Read Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses) Online
Authors: Sharon Shinn
Fortune and Fate (Twelve Houses) (14 page)
She opened her eyes wide. “You think
you
should go?”
you
should go?”
He nodded. “I’m the one most likely to pick up accurate impressions of what is really going on.”
Neither Cammon nor Amalie had strayed far from Ghosenhall since the war ended—not that they didn’t want to. Their advisors were united in thinking it was a bad idea for the queen or her husband to travel too far outside of the well-defended, walled compound that housed the palace and a few hundred acres of property. But Amalie had refused to let herself be so confined. She made a point of walking the streets of the royal city at least once a week, and subjects from throughout Gillengaria crowded along her known routes to curtsey to her and throw flowers. Ever since she had taken the throne, she had threatened to travel the circuit of all of the Twelve Houses, just to prove she was not afraid to do so. So far Senneth and Tayse and Amalie’s uncle Romar had convinced her that it was wiser to stay at home where her Riders knew every alley and hazard.
Senneth hadn’t expected their pleas to hold Amalie in place forever. In fact, she was surprised they had worked this long. Amalie, though the most agreeable and easygoing of monarchs, was unbelievably stubborn when she believed she was right. And she was determined to be the people’s queen, accessible to all her subjects.
But with the realm still so unsettled . . .
“It’s a risk,” Senneth said. “Especially if there are really outlaws crowding all the thoroughfares of Gillengaria.”
“I’ll take a few guards with me,” Cammon said.
“A
few
!” she exclaimed, before realizing he was joking.
few
!” she exclaimed, before realizing he was joking.
“You and Tayse. The two of you alone could keep me safe. Queen’s mystic and Queen’s Rider.”
Senneth pressed her lips together. “I’m not the mystic I once was,” she said quietly.
He held his hand out and she slowly gave him hers. Her skin was still warmer to the touch than his—than anyone’s—but it burned at nothing like the fever pitch that used to scorch others when her magic was at its hottest.
“I haven’t seen you call flame for a couple months now,” he said. “Are you getting stronger?”
She pulled her hand away. “A little.”
“Show me.”
She clenched her fingers a moment to feel the heat build in her veins, then splayed them fast. Fire danced from every fingertip and encased her arm like a writhing red glove. She touched her hand to a pile of papers on his desk, and they went up in flames. She leaned toward the window and set the curtains on fire. The temperature in the room rose appreciably, and the smell of smoke was very strong.
“These days I can’t set anything on fire unless I put my hand to it,” she said. “I used to be able to fling fire halfway across a city.”
“Can you still put out any fire in the vicinity just by willing it?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said, and curled her fingers again. Every blaze in the room went out. The curtains, the papers on the desk, showed no sign of charring. “But that’s not quite as satisfying as causing an inferno to begin with.”
“I’m wondering,” he said, “just how much additional power you might be able to summon if you were in a desperate battle.”
She gave him a somewhat sour look. “I’ve wondered the same thing, but since I’ve no wish to be in a desperate battle, I hope I don’t find out.”
“At any rate, you have plenty of magic for what I need,” he said. “Which is to accompany me on a tour of the southern Houses.”
“And you want to do—what? Visit Gisseltess, Rappengrass, and Fortunalt? Go looking for malcontents? What are you going to tell the marlords and marladies as you start poking through their properties?”
“I’ll say I’m trying to determine how safe it would be for the queen to make such a tour later in the year.”
“Cammon!” Now she practically jumped out of the chair. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
He gave her a limpid look. “Of course I do. You know Amalie wants to travel throughout Gillengaria. She won’t wait much longer. But I’d like to know that the roads—and Houses—are secure before she sets out.”
She took a deep breath. Tayse wasn’t going to like this. Although Tayse was always practical. If the queen insisted on touring the southern Houses, Tayse, too, would want to make sure the countryside was swept clean of brigands and rebels. “Well. Naturally Tayse and I will come. Do you want to wait till Justin comes back from the Lirrens? You know he won’t want to be left out.”
Cammon gestured. “I’ll let him know he should meet us at Gissel Plain.”
“I don’t know how many Riders Tayse will want you to have—and then a whole complement of royal soldiers in addition—well, we’ll just let him decide the numbers,” Senneth said. “Isn’t there some law about how many Riders have to always remain with the king or queen?”
“That’s what Amalie says,” he answered. “There must always be forty Riders available to guard the monarch. So I guess I could take nine with me.”
Forty-nine Riders,
Senneth thought. There should have been fifty, but eight had died in the war and four had left the royal service once the fighting ended. Not unexpectedly, there had been a host of candidates who presented themselves in Ghosenhall, auditioning for this most prestigious post, but Amalie had only slowly rebuilt her elite guard. It was a tight, almost mystical bond, the connection between ruler and Rider. Riders were unswervingly loyal, more dedicated to their king—or queen—than to their own lives; in return the monarchs trusted their Riders absolutely. It was not a casual thing to accept an individual into such intense service. It was a compact that had never been betrayed, and as far as Senneth knew, a Rider never left his ruler’s service unless he or his sworn liege was dead.
