Cammon stood up, tossed his cards to the middle of the bed, and crossed to the window seat. Falling to a crouch, he took Kirra’s blemished hand in his. “Let me see that.”
Kirra shared a startled look with Senneth. “So you’re a healer now?” she asked.
“No,” he said absently and turned her wrist this way and that. Justin and Tayse had put down their cards and twisted on the bed to watch. Donnal sat up and gently panted. “Well, then,” Cammon said after a few moments, and frowned as if in great concentration. The rest of them looked at each other, looked at him, tried not to laugh. No one said anything. Kirra could feel a strange sensation dance along her wristbone and up her arm, and for a moment her whole body felt odd, as if she was standing outside just as a thunderstorm was about to pass through. Then all the hair on her body smoothed down again, and Cammon released her. “There you go,” he said.
She said cautiously, “There I go what?”
“I don’t think you’ll feel it now. A moonstone will still scald you, so you need to be careful, but at least you won’t feel it when it happens.”
Again Kirra looked silently at Senneth. “Well, let’s just try that,” she said and held her arm out. Senneth stripped off her bracelet and laid it across Kirra’s flesh.
Nothing. Cool textures of metal and smooth gem against her skin. Kirra felt a little shiver go up her back. “That’s awfully strange,” she said, trying to keep her voice normal.
Cammon pushed the bracelet off so it fell into Senneth’s lap. “But be
careful
,” he repeated. “See, you’re getting a mark already.”
Senneth was watching him very closely. “When did you learn this particular trick?” she asked. “I can’t imagine it’s in Jerril’s repertoire. Have you been studying with someone else in Ghosenhall?”
He looked surprised. Kirra thought that surprise was probably the expression most often to be found on Cammon’s face. Surprise or happiness. “No, I just thought it was something I might be able to do,” he said. “You know, divert her mind.”
Senneth continued to watch him. Justin snorted and picked up his cards again. “Good thing
we’re
the ones who found him in Dormas,” he said. “I’d hate to have him working for the king’s enemies.”
“What else can you do?” Senneth asked very softly.
Cammon shrugged. “I don’t know. A lot of stuff, I guess. Ask me something.”
“I will—when I can think of the right questions,” she said. “But Justin’s right. We need to make sure you’re always
our
friend.”
Again, surprise on Cammon’s face. “Of course you’ll always be my friends. I don’t even have any other friends.”
“You would if anyone knew what you could do,” Tayse said. He was sorting through a fresh hand, aligning cards, and he seemed completely unfazed. For a man who, just six months ago, had distrusted mystics with all the considerable force of his personality, Tayse seemed remarkably at ease with them now, Kirra thought. It wasn’t just because he loved Senneth. It was because he had decided mystics were just another weapon, like a sword or a bow, and he figured he had a pretty good arsenal lined up. For Tayse, everything came back to strategy and strength.
Justin looked back at Cammon. “So are you playing or not? Since you’re our friend, I dealt you in.”
Cammon scrambled to his feet and launched himself toward the bed. Kirra and Senneth exchanged glances again. This time, Kirra was laughing. “Hey, you’re the one who found him,” she said.
“And what a good day that was,” Senneth said with a sigh. “So what’s your plan? Do you have one?”
“I think tonight. After the dinner. Doesn’t Eloise have some game organized where we break into teams and perform skits?”
Senneth rolled her eyes. “I cannot imagine how I will get through that.”
“I think Toland Storian might be induced to behave a little too rambunctiously with the princess. You might need to rescue her with sharp words or—who knows?—some kind of display. You might warn the princess that things are going to get ugly.”
Senneth was regarding her soberly. “And how exactly are you going to induce him to be stupid?”
Kirra laughed. This was the fun part. It was about time something in Kianlever was fun. “That’s my problem. Don’t you worry.”
IN fact, it was ridiculously easy. One of her dinner partners that night was a young lord from Tilt named Raegon, who was about as cocky as Toland Storian. In fact, the two young men were fast friends, and Kirra had seen them taunt each other into disreputable behavior a couple of times during this visit. She—well, Casserah—had not been particularly friendly to Raegon so far, but this night she made an effort to charm him in Casserah’s sleepy, beguiling way. She watched him from those wide-set blue eyes, an enigmatic smile on her face, and refused to give him complete answers when he asked her a direct question.
“Red and silver hell,” he exclaimed under his breath at one point. “You’re the strangest girl. Is it always this hard to talk to you?”
“So don’t talk to me,” she said, and then she laughed at him. “Though
I
like talking to
you.
”
He glanced quickly around the table, as if suddenly remembering their conversation could be audited by six other people. “Maybe you’ll be easier to understand when there aren’t so many people around,” he said.
“Maybe,” she agreed, and sipped from her water glass, watching him over the rim. “There’s a game tonight. After the dinner. I don’t know if it will be that interesting.”
He nodded, his mouth pulling back in a wide and rather frightening smile. Kirra wondered if Cammon would know whether this man enjoyed forced liaisons with the servants, too. “I’m sure it won’t be,” he said.
