riders to stay up and wait for them,” Senneth said, trying not to laugh. “Riders never need to sleep.”

“Well, we ought to mark the occasion in some fashion.”

“Kirra and Donnal ought to be here,” Senneth said. “We should send them word. Are they still in Danalustrous?”

Cammon nodded. “I’ll let them know,” he said.

“That will be nice,” Senneth said. “The six of us back together again. For a little while, anyway.”

“Seven now,” Cammon said.

“Seven,” Senneth repeated. “I wonder how well I’ll like Ellynor once I get to know her.”

Tayse shrugged. “She makes Justin happy. That’s all I need to know.”

Senneth looked at Cammon with a question on her face.
Does she indeed make Justin happy?
He grinned and nodded. “Almost as happy as you make Tayse,” he said. That made her laugh and shove him out the door. So, after all, despite the cold, pretty soon he was out on the training field with a weapon in his hand.

Nothing else to do if he was not going to have a chance to see Amalie.

T
HE
princess didn’t need him the following morning, either, but Cammon was not going to make the mistake of seeking out the Riders again. He was still sore from yesterday’s workout. Instead he bundled himself up in a heavy new coat—provided by Milo—and went in search of the raelynx.

The six of them had come across the wild cat a year ago when they were traveling through Gillengaria on a mission for King Baryn. Most raelynxes could only be found across the Lireth Mountains in the Lirrenlands, and they possessed their own kind of feral magic. They could not be caught—they could not be killed—they eluded every hunter’s trap, every householder’s poison. With their red fur, spiky ears, and great tufted toes, they were beautiful and lawless and terrifying.

The folk of the Lirrens had learned to control them, or at least keep the great cats from ravaging their communities. Senneth said it was because the Lirrenfolk were protected by the Dark Watcher, and the night goddess had claimed the raelynx as her own. During the long years when Senneth was estranged from her own family, she had lived among the Lirrenfolk and learned some of their customs, and she too had acquired the trick of controlling a raelynx’s appetite and rage.

Or at least, she had figured out how to keep this particular beast in check, but she admitted it was only because they had found it when it was just a few months old. A full-grown cat would have been more than even Senneth could handle. She had meant to return it to the Lirrens once they were safely done with their travels—and yet their adventures had never delivered them back to the Lireth Mountains. Strangely, once they returned to Ghosenhall, Queen Valri had been quite taken with the notion of keeping a raelynx on the property, and she had begged the king to allow her to keep it.

Madness. Even Cammon knew that. But he loved the raelynx, and he had been secretly glad to learn it would be staying in Ghosenhall, where he could visit it whenever he wished.

It was quite a trek through the palace grounds to the walled garden where the raelynx was kept. Several hundred acres surrounded the palace proper, and they were divided into a broad diversity of terrain with a handful of attractions—wooded areas, streams, gardens, living quarters, stables, gazebos, and follies. The garden holding the wild creature was about as far distant from the palace and the barracks as it could be. It was surrounded by a high stone wall and closed with a wrought-iron gate. Winter-bare trees poked their heads above the fencing; dead vines clung to the stone and mortar. Through the open grillwork of the gate, Cammon could see more of the same inside—brown grasses, nude shrubs, the bent and colorless stalks of tall flowers patiently enduring the indignities of winter.

He stepped close enough to set his hands on the rods and peered inside. It should be easy to spot the cat’s red fur in such a bleak environment, but at first he could see no sign of the raelynx at all. He could sense it, though, a great vortex of curiosity and hunger and violence. And awareness. The big cat knew Cammon was there just as surely as Cammon could tell the raelynx was near.

Suddenly, as if materializing from empty space, the raelynx stood before the gate, watching Cammon with its huge dark eyes. Its tufted tail twitched slowly back and forth; the peaks of fur along its spine stood taut with interest. Some of its readiness to fight faded; in its place came something Cammon could not identify. Recognition, maybe.
This is someone I have seen before. He is human but he means me no harm.
Nowhere near as clear as that, of course.

“So. You’re starting to know me, are you?” Cammon murmured. He was tempted to thrust his hands through the bars and stroke that watchful face, offer a friendly pat on top of the russet head. He knew better, naturally. This was not an animal that could be tamed. Oh, he had seen Senneth actually put her hand out and caress the bright fur, but only once, and the raelynx had been much younger then. Now, more than a year old and almost up to its full weight and strength, the big cat was too fearsome to tempt. “Are you lonely? Do you miss visiting with your wild friends—having your raelynx neighbors over for tea?”

