But the point was obvious to Kirra. “He was telling them they had done a lousy job of protecting you when they had the chance, and now that it was his job, he wouldn’t fail.”
Senneth nodded. “Yes. And Kiernan at least got the message.”
“So, how did it go? With you and Kiernan?”
Senneth leaned back against the headboard and stretched her legs out again. “We were not easy with each other. I have much to forgive, and I haven’t really forgiven. And he’s a hard man to like in general. If I met him in Baryn’s dining room, knowing nothing about him, I would not be drawn to him for his wit and charm. He is very stern. He is practically humorless. But—there
is
something about him. An honesty. A sense of honor. I believe he will always do what he perceives to be the right thing, even if it is bitter. Seventeen years ago, he thought my father was right to cast me out of Brassenthwaite. But he said he came to regret that decision even before my father died—and, Kirra, I believed him. I think he would have searched for me and welcomed me back—with as much emotion as Kiernan is able to muster—even if I was not a powerful woman who could offer him alliances. Just because it was the right thing to do. So I found myself respecting him. And I found myself not hating him. That was more than I had expected.”
“And Nate?”
Senneth waved a hand. “Oh, Nate is the most infuriating man! So righteous and
not
very smart. But I was able to find a few good points in him, too, while I was there. He believes in Kiernan, that’s one thing. And his passion for hierarchy and order leads him to try very hard to live up to his part of the bargain. He’s a good landlord, a good master, very fair. And he is absolutely loyal to his king. He has
no
idea what to do with me, but he thinks it’s right that they take me back in. He’d like to see me married off to someone in Rappengrass or Helven—build an alliance, you know—but he accepted it when I flat out told him no. I’m sure we’ll have other battles, though.”
“And what about the others? Aren’t there two younger boys?”
Senneth grinned. “Hardly boys anymore. Harris is thirty and Will is twenty-seven. I didn’t see much of Harris—he’s married, can you believe it, and lives on property of his own. But Will was there. It was wonderful to see him again. He was always my favorite when I was growing up. He told me he cried every night for a year after I was turned out of the house.”
Kirra was frowning, trying to do bloodlines in her head. “Kiernan’s married, isn’t he?”
“Yes. To a Brassenthwaite girl. The most patient woman you could possibly imagine. They’ve got two boys and a girl now—who found Aunt Senneth a
very
peculiar individual. Nate’s not married, though. No one said why, though I had some idea there was a disappointment in love. Hard to picture, but I suppose even Nate has a heart.”
“Well! I think it sounds like a most successful trip! The prodigal child returns to a warm reunion with her family and they talk—what? Politics? Strategies? Or family reminiscences?”
“Only Will and I talked over old times. With Kiernan and Nate, it was mostly strategy. They were very interested in my tales from our trip last winter. We sat there—sometimes for whole, uninterrupted days—in front of a map of Gillengaria, arguing over which Houses are loyal and which ones are likely to betray the crown. And, of course, we could never be sure.”
“I guess that’s something we can try to find out,” Kirra said, “when we go off on our giddy social whirl.”
“So, tell me about you!” Senneth exclaimed. “Why did your father send you here? And
what
happened on the road to Tilt?”
“Oh, the trip to Tilt was a lot of fun,” Kirra said, and launched into the tale. “I was glad to turn the regent over to his own men, though,” she said as she finished up.
“What did you think of him? Once you’d spent a few days with him?”
I thought he was the most fascinating man I’ve ever met.
“Will he be a good regent?” she said instead. “I give him high marks for loyalty, passion, leadership, and intelligence. He was a little too eager to risk himself, which probably plays well in Merrenstow but won’t be so smart in Ghosenhall. But all in all I thought the king could hardly have made a better choice.”
“Cammon liked him,” Senneth said.
Kirra spread her hands. “There you have it, then. Cammon is never wrong about people.”
“Justin liked him, too.”
“Another ringing endorsement! Since Justin hates everybody.”
“I’ve only had about three brief conversations with Lord Romar, but I confess he appealed to me as well,” Senneth said. “So, we are all agreed that he is an excellent choice—except that people want to kill him.”
“Maybe that will be the next charge the king gives you,” Kirra said, trying to make her voice flippant though Senneth’s words had bruised her heart. “Protecting the regent.”
Senneth sighed. “No, I still appear to be carrying out my most recent commission—protecting the princess.”
“And how is
that
going? I met her today, for what must have been the first time since she was a child.”
“What did you think of her?”
Kirra considered. “I thought she was a very mature eighteen. But still eighteen. You’re the one who’s been spending time with her. What do you think?”
“Well, now, that’s the interesting thing,” Senneth said. “I haven’t spent that much time with her at all. I’ve been beside her half a dozen times in the past month—at the king’s summer ball, a few dinners in Ghosenhall, things like that—but I’m never
alone
with her. Valri is always standing right next to me. Usually right between me and the princess. Even when I have a few moments alone with the girl, I have trouble guessing what she’s thinking. She’s something of a cipher. Her face is very alert—her eyes are always watching. But she never comments. I can’t tell if she’s a wise child or a silly girl. It makes me a little nervous.”
“Maybe you’ll get more of a chance to talk with her when you travel. Milo said you’d be going to Kianlever.”
Senneth nodded. “Doing the entire summer circuit. And so will Valri.”
Kirra’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought the queen never traveled.”
“She’s making an exception this year.”
