“Camping out? Cooking our food over an open fire?” Amalie exclaimed. “That will be so much fun!”
“Spiders in your hair by morning and nowhere to wash up,” Kirra said. “Not as much fun as you think.”
Valri did not look as horrified as Kirra had expected. The queen turned a searching look on Senneth. “Do you think we’ll be safe here?”
“I think that’s why we travel with so many soldiers around us,” Senneth said. “And we have ways to protect ourselves.”
“It might be a good idea to change our schedule unexpectedly,” said Romar, still lingering at Amalie’s side. “I approve.”
The whole caravan was already engaged in the business of making camp as efficiently as possible. Colton had moved the main group off the road, where soldiers had already trampled out a clearing big enough to hold the men, the horses, and all three carriages. Now some went foraging for fuel, some for water.
“The men have enough dried rations to last a few days,” Colton said, reporting to Senneth. “But what about the princess? Should we make her a meal from the items we can throw together?”
“We’ll have game. Donnal’s hunting,” Senneth said. “And I might send serra Casserah off to look for edibles. I’m sure she’s had much practice in such an activity during her soft life in Danalustrous.”
Kirra had to restrain herself from making a face. In fact, Casserah never spent time in the wild, but Kirra had wide experience scavenging for berries, roots, and nuts, and she could live off the land for a long time if she had to. Longer in animal than human shape.
“Let me know if you need any contributions from the men of Merrenstow,” Colton said, and went off to review everyone’s progress.
Kirra checked in with Melly, to find her unenthusiastic about the prospect of camping overnight but resigned to the thought. She even volunteered to go foraging with Kirra. “And I can cook, too, venison or pheasant or whatever your man brings back,” Melly said. “As long as we’re stuck here, I may as well make myself useful.”
They were gone about an hour and came back in early golden evening to find a cozy sight: smoke rising from four fires, blankets laid like tablecloths along the ground, the coaches pulled off the road and arranged in a line, soldiers deployed in tidy rings around the whole encampment. Kirra and Melly had stumbled across a stand of wild apple trees, so they had picked anything that looked halfway ripe, and they distributed the extra fruit among the soldiers. Melly had also dug up some kind of tubers that she said would roast well among the coals and taste like rather mealy bread, so they had returned with a basket of these as well. Donnal had brought back four grouse, and Justin had matched him in squirrels, and so they had more than enough for their own particular group of diners.
“Squirrel stew,” Kirra said with a sigh, dumping all her treasures beside the central fire. “I can hardly wait.”
Much to her surprise, Valri was kneeling before the fire and already stirring up a base in a cookpot that Colton or some other kind soul had lent the royal party. Since when could the queen cook rough fare on the open road? Valri exclaimed in pleasure when Melly handed her a fistful of limp leaves snatched from a wild patch of herbs.
“This will be tastier than you expect,” Valri told Kirra. “You’re actually going to like this meal.”
Indeed, they all had a splendid time. The fresh air or the extra work or the necessity for improvising had given them all huge appetites, and there was a certain air of gaiety generated by the very unexpectedness of their situation. A congenial group gathered around their own fire—Senneth, Kirra, Donnal, Justin, Tayse, Cammon, Romar, Amalie, Valri, and Melly—and no one seemed too worried about rank or protocol. The food was excellent and everyone said so, eating additional portions until the pot was emptied. No one was eager to leave the campfire once the meal was over, so they lingered, talking idly in divided groups. Valri and Melly discussed recipes that could be made from game and roadside spices. Justin showed Romar a few tricks he’d learned with the knife that the regent had given him. Senneth sat with her back against Tayse’s chest, her head half turned so she could smile up at him when he spoke to her in a low voice that no one else could overhear. Kirra, Amalie, Cammon, and Donnal played a card game and argued over who might be cheating. Kirra sat so close to Donnal that her shoulder rested against his and she could, if she wanted to, read every card in his hand.
“I think it’s the princess who’s cheating,” Donnal said. “Everyone thinks it’s Cammon because he can read minds, but I think the princess considers it a royal right that she win the game.”
Amalie was not at all offended by the accusation. “Well, I think it would be
kind
of you to let me win, but I’m not cheating. I don’t understand the game well enough to even try!” she said. “But can Cammon really read minds?”
“No,” Cammon replied.
“Yes,” Kirra and Donnal said in unison.
Amalie made her face very serious and pointed at him with a regal finger. “Explain. Your princess commands you.”
“I
can’t
read minds,” he said. “But sometimes I can tell what people are thinking. Especially when they’re feeling strong emotions like rage or fear. Then it’s like someone’s shouting at me. But it comes through as—as—” He gestured broadly. “It’s like someone’s standing on the other side of the room waving a brightly colored flag. It’s not like I hear words. It’s not like I hear someone’s voice in my head. Not yet, anyway.”
“Not yet?” Kirra repeated. “Not
yet
?”
“That’s something we’re working on. Jerril and Areel and me.”
“Those are his magical tutors in Ghosenhall,” Kirra informed Amalie.
“We’re trying to learn to communicate words without speaking them out loud. But so far we’re not having much success. The most that comes through is a sort of feeling. Like, I don’t
hear
Jerril tell me ‘run,’ but I have a sudden urge to go dashing through the house.”
“And can you send the same thought to Jerril?” Donnal asked.
Cammon nodded. “Usually. But Jerril is more sensitive than anyone I’ve ever met. I don’t have as much luck with Areel.”
“Can you send some kind of thought to me?” Donnal asked.
Cammon considered. “I don’t know. I could try.”
“Is it more likely to work because Donnal’s a mystic?” Amalie asked.
“I don’t know that, either,” Cammon said. “I can usually read Tayse’s and Justin’s moods, and they’re not mystics. But I don’t know if I could send thoughts to them. I haven’t tried.”