He couldn’t help but smile at his own nonsense, but the creature seemed to enjoy the sound of his voice. Its mood mellowed even more. It dropped to its haunches and watched Cammon with sleepy eyes. Cammon could pick up no urgent sense of hunger, so he guessed the animal had fed earlier in the day. Raelynxes were notorious for their ravenous appetites. Shortly after this one had been penned up in the garden—which was much too small to accommodate it—the queen had had a run built for it, accessed through the back wall. She also made sure live game was introduced to the garden every few weeks. Now and then, a watcher with a quick eye could catch a flash of red as the raelynx bounded down the run in pursuit of an unlucky rabbit.

“But maybe you’re not a pack animal,” Cammon said. Moving slowly, he dropped to the ground on his side of the gate. The raelynx yawned and stretched out on the other side. “Maybe you roam your territory in utter solitude. Maybe you like Ghosenhall, because there’s not another raelynx for hundreds of miles.”

The big cat snorted and settled its massive head on its enormous paws. Its eyelids drooped, but it didn’t quite allow itself to sleep.

“You seem so reasonable right now,” Cammon continued in a soft voice. “Almost gentle. What would happen if this gate swung open, I wonder? Where would you run first? And would I be able to control you? That’s what I really want to know. Would Senneth? I think I could hold you still long enough for hunters to get in place—but even so, could a hunter really bring you down? What would we do if you ever got free?”

“We would vacate the city and run for our lives,” said a voice behind him.

Cammon nearly yelped as he spun around on his knees to see who had possibly been able to come upon him unaware. The raelynx sensed his mood and came hissing to his feet, but both of them calmed down immediately.

It was Queen Valri. Someone to respect, perhaps—Cammon, at least, scrambled up and attempted to give her a formal bow—but not someone to fear.

“Majesty,” he said, a little breathlessly. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

She seemed amused. “That must be a rare experience for you.”

Her smile invited his own. “Very rare! You can see I don’t know how to behave when I’m surprised.”

“I find it so gratifying that I’m still able to surprise someone that I don’t care how you behave,” she said.

This was, for the dark-humored queen, an almost playful observation. “Well, I’ll try not to be too ridiculous, anyway.”

Once she was close enough to the gate, she bent down and spread her fingers so that her palm lay exposed between two of the rods. Cammon held his breath as the raelynx sniffed at her hand. The big cat felt recognition for this human, too, that was obvious. Recognition and something else—affection? Was that possible?

“He likes you,” Cammon said, speaking in that soft voice again.

Valri nodded, as if that wasn’t an absurd thing to say. “I come here once or twice a week, if I can. To check that he is well. He is so far from home and surrounded by people who distrust him. I feel that the least I can do is make sure he is not utterly alone.”

Well, and wasn’t that an interesting speech? Even someone who couldn’t read emotions would have been able to guess that the queen was describing herself and her own situation. “Someday maybe he’ll have a chance to go back home,” Cammon said.

She nodded again. Her hand was still pressed against the bars, but the raelynx had lost interest and dropped back to the ground. “If he hasn’t been ruined by captivity. If it hasn’t changed the very essence of his nature.”

Cammon was at a loss. Was he supposed to respond to that or pretend she was still talking about the cat? “And do you think that will be case?”

She was silent for a long moment and he figured she wouldn’t answer. Then she turned her head and gave him a sad smile. Her green eyes were bright with some emotion—regret, resignation, uncertainty, he could not tell. “At least I chose to come here,” she said. “This creature did not.”

Neither of them said anything for a long moment, but they watched each other steadily. Most of Cammon’s uneasiness had disappeared. He was used to people telling him their secrets; as long as they meant to do it, he was not afraid of what he might hear. “And why did you?”

She looked back at the raelynx. “The king asked me to. How could I refuse?”

“It does not seem,” he said cautiously, “like a very hard life.”

She shook her head. “It could not possibly be harder.”

He thought that over. He knew so little about Valri—only what Senneth and Kirra had told him, and they were as puzzled by the strange young queen as everyone else was. She and Baryn had married six years ago, shortly after Amalie’s mother died. No one knew what House she was from, or where the king had met her, and, of course, there was a certain amount of scandal over their significant age difference. In the southern Houses, the whispers had started a few years ago:
The queen is a mystic. She has bespelled the king.
But Baryn showed no hallmarks of a man enchanted, as far as Cammon could tell, and he was pretty sure he’d be able to read the signs. Anyway, Valri seemed to spend far more time with her stepdaughter than she did with her husband….

