“Well,” said Cammon, “they would have to be pretty reckless outlaws to attack a party that included nine Riders and seventy soldiers. And a couple of mystics.”
Now Senneth was the one who wanted to send a frowning look at her indiscreet companion. Did they really have to discuss magic while they were still standing in the hallway? But Karryn was instantly intrigued.
“Well, you are a mystic, or so everyone believes,” she said. “But who else in your party has magic?”
Serephette actually lifted a hand and pointed straight at Senneth. “The Brassenthwaite girl,” she said. “Thrown from her father’s House when she was a young woman because he discovered sorcery in her veins. Everyone believed she was dead.”
“Really?” Karryn breathed, clearly thrilled by what she perceived to be a romantic tale. “How dreadful for you!”
Senneth forced a light smile. “It was before you were born,” she said. “Times were different then. These days, fewer people are afraid of magic.”
“I like magic,” Karryn announced. When her mother, clearly scandalized, hissed her name, the serra shook her head. “I do. I find it very useful.”
“So do I,” Cammon said.
They shared another smile, perfectly in charity with one another. Senneth happened to catch Jasper Paladar’s expression and knew it closely mirrored her own. What am I going to do with this ungovernable but wonderful child? Involuntarily, she grinned at him, and he smiled back, his face relaxing.
“I’m sure you must be tired from your travels,” he said. “We have planned no entertainments for tonight, but tomorrow and the evening after, there are a number of local lords and ladies who would very much appreciate the chance to meet you.”
“Oh, yes,” said Cammon. “Introduce me to as many people as you can.”
“But first I would very much like to wash my face and change my clothes,” Senneth said.
“Of course!” Karryn exclaimed. “Won’t you follow me and I can show you to your chambers?”
DINNER that night was a reprise of that opening conversation, awkward but well-intentioned, except for Serephette’s clear disregard for normal civilities. When, late in the meal, Serephette abruptly came to her feet and swept from the room, Senneth could tell by Jasper’s expression that he was disappointed but unsurprised. Her absence actually made the rest of the meal go more smoothly, as Karryn and Cammon were quickly absorbed in conversation, and Senneth and Jasper found themselves quite at ease with each other.
“I’m sure you’re thinking this is a most unconventional household,” he said to her when it was clear Cammon and Karryn had no interest in anyone else’s observations.
Senneth sipped her wine, which was almost as good as the honey-spice vintage Ariane had served. “The first night we dined at Gissel Plain, the heir to the House stormed out of the room after first announcing his hatred for his stepfather,” she said. “I can’t imagine the tension here is much higher than it is there. The war left behind more than unconventional households. I am surprised the realm has been put back together as well as it has.”
He smiled slightly. “Graciously said,” he responded. “And yet I hate to have the royal consort see us at our worst on his very first night.”
Senneth watched Cammon, who appeared to be demonstrating for a captivated Karryn just how well he could pick up thoughts and memories from her head. “Cammon is somewhat eccentric himself,” she murmured. “And it is useless to try to impress him with counterfeit displays of pomp and grandeur. He often does not even notice the outward displays if they don’t match the interior soul. It is pointless to try to be anything except wholly genuine around him.”
“I am not sure if that is comforting or terrifying,” Jasper Paladar replied.
She laughed. “No,” she agreed. “Many aspects of Cammon’s personality present me with precisely that dilemma.”
“And yet you appear to be fond of him.”
She nodded. “Oh yes. I would protect him with my life. I was struck to the heart at Baryn’s passing, but I believe that Cammon and Amalie may prove to be the strongest rulers the realm has ever seen. At any rate, I have pledged myself to them with what I am very sure will be a lifetime vow. As my husband has as well.”
He lifted his eyebrows. She liked his face, intelligent and fine-featured and starting to show a little wear after forty or so years of living. She remembered that Cammon was the one who had chosen him for this position, and so she felt none of her usual impulse to wariness upon making a new acquaintance. She was ready to like him without reservation.
“Your husband?” he said. “Forgive me, I’m not as conversant with current events as I am with past history. I know you are Kiernan Brassenthwaite’s sister, of course, but I don’t know who you married.”
Clearly Cammon hadn’t given all his attention to Karryn. Senneth caught his small grin, but he didn’t even look her way. She laughed ruefully. “I am so used to being notorious for my choices that I didn’t expect to find anyone who didn’t know my story,” she said. “My husband is one of the Queen’s Riders who accompanied us here today.”
Now his face sharpened with sudden interest, though he didn’t look horrified in the least. “Ah, now I understand your use of the word ‘notorious, ’ ” he said. “But I confess I am surprised. I didn’t know Riders ever took wives—or husbands.”