“I can’t see Justin enjoying that much,” Kirra said.
Cammon laughed. “Oh, Justin’s coming around. Once he starts to think magic is useful, he doesn’t mind so much if it intrudes on him.”
“Come on,” Donnal said. “Tell me something without words.”
They all fell silent and waited expectantly. Kirra could feel Donnal sitting beside her, all muscles relaxed, open and ready for anything that might come his way. Cammon sat across from him, face furrowed in a frown, looking down at his hands. Kirra glanced up to find Tayse, Senneth, Justin, and Romar all watching this little exercise with interest. Romar appeared bewildered, but the other three were intent. They had seen some of Cammon’s magic before.
After about five minutes, Donnal straightened enough to make Kirra pull away. Casually he began to whistle, a soft little tune that Kirra couldn’t identify. The expression on his face was inquiring, as if to say,
Have I got it right?
Cammon laughed, half pleased and half rueful. “I wanted you to sing,” he said. “But that’s pretty close.”
Donnal quit whistling and started smiling. “That was a strange feeling,” he said. “I just had this odd thought in my head. ‘Now would be a good time to make music.’ Just wandered in and sat there with all my other less-interesting thoughts. I was pretty sure it wasn’t my own idea.”
“ ‘I lost my love to the southern sea,’ ” Amalie said.
Everyone looked at her, even the four sitting a few feet away. “What?” Kirra said.
“‘I lost my love to the southern sea,’” Amalie repeated. “That’s the song Cammon wanted you to sing.”
“I don’t know any song like that,” Donnal said.
Kirra was struck by the look on Cammon’s face. Astonishment. Spiced with excitement. “I did have a song in mind,” he admitted. “But I don’t know the name of it. It’s just a tune I used to hear when we were crossing the ocean from Arberharst.”
“That’s the first line,” Amalie said. Completely without self-consciousness, she began singing in a soft, sweet voice. “‘I lost my love to the southern sea/One night when the moon sank low/I lost my love and I’ll never be/The man you once used to know.’”
“That’s it,” Cammon said, and now his odd, speckled eyes snapped with eagerness. “That’s the melody.”
“I heard you,” she said. “I heard it in my head.”
Kirra looked at the princess, looked at Cammon, and then turned her head a little so she could see Senneth, whose face was expressionless. But Senneth wasn’t paying attention to Kirra; she was watching Valri.
Whose green eyes were wide in her pale white face and who showed fear in every line of her tightly clenched body.
SUMMER dark came late, and they were all ready to seek their beds. The queen and the princess took shelter in their own carriage, whose axle had been repaired just as true dark fell. Colton’s impromptu carpenters had found no evidence of tampering with the rods or wheels, but they admitted they might not be able to tell now that the frame had splintered. In any case, it was safe for the two women to climb inside, though Amalie had expressed an interest in sleeping on the ground before the campfire. Valri vetoed that without hesitation, and Amalie meekly ducked her head to follow the queen into the coach.
Cammon and Donnal headed to the points Tayse had assigned them, the Riders fanned out around the carriage, and the others arranged themselves as suited them best. Kirra was relieved to see that Romar planned to spend the night alongside the Merrenstow soldiers. She and Senneth and Melly unrolled their blankets around the central fire, though Kirra had a suspicion Senneth might end up lying by Tayse as he guarded the princess’s sleep. She could even argue that she belonged there, close enough to Amalie to leap to action should danger threaten.
Though such an event seemed unlikely. Senneth had warned the whole assembly, then generated a thin, flickering wall of fire that snaked around the entire campsite with red-and-gold protection.
Danalustrous colors,
Kirra thought. She heard more than one soldier gasp or curse as the flames went up, saw a few of them creep close enough to touch. Yes, it was hot; it scorched unwary fingers. But it would not burn the soil or the grass or the trees nearby, and it would last all night, even while Senneth slept. So operated the magic of the most powerful mystic in Gillengaria.
Melly was sighing as she curled up on her thin blanket, too warm on this summer night to want to cover herself with it. “ ‘Go work in the marlord’s house. You’ll lead a soft life,’ ” she muttered, clearly quoting someone’s advice. “ ‘You’ll dress in fine clothes and wait on the serramarra and never have to eat squirrel stew again.’ ”
“You picked the wrong serramarra to wait on if that’s what you wanted,” Kirra said cheerfully. “Or maybe you picked the right one. You just got unlucky on this particular trip. I’m sure this will never happen again if you stay with—with my sister.”
“And I will stay with her, even if it does,” Melly said with another sigh. “Goodnight, serra.”
“Goodnight.”
But Kirra found she could not get comfortable—and once she was comfortable, she could not fall asleep. Too many nights in plush beds in palatial homes ruined a woman for the simple pleasures of life on the road. She thought about her conversation with Romar. She thought about the expression on Valri’s face when Amalie proved susceptible to magic. She thought about the look of sheer contentment that Senneth wore when she had even five minutes to lean against Tayse and feel his arms secure about her. She thought about this upcoming visit to Nocklyn and what unpleasant experiences might unfold there since, so far, none of their stops on the social circuit had passed without incident.
She spent some time trying to picture Belinda Brendyn, so quiet and unassuming and efficient and dull—but kind and good and pleasant. No doubt in love with her restless and handsome husband. No doubt hoping that she would conceive his child one day soon, attach him to her with the unbreakable bond of shared parenthood, give him the one thing he could not manage on his own. Belinda’s devotion to domesticity—wife, mother, de facto head of household with her husband’s prolonged absences—made Kirra feel even more wild, more reckless. She wanted to change into a lioness, right here on the ground between Melly and Senneth. She wanted to transform herself into a white owl and go screeching into the dark. She wanted to melt into a mouse or a mole and go running into the night.