“Are you protecting Amalie?” he said, before it occurred to him not to voice the speculation. “Is that it?” Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I have no right to ask such questions.”

But she was nodding again, her gaze still fixed before her. “Every day. With all my strength. Keeping Amalie safe.”

“You
are
a mystic,” he said.

She shrugged. “Some people might say so.”

“What’s your power?” But he had figured that out for himself. “Concealment. You can hide your thoughts—you can hide Amalie’s. That’s why I find both of you impossible to read.”

“I can hide her,” Valri said quite softly. “So no one can find her.”

“But she can’t hide anymore,” Cammon said, his voice just as quiet.

“I know. And I am absolutely terrified.”

She said it with no particular emphasis, but for a moment she let her guard down—just a little—and he could sense a profound and soul-deep fear coiled at her heart. He inhaled sharply. Immediately, the impression was gone.

“But, Majesty, you are not the only one on hand to protect her,” he said. “Fifty Riders guard the gates, and royal soldiers can be found on every street corner of Ghosenhall. If any man gets past the soldiers, Senneth can call down fire and burn him where he stands.”

Valri turned her head again, just enough to give him a fierce look from those remarkable eyes. “
You
have to be the one to watch out for her,” she said. “
You’re
the one who can sense danger. You have to make sure no one gets close enough to hurt her.”

Now he knew. Why the queen had confided in him. To make sure he was firmly committed to her cause. “That’s why I’ve been brought to the palace,” he said, his voice gentle. “I will do my job. I will keep her safe. You were with us last summer—you know I can be trusted.”

“Even if war comes,” she said, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. “Even if the king and I are both disposed of, and all the Riders chased off, and Halchon Gisseltess installed on the throne. You must watch over her.”

“Of course I will,” he said, though if all those eventualities occurred, he would most likely be dead as well. Amalie, too. “But once she marries—”

Valri made a small sound and rested her head against the bars of the gate. The raelynx glanced up, decided her nose was too far away to make a leap for, and settled its chin back on its paws. “How will we ever find the right man for her?” she said in something like despair.

Cammon was in agreement with the sentiment. “Perhaps the king shouldn’t be rushing her into a wedding.”

Valri straightened up. “And perhaps a wedding is the very thing that is needed,” she said. “I don’t know. I can’t tell. I just know that Amalie will require a very special bridegroom. And I don’t know if one exists in all of Gillengaria.”

Stranger and stranger. “I suppose you will have to make the search to find out.”

Now she groaned and almost smiled. “I suppose we will. A parade of serramar coming through the palace to woo her! Could anything be more disastrous? There are days, Cammon, when I do not believe I am up to the task before me.”

“Well, on those days maybe you should let other people do some of the work. The Riders. Senneth. Me.”

Now she smiled outright. “You will have your own work cut out for you, just you wait and see. I think there is a young lord coming by tomorrow—or the day after—you will get your chance to eavesdrop on a suitor’s conversation soon enough.”

The tone of her voice made him think she was about to bring the dialogue to a close. He would not put it past her to pretend it had never happened. “I don’t entirely understand what you’re afraid of—or what you’re protecting Amalie from—or what you want from me,” he said bluntly. “But anytime you want my help, just say so. I will do whatever I can.” That sounded too casual, almost lighthearted. He tried for more formality. “I am yours to command, Majesty.”

She turned away from the gate, back in the direction of the palace. “You may escort me to the door, if you would,” she said. “It is almost dinnertime, and we both should be back. I must change my clothes, and you—” She gave him a sideways glance.

He laughed. “I must change, too, or Milo will throw me over the wall and feed me to the raelynx,” he said.

“Well, then,” she said. “Let us go make ourselves presentable.”

T
HERE
was no chance to find Senneth immediately and repeat the gist of the conversation with Valri. While Cammon scrubbed his face and changed into a freshly pressed uniform, he had leisure to consider whether, in fact, he
should
tell Senneth about the encounter. Valri was a mystic; surely that was something Senneth needed to know. Yet perhaps Valri had been confiding a secret to him, and Cammon knew all about protecting secrets. A reader, as Jerril had told him more than once, had a sacred obligation to respect the privacy of others.