Senneth thought. There should have been fifty, but eight had died in the war and four had left the royal service once the fighting ended. Not unexpectedly, there had been a host of candidates who presented themselves in Ghosenhall, auditioning for this most prestigious post, but Amalie had only slowly rebuilt her elite guard. It was a tight, almost mystical bond, the connection between ruler and Rider. Riders were unswervingly loyal, more dedicated to their king—or queen—than to their own lives; in return the monarchs trusted their Riders absolutely. It was not a casual thing to accept an individual into such intense service. It was a compact that had never been betrayed, and as far as Senneth knew, a Rider never left his ruler’s service unless he or his sworn liege was dead.
There had been plenty of promising young soldiers eager to fill that fiftieth slot, but Amalie had stopped auditioning new candidates. “I have a full complement of Riders,” she said if anyone asked. Everyone knew that there was one missing. Everyone knew that Amalie would not replace her.
“Well—nine Riders—surely you’ll be safe
then
,” Senneth said. “How quickly do you want to leave?”
then
,” Senneth said. “How quickly do you want to leave?”
“How quickly do you think Tayse can put together a detail?”
She grinned. “Within the hour, liege, if you’re in a hurry.”
He laughed. “I think we can take a day or two to organize ourselves. At any rate, I can’t leave for two weeks, because there is that dinner Romar wants me to attend.”
She came to her feet. “Then that gives Tayse plenty of time to prepare. I’ll tell him to plan his route and pick his men.”
“And women,” Cammon said.
She gave him an inquiring look.
“I think Janni should come with us,” he said.
“Certainly. Any particular reason?”
He considered. “I think she’d enjoy the trip.”
So there was a reason but he didn’t want to tell her. For someone who made it impossible for others to conceal their thoughts, Cammon could be maddeningly uncommunicative at times. But there was no hardship in including Janni on any long excursion. The young Rider was cheerful, skilled, and able to hold her own with anyone, verbally and physically—even Justin. “Anyone else you’d like us to invite for crucial but unnamed reasons?” she asked sweetly.
He just gave her that boyish smile again. “I don’t think so.”
“All right. We’ll be ready to leave whenever you want us.”
Chapter 8
WEN STOOD OUTSIDE THE TRAINING YARD AT FORTUNE
and watched her new recruits with a critical eye.
and watched her new recruits with a critical eye.
They were not, so far, much to look at. Well, neither was the yard. She had insisted on having a couple acres of the perfectly well-tended lawn ripped up, fenced off, and turned into a practice field where the men under her command could hone their skills. Now the field was churned and muddy, just as a training yard should be—more so today because of the rain the night before.
The men gamely battling it out were already covered to their knees in wet dirt, and more than one had slipped on the slick surface and gone crashing down. Good. Plenty of skirmishes were fought on unfriendly terrain. They had to be prepared for bad weather and unforgiving ground.
Though at the moment, they didn’t look prepared for anything. It had taken Wen a week to assemble this lot, presumably the best Forten City had to offer. She had rather enjoyed the recruiting process, for she had what amounted to unlimited funds and a prestigious position to offer; the men she had approached in taverns and along the docks had listened with interest as she outlined her proposal.
I want twenty-four of the best fighters in Fortunalt to come work for the serramarra Karryn. You have to be prepared to work harder than
you ever have before, and you must swear absolute loyalty to the House. But you’ll be amply compensated, and you’ll have pride in your work. . . .
I want twenty-four of the best fighters in Fortunalt to come work for the serramarra Karryn. You have to be prepared to work harder than
you ever have before, and you must swear absolute loyalty to the House. But you’ll be amply compensated, and you’ll have pride in your work. . . .
She’d dismissed the sorry remnants of the guard who had been at the House when she arrived. Although she had invited them all to audition for the new force, none of them had—but more than a hundred strangers had taken up the offer. A handful of them were women, which pleased her because Wen had specifically sought to add a female element to the guard. She knew from her own experience that a woman’s physical strength could rarely match a man’s, but many times an encounter depended on agility, guile, and speed, in addition to training, and the women among the Riders had always been exceptional on those counts. Besides, she thought it would be good for Karryn to see women among her soldiers. It would remind the serramarra that just because she was female, she shouldn’t consider herself helpless.
It had been easy to winnow out the applicants who were completely unqualified. And it was not particularly hard to pick out the ones she had no interest in hiring—the arrogant, the untrainable, the evil-tempered. The real trick was finding the raw material that she could mold into a fighting force: the young woman who’d never held a sword but had an uncanny aptitude, the brawny brute who had never learned to temper his strength with finesse. Most of the time she was just guessing.
On a whim, she’d invited Bryce to attend the final auditions to see if he had any observations to offer. He seemed gratified by her trust and planted himself on the top rail of the raw wood fence encircling the yard, and he sat there all morning with his face screwed up in concentration. When she had the fighters take a break around noon, Wen hopped onto the railing next to him and mussed his red hair.
“Well? Any thoughts?”
He looked apologetic. “I can’t tell who’s any good,” he said. “I thought I’d just be able to
know
who ought to be a fighter, but it’s all too fuzzy. There’s too much spinning around.”
know
who ought to be a fighter, but it’s all too fuzzy. There’s too much spinning around.”
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