She acknowledged a moment of surprise in turn; not many aristocrats realized that there were women among the Riders. “They rarely do,” she admitted. “As you might imagine, their fanatical level of devotion to the crown rules out many other attachments. I believe it is only because I, too, had given my allegiance wholeheartedly to Ghosenhall that my husband allowed himself to fall in love with me.”
Now Cammon spared her one quick, droll look, but she refused to meet his eyes. “And he is here with you on this trip?” Jasper asked.
“Yes, and eight other Riders.”
Jasper gestured in the general direction of the stairs. “I would not be responsible for separating a husband and wife. If you wish him to join you in your room—”
She smiled. “I appreciate the courtesy and I will accept, although I would not have asked for such a favor. Tayse and I have enough strength of character to survive a few nights apart from each other without suffering emotional damage.”
Jasper poured himself another glass of wine. “I know very little about the royal Riders,” he said, “and I find myself suddenly and deeply curious. What can you tell me about your life among them? I am a historian, you know, so don’t consider any detail too insignificant.”
That was an enjoyable way to pass a half hour, Senneth found, describing her life at the palace as the wife of a Rider. In some ways, it was easy to sum up all Riders with a single sentence—They never betray their monarch—but in other ways, it was impossible to convey the intensity of the bond the Riders felt, to their ruler and to each other. They trusted each other as they trusted no one else, not families, not lovers; they could convey volumes of information with a single look. But what defined them more than anything was their unshakeable devotion to the throne.
“If a Rider has to choose between saving the queen and saving anyone else, he will choose to save the queen,” Senneth said. “Tayse would give his life for Amalie even if I were in danger.”
At that, Cammon apparently couldn’t restrain himself. He looked over and said, “But Tayse knows you can protect yourself. So it’s not like he would be abandoning you to certain death.”
Less true these days than it once was, Senneth thought, but she nodded. “And perhaps that’s the trick of it,” she said. “Riders who want successful marriages must choose partners who can take care of themselves so they don’t have to worry about dividing their loyalties.”
Jasper Paladar sighed slightly at that pronouncement. “So they never marry fluttery young women who are slight and ornamental,” he said in a sad voice.
“They do,” Senneth said, “but generally everyone reg
rets it.”
Cammon, for some reason, had become so fascinated by their conversation that he had momentarily left his own untended. Karryn listened politely, looking just a bit puzzled at the turn the talk had taken. “I wouldn’t say Ellynor is fluttery and ornamental, but she’s hardly a warrior like you are,” Cammon said. “Ellynor married a Rider, too,” he added to Jasper.
“And Ellynor is hardly helpless,” Senneth reminded him. “If someone tried to harm her—well, Ellynor’s a mystic. She has ways of escaping unscathed.”
Cammon was watching Jasper. “My point is, I don’t think a Rider necessarily has to marry someone who’s a fighter,” Cammon said. “Anyone who wants to be with a Rider has to be strong in his own way—has to have abilities and interests of his own—he can’t just cling on and expect to be made happy. A Rider never makes another person his whole life, even if he invites another person into his life. You have to have some richness yourself if you’re going to successfully love a Rider.”
Why is he going on like this? Senneth wondered. This cannot possibly be what Jasper Paladar meant when he said he wanted the smallest details. “Well,” she said, “since you yourself married a princess, I don’t know that you’re much of an authority on what a Rider wants.”
Cammon gave her his most disarming smile. “I understand people better than you do,” he said.
She couldn’t help but laugh at that, and she made him a mocking half-bow from her chair. “Liege, I have to admit that’s true. But I think we’ve bored our hosts long enough on this topic. Time to think of something else to say.”
In fact, the meal came to a close a few minutes later as everyone admitted to fatigue. Senneth was amused to see Karryn and Cammon still deep in conversation as they all climbed the stairs toward their bedrooms. The casual consort and the lonely serramarra looked poised to become the best of friends.
Perhaps the visit to Fortunalt would not be so bad after all.
SENNETH allowed herself the luxury of sleeping late, though she felt Tayse rise from the bed and leave the room as dawn was barely breaking. A couple of hours later, hunger finally drove her out of bed. She put on a simple dress instead of wearing her preferred trousers—might as well try not to be any more odd than Jasper Paladar already knew she was—and styled her short, unruly hair as best she could. These were the times she missed Kirra the most. She sighed at her somewhat unkempt appearance and headed downstairs.
In the dining room, only Serephette still lingered, and she made no attempt to carry on a conversation. Senneth made a few general observations and then gave up, willing enough to eat her meal swiftly and in silence.