“I foresee an entertaining summer season,” Kirra said. “At least we won’t have to attend any balls in Gisseltess!”
Senneth laughed. “No, for Halchon is under interdiction, though I’m sure he’s still plotting against the king. And Coralinda is still sending her Daughters out into the southern provinces, stirring up ill will against the mystics. But at least, as you say, she won’t be arranging any grand masques in Gisseltess, so that’s something to be thankful for.”
“So—nothing has changed, really, since this past winter,” Kirra said slowly. “We’re still dancing around with all the marlords, trying to determine loyalties. Halchon Gisseltess is still scheming, and Coralinda is still spreading poison. And the princess is still mysterious, and no one knows anything about Queen Valri.”
“Yes,” Senneth said. “We’re exactly where we were three months ago.”
“Except that you’re in love with a King’s Rider.”
“Ah. Well.
That’s
different.”
“So what happens next? With you and Tayse?”
Senneth shook her head. “I don’t know. I think what happens next is whatever unfolds in Gillengaria. Most of our attention will go to that.”
Kirra yawned and shook back her hair. She concentrated a moment on calling up the colors and proportions of Casserah’s body. “Gods and goddesses, but I’m tired. We’ll have to talk more tomorrow. Don’t make the mistake of forgetting who I’m supposed to be.”
Senneth watched her until the transformation was complete. “Don’t make the mistake of forgetting who you really are.”
THE morning was taken up with a formal breakfast and an exceedingly dull conversation with a woman from Merrenstow who had decided she wanted to form a close friendship with Casserah. When Kirra was able to escape, she looked around for Senneth but couldn’t find her. So she collected Donnal from where he lay behind the kitchen, sleeping in the sun with about fifteen other dogs, and headed down to the training yard.
The palace complex was so huge that it was practically a small city, divided into districts and graced with dozens of parks and gardens. One whole neighborhood belonged to the King’s Riders, the fifty elite fighters personally chosen by the king, who devoted their lives to serving their liege. Many of them clustered in a large, well-appointed barracks, though a handful lived in their own cottages situated nearby. These were the few who were married and had children. Most Riders preferred not to allow such distractions in their lives.
Kirra wondered if Senneth and Tayse might take possession of one of those homes. It was hard to picture. Senneth was such a wanderer it was difficult to believe she would ever settle in one place, and Tayse did not project the image of a man it would be possible to domesticate. She decided she would go shopping for housewarming presents, some embroidered pillows, perhaps, or monogrammed bedsheets, and present these gifts with a totally innocent air.
I thought—I just assumed—won’t you be setting up house together?
The thought made her grin.
Not far from the barracks were the extensive fields where the fifty Riders and their assorted trainers could take part in daily fighting practice. Kirra could not remember any time she had passed by these enclosed areas and seen them empty. Often there were spectators leaning against the fences—young girls who thought the Riders were handsome, teenage boys dreaming of being Riders themselves one day, merchants who had come with their families to tour the royal city for a week and who did not want to miss one of the most impressive sights Ghosenhall had to offer.
Kirra had thought Senneth might be among the gawkers, but she was out of luck again. However, eight or nine other people were already stationed along the main fence, standing on the lowest rail or resting an elbow on the top one, watching the Riders trade blows. Kirra was not even remotely interested in the finer points of combat, but she paused anyway just out of curiosity. Yes, there were twenty or twenty-five men swinging swords at each other’s heads and looking as if they were determined to achieve a decapitation before the morning was over. Another group had stripped down to their trousers and were going at each other with bare hands, while their muscled bodies gleamed most interestingly from a combination of sweat and sunlight. Still others were on horseback, charging forward and rearing back. The yard rang with triumphant shouts and the clang of metal on metal.
Donnal settled on his haunches and peered through the lower bars of the fence, watching the maneuvers with more attention than the average hound would muster. To please him, Kirra lingered. She wondered if he might be tempted to turn human for a day or two if it meant he’d have a chance to work out against the Riders.
It was only after she had been watching the combatants for a few minutes that Kirra realized she actually knew some of them. Not twenty yards away, battling it out on foot, were Tayse and Cammon. Tayse was the one she spotted first. He was big, both tall and brawny, and if he wanted to he could dominate a room with his physical presence. His black hair and dark eyes added menace to a face that was intense even during his lighthearted moments, which were few. And even Kirra, who knew nothing about swordplay, could tell that he handled a blade with exquisite ruthlessness.
But Cammon did not appear to be dead, even mock-dead, since Tayse was seeming to find it difficult to land a blow. More of Cammon’s uncanny sensitivity; it was impossible to take the boy by surprise. Kirra watched as Tayse dropped his sword and said something to Cammon. From the expression on the dark face, it looked like the Rider was offering high praise to the mystic. Kirra could not help but smile.
And then Cammon looked over at her and gave a shout.
In the ten seconds it took him to reach her, she had a chance to make sure she
did
actually look like her sister, she
had
actually remembered to hold her disguise as she left her room this morning. But, of course, subterfuge was completely lost on Cammon.
“Kirra! What are you doing here? When did you arrive? Hey, Donnal. See, I told Justin you were both safe.”
Kirra made a hushing sound and looked around, but none of the other spectators were likely to know who Kirra was. “No, no, don’t call me that!” she hissed. “I’m Casserah—I’m Kirra’s sister. And this is a dog.”