So they had a rendezvous out in the gardens, a few hedgerows over from the windows of the dining hall so no one would witness them. Kirra saw no way to prevent him from kissing her, not if she wanted this little caper to work. As he took her in a clumsy and rather drunken embrace, she spared a moment to hope no one else was wandering the gardens tonight for a little late-night breath of air. Romar Brendyn, for instance, who snuck out every evening for a break from the crowds and the vapidity. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the unpleasant feel of Raegon’s mouth pressing hard against hers, and she ran her hand in a kind of caress along the smooth silk of his jacket.
He pulled back from her abruptly, one hand to his mouth, one hand to his stomach. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I think—damnation—all of a sudden my stomach—serra, I believe I’m going to be sick.”
He was, all over one of Eloise’s prized rosebushes, and more than once. Kirra fluttered nearby, offering phrases of sympathy and helplessness. She’d never really used her powers of healing in reverse before, making the body turn against itself in a moment of deep revulsion, and she hoped she hadn’t been too enthusiastic. Then again, Raegon had had about a bottle and a half of wine with dinner; it would probably do him some good to expel some of that alcohol.
“I think you’d better go back to your room, ser,” she said, trying to sound concerned. “Shall I have Eloise send someone to you? There must be someone at the house with knowledge of herbs and healing.”
He wrenched himself upright and staggered toward the door. “No—I’d rather be alone—in my misery,” he gasped out. “I apologize, Casserah. I will feel—foolish—tomorrow.”
“Just go to your room,” she said. “Tomorrow will take care of itself.”
He nodded, rested for a moment with his hand on the wall, then stumbled through the door and inside.
It was a matter of a few moments to transform herself into Raegon, silk jacket, insolent smile, and all. Imitating his self-important swagger, she sauntered back into the house, found the salon where the guests were gathered, and looked around.
The diners had already been divided into groups of about ten people, and each group was clustered together, arguing over some plan. Kirra was not surprised to see Toland Storian and three or four other young lords had been assigned—or had appropriated—places in Amalie’s circle. Senneth and Valri hovered nearby, watching but not participating. Valri sat in a chair a few feet from Amalie and observed her with that usual unnerving attention. Senneth stood against the wall and practically blended into the stone and brickwork. Kirra grinned. Not for long.
She strolled over to join her supposed friends. “I missed the explanation, whatever it was,” she said, her voice a low drawl. “What’s the game?”
Toland gave her a grin; the others ignored her. “We need to come up with a skit,” he said, “to act out a word. We’re trying to decide on our word.”
“I think it should be hard to guess,” Amalie said. “If no one guesses, we win a prize.”
“I think it should be an easy word,” Toland said.
“Here’s an easy word,” Kirra said, still in that sneering drawl. “How about
dance
?”
And she surprised the princess by pulling her into Raegon’s arms and twirling her once around. There was a moment when Amalie looked disconcerted, but then her face smoothed out. She freed herself and stepped back. “That one is
too
easy,” she said.
“We need a word with several parts,” said one of the other young lords. “Like
waterfall.
We could act that out in two sections.”
Toland mimed slipping and falling to the floor. “Like that?”
“Yes, but what would we do for
water
?” Kirra asked.
“Maybe we need something that would be really hard to guess,” Amalie said. “Like
counterfeit.
”
“Are they giving prizes for things that are impossible?” someone inquired.
“I think it should be an easy word,” Toland said.
Kirra gave him a nudge. “Like what? Got a word in mind?”
He grinned at her. “Like
drink
.” He downed his glass of wine, set it on a table, and motioned a servant to refill it.
“Like
curtsey
,” Kirra said, attempting the maneuver while wearing trousers, which caused a general laugh.
“Like
smile
,” said Toland.
“Like
kiss
,” Kirra suggested.
It was the word they had all been circling around, and there was a nervous, speculative laugh from the men. “Shouldn’t it be something harder than that?” Amalie asked.
Kirra was smirking at Toland, poking him in the side. “So?
Kiss?
What do you think? How would we act that out?”
He grinned back, tossing his head a little. “You just want to start trouble.”
“I just want to play the game! Asking you a simple question. How would you act it out? Can you think of a way?”
A certain deviltry crept into Toland’s expression. “Well, let’s see. I’d take someone’s hand—” He caught Amalie’s fingers in his. Her face registered just a faint touch of alarm. “And I’d pull her closer to me—”
“I don’t think I like this word,” Amalie said. She put her free hand against his chest and pushed. But Toland was the sort of man who rather liked a little struggle, and her rejection just made him hold her closer.
“And I’d put my hand under her chin—” he said, suiting action to the words and dropping his mouth very close to hers. “And then—”
“Toland, don’t,” Amalie pleaded. “Everyone is staring.”
“Then I’d kiss her.”
Then he kissed her.
Then he caught on fire.
Shrieking, he flung the princess away; she stumbled into Valri’s arms. Still screaming, he beat at the flames on his chest, his thighs, with hands that were also on fire. Flames licked from his hair, down his spine. He spun from side to side, waving his arms, crying, but all his friends backed away from him, stunned, horrified. Everyone else in the room pressed closer, staring or calling out in panic or covering their eyes and turning away. Kirra didn’t even see Tayse drive through the crowd, but suddenly there he was, sword tip held directly to Toland’s burning throat.