The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses) (13 page)

Read The Thirteenth House (Twelve Houses) Online

Authors: Sharon Shinn

 
“Or somewhere,” she said gaily. “Good-bye, Lord Romar.”
 
“Good-bye, serra Kirra. Travel safely. And thank you again—for my life.”
 
KIRRA and her party kept to the back roads as they traveled westward for the rest of the afternoon, angling south in the direction of Ghosenhall. They did not bother with much conversation. Donnal, still in wolf shape though Romar Brendyn was miles away, was clearly not in a position to talk. Justin, in the lead, and Cammon, at the rear, were watching closely for any sight of bandits or other kinds of trouble. Kirra was lost in her own thoughts, which tended to self-absorption.
 
Ridiculous, really, to feel so low. Anyone would have been attracted to Romar under the fabulously romantic circumstances of their escapade. He probably wouldn’t seem nearly as appealing next time she saw him, at an interminable royal dinner or some Kianlever ball. Or discussing strategy with the king, going on and on about the hopelessly boring topics of manpower and deployment. Then he would seem quite ordinary, even dull.
 
She probably should have accompanied him to Merrenstow. Met his wife. That would have cured her of this slight infatuation.
 
She would have to start flirting madly the minute she returned to Ghosenhall. Maybe Darryn Rappengrass would be in the royal city with a missive from his mother. Maybe a Storian lord would come by, resplendent with self-importance and glamour. There was always someone suitable for dalliance at the royal court.
 
Except she wasn’t going to Ghosenhall. Not just yet.
 
She didn’t break this news to her traveling companions till the following morning, when she judged they were so far from the Merrenstow men that there was no possibility Romar would change his mind and come after them.
 
“Well, this has been enjoyable, almost like last winter,” she said, shaking out her riding skirts and preparing to mount. “But here’s where the group breaks up. Donnal and I are going on to Danalustrous. I don’t know when we’ll be back in Ghosenhall.”
 
She saw by his expression that she had managed to surprise even Cammon, and Justin’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “When did you decide this?” the Rider asked.
 
“I should have been back in Danalustrous two weeks ago. I had a letter from my father telling me he wanted me home. But then the news came about Romar and the king asked me to join the expedition to rescue him, so I—” She shrugged. “So I let my father wait. But he never waits patiently for long.”
 
Justin glanced at Cammon with his eyebrows raised, and the mystic shook his head. Justin turned back to Kirra. “We’re in no hurry to get home,” he said. “We’ll accompany you to Danalustrous.”
 
Funny.
That
she hadn’t foreseen at all. “Oh, Justin, don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m perfectly safe traveling a few hundred miles with Donnal.”
 
“You’ll be safer traveling with us.”
 
“Justin. I have crisscrossed Gillengaria by myself, or with only Donnal beside me, more times than I can count. I’m always on the move. It’s one of the reasons my father has summoned me home—I haven’t been inside Danalustrous for six months or more. I am perfectly able to take care of myself, and I won’t be alone. You don’t have to have any fears for my safety.”
 
The Rider looked unconvinced. “And if someone attacks you on the road? Bandits, like those we came across just the other day? You and Donnal alone aren’t strong enough to fight them off.”
 
“We don’t have to be,” she said patiently. “We can run faster than they can chase. We can fly. We’ll be fine.”
 
“But if something happened to you,” he argued, “what would I tell Senneth? What would I tell Tayse?”
 
“What would we tell Romar Brendyn?” Cammon asked, earning a sharp look from Kirra. But his face remained innocent. “He left you to our care, you know. He never would have ridden back to Merrenstow without you if he’d thought you’d be going on to Danalustrous alone.”
 
“I know,” she said, giving him a smile of some mischief. “That’s why I didn’t mention it to him.”
 
“I don’t think Tayse would let you ride on alone,” Justin said.
 
“I don’t think Tayse would be able to stop me if I decided to change shapes and slip off in the night,” she said. “I don’t think you’ll be able to, either. And I don’t want you coming after me to Danalustrous to make sure I’ve made it safely,” she added because his speculative expression made her guess his intent. “Justin! You know what I’m capable of! You know you don’t have to be afraid for me!”
 
“She’s right,” Cammon said to Justin. To Kirra he added, “I wouldn’t mind riding to Danalustrous and meeting your father, but I don’t think we have to go. I don’t think you need us.”
 
“Thank you,” Kirra said, and kissed him on the cheek.
 
Justin was still thinking it over, his face creased, his eyes troubled. Kirra knew that it was Tayse’s opinion, more than anyone else’s, that Justin valued, that he was trying to determine what decision Tayse would make in a similar situation. Last winter, they had all seen evidence that Tayse would lay down his sword, sacrifice his life, to save Senneth’s; Tayse would refuse to abandon Senneth no matter how little she might appear to need him, and Senneth was the most powerful mystic in the kingdom. By that code of conduct, Kirra knew, Justin would consider himself honor bound to protect Kirra, no matter how she swore she could protect herself.
 
Still, Tayse was in love with Senneth. That changed every equation.
 
“Anyone else who asked this of me, man or woman, I would refuse,” Justin said finally, slowly. “I would insist on following to the end destination, if my charge was to keep that person secure. But I do believe you are as safe solitary as you are under my protection. And may the Bright Lady forgive me if that turns out not to be true.”
 