“Do you know where I might find Cammon?” she asked as she rose to leave.
“He and Jasper are in the library with Bryce,” Serephette said.
“Who’s that?”
“A mystic boy who has provided many fine services to the House,” Serephette said in a haughty voice, as if Senneth couldn’t possibly understand how to value magic. “The king has very kindly agreed to spend a few minutes coaching him.”
“Sounds just like Cammon,” Senneth said. “Is Karryn with them?”
A look of distaste crossed the marlady’s face. “No. She is down at the training yards, where she goes nearly every morning.”
That made Senneth’s eyes widen. “Really? She’s learning to hold a sword?”
“Disgusting behavior for a serramarra,” Serephette pronounced.
“Actually, I think it’s wise,” Senneth said. “I like your daughter more and more.”
Serephette looked doubtful at that, as if approbation from someone as disreputable as Senneth could hardly be a good thing, but Senneth merely smiled, dropped the tiniest curtsey, and left the room.
It was a simple enough matter to exit the house and find the training yards, located on the back lawn near a long, low building that was probably the barracks. Senneth noted with approval that the yard appeared to be well-maintained and that most of the soldiers were using practice blades. Six of the Riders were inside the fence, trading blows with local guards and seeming to enjoy themselves hugely. Senneth assumed the other three were roaming the grounds in the ceaseless effort to keep Cammon safe.
She was surprised to see that Tayse had paired off with Karryn and was walking her through one of the complicated dueling moves that Senneth herself had had trouble mastering. The serramarra was dressed for business, in trousers, a padded vest, and heavy gloves. She listened closely to Tayse’s instructions and experimentally swung her blade. Senneth could tell that Karryn didn’t quite have the hang of it—but she could also tell that Karryn had had a little practice with a sword.
Just then, Justin spotted her and excused himself from his competition with a solidly built man who looked to be about Tayse’s age and rough with experience. He came to lean beside her against the fence that enclosed the yard.
“Look who’s finally awake,” he greeted her.
“I’m a serramarra. I’m used to a life of idle luxury,” she replied.
He nodded in Karryn’s direction. “Not that one,” he said. “She’s been here almost an hour and has been working hard the whole time.”
“I can scarcely contain my amazement,” Senneth said. “Is she any good?”
“No,” he said. “But that’s not the point. The point is that she’s trying. You can tell all her guards are proud of her for even buckling on a vest and getting her hands dirty.”
“How about her guards?” she asked. “They look pretty competent.”
A slight frown crossed Justin’s face and he shook back his blond-brown hair. “Better than competent,” he said. “A couple of them are excellent, and the rest will be soon. Apparently they were all recruited in the past two months when the serra’s uncle decided she needed more protection. They’ve jelled faster than you’d expect from a group of strangers.”
She wasn’t sure why he seemed troubled. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Well, it’s good for Karryn,” Justin said slowly, “but it makes you start asking questions.”
“What questions? What’s wrong?”
He pointed toward the older guard he’d been fighting when Senneth first walked up. “See that man? His name’s Orson. See that move he’s practicing—using his right hand to slash and his left hand to follow through with a knife? That’s a Rider trick. He hasn’t got it quite right yet, but it’s obvious he’s been practicing for a while. Learned it from somebody who knew how to do it.”
Now Senneth understood why he was disturbed. “Who taught him? Did he say?”
He didn’t answer. “And that woman there—Moss. Watch her. See how she dances back out of the way of a blow? It’s a way to counter strength with agility. I’ve seen Janni and Wen pull off that maneuver flawlessly, and a couple other Riders. But no one outside of Ghosenhall.”
“Well—four Riders left Ghosenhall after the war,” she said, though she knew he needed no reminding. Not a single absent brother or sister had ever been forgotten by any of the Riders who had chosen to remain in Amalie’s service. “Maybe one of them ended up in Fortunalt and took a job for serra Karryn.”
He shook his head. “Layne’s in Kianlever and Chottle’s in Merrenstow, and Selt has rented a house in Ghosenhall,” he said. “We know where everyone is, except . . .” His voice trailed off.
Except Wen, Senneth thought. Her loss had been hard on all the Riders; Justin, for one, had never accepted her absence. She knew for a fact that he had journeyed twice to Tilt, hoping to surprise her at her family’s home, and he had quarreled once with Janni when he accused her of knowing Wen’s whereabouts and refusing to divulge them. He had even badgered Cammon several times, convinced that Cammon—who could track a friend across the kingdom from hundreds of miles away—must surely know where Wen had run. But Cammon had never given Justin much satisfaction. “Wen is where she wants to be” was all he would say.