Kirra was actually surprised. She was all poised to tumble into anger when he stubbornly refused to abandon her on the road. “Thank you,” she said, her voice a little faint. “I think this is the nicest compliment you’ve ever paid me.”
 
He grinned. He still seemed uneasy, but she thought he would abide by his decision. “The only compliment, I think,” he said.
 
“
I
can’t recall any others,” Cammon said.
 
Still, the moment was slightly awkward; all partings were, Kirra thought. “Good, then,” she said, making her voice brisk. “Let’s divide the rations and be on our way.”
 
That was quickly done. From horseback, they all waved and called out farewells. “Send word from Danalustrous that you’re safe,” Justin shouted back at her a few moments after he and Cammon had set off. “Or I really will come after you, and you don’t want that.”
 
“
You
in Danan Hall?” she called back in mock horror. “I’ll do anything to prevent it! Ride safely.”
 
“You, too.”
 
It was a relief to be on her way finally. She clucked to the horse and felt it move smoothly underneath her, straight west. Automatically, she looked around for Donnal, to find him a few yards ahead of her, investigating some scent on the rocky ground. As if feeling her gaze, he glanced back, his amber eyes very dark in his white wolf’s face. It was so odd to look at such a foreign creature and know exactly what he was thinking, to feel such kinship with him that it was almost like talking to a familiar ghost or a manifestation of herself.
 
“Lead the way,” she said. “Danalustrous.”
 
CHAPTER
7
 
K
IRRA and Donnal were on the road four days before they made Danan Hall. The trip would have gone much faster if she indeed had changed to hawk or falcon or even songbird shape and navigated the miles by air. But there was the horse to consider—a fine black mare from her father’s stables who deserved a better fate than to be set loose in the countryside. If danger threatened and Kirra had to assume animal shape, of course Kirra would leave the mare behind. But no such crisis occurred. They traveled steadily through unaligned territory, just below the southern tip of Tilt and above the northern boundary of Storian. They easily navigated the open land that smoothed from Tilt’s rocky gullies to the green undulating hills of eastern Danalustrous. They met no trouble at all along the way.
 
Kirra had always loved these solitary journeys, no one but Donnal to share the time with. Even in human shape, he was a taciturn and undemanding companion, able to go days without speaking if she did not appear in the mood for conversation. On the other hand, if she was feeling low, he could entertain her for hours with stories picked up from disreputable relatives and his handful of friends. He had a charming, easy way of telling tales and a subtle sense of humor. Though he showed it to almost no one but her.
 
At night, she sometimes built a fire and sometimes did not. It was late spring, so the nights never grew too cold. And anyway, Donnal slept always with his body to Kirra’s back, the heat pouring through his thick fur to warm her skin. A couple of times she changed shape before she slept, making herself into a fox or a lion or a wolf, just because it was more comfortable that way when she was faced with a cold camp and a hard bed. She felt safer in animal shape, too, as likely as Donnal to catch any hint of danger that might creep up on them in the night.
 
But nothing threatened them. Nothing slowed their progress. They crossed into Danalustrous property on the morning of the fourth day.
 
Almost instantly, Kirra was aware of passing some invisible boundary. The holdings of the twelve marlords were a mix of land owned outright and land held by vassals who paid a complex series of taxes in return for protection and some recognition of status. These were the lesser aristocrats who made up the Thirteenth House, who were far enough down the hierarchy of power to never expect to inherit the great lands surrounding the Twelve Houses, but who nevertheless had connections of blood and history binding them to the highest lords. There had always been some jealousy between ranks, Kirra knew, but also a great deal of pride. A Danalustrous vassal wore Danalustrous red and gold, quoted Malcolm Danalustrous’s every pronouncement and considered himself a faithful, integral part of House Danalustrous.
 
In turn, Malcolm considered them all in some sense an extension of himself, his land, his holdings. All the marlords did, of course, but with Malcolm—as in so many instances—the intensity of the possessiveness was several degrees higher. He could tell you—often, to the dismay of his daughters,
insisted
on telling you—who owned every square inch of property in the entire domain, who had owned it before that tenant, and when the land had changed hands. He seemed to know when rain fell along the coastline, when drought hit the southern croplands, even before a rider arrived with the news. It was as if the land itself communicated with him, sent its heartbeat of buried river and seasonal blooming like a slow, steady pulse into Malcolm’s body. So often that it had long ago ceased to surprise her, Kirra had come across her father standing motionless and alone, his head cocked to one side, his eyes fixed on nothing, simply listening. She had asked him several times what he was doing, and he had only shaken his head. “Noticing things,” he had answered once or twice. Or, “Concentrating.” Her only conclusion had been that he had been giving his whole attention to Danalustrous itself.
 
It was Senneth’s theory that all mystics drew their power from one of the old, forgotten gods. These days, most of Gillengaria worshipped the Pale Mother, the moon goddess, but Senneth believed her ability to call fire came directly from the goddess of the sun. The Wild Mother, who extended her protection to all the animals of the realm, perhaps watched over shiftlings like Donnal and Kirra. Who knew what strange deity might give Cammon his uncommon gifts? Kirra had never heard of a land god, a divinity with power over the soil and rocks themselves, but if there was one, she was sure it had laid its hand across Malcolm Danalustrous.

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