Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses) (73 page)

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Authors: Sharon Shinn

BOOK: Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses)
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But when trouble came through the back door, it came in the shape of Marney. She had run so hard she could barely speak. Her eyes were wide with fright and they instantly searched for Justin.
 
 
“They’ve taken Ellynor,” she gasped out. “Three guards from the convent. The steward recognized her and sent for soldiers. She’s been gone since early this morning.”
 
 
NOT even aware that he was moving, Justin leapt for the door. But Tayse’s hand shot out and hauled him back. “Think. Plan. Don’t be stupid,” the big man said sharply.
 
 
Justin shook him off, but stayed in place, trembling so hard he could barely put a coherent thought together. The others deployed around Marney, purposeful and grim.
 
 
“Since early this morning—did you get a more exact time?” Tayse asked her.
 
 
Her eyes were wide and frightened, and the expression on Tayse’s face was not likely to reassure her. “No—the footman just said early.”
 
 
“We have to assume it could have been first light,” Tayse said. “So, possibly three hours.” He glanced at Justin. “She’s already nearly at the convent. We can’t catch up.”
 
 
“I have to go get her,” Justin said.
 
 
Tayse nodded. “We’ll come up with a plan.” He sounded so cool, so certain. “You’ve been inside the gates a couple of times. Can you sketch the layout?”
 
 
“Yes. But you’ve seen it yourself.”
 
 
“Not much more than the interior rooms. I can draw a map of the inside as best as I remember. But I don’t know where the barracks are or what anything looks like in the back of the convent.”
 
 
Kirra was frowning at Cammon. “Why didn’t you tell us something was wrong with her?”
 
 
Cammon shook his head regretfully. “I told her the other day. I can’t get a sense of her at all. I didn’t know she was in trouble.”
 
 
“The Black Mother’s magic,” Senneth said briefly. “Concealment.”
 
 
“Do you have reason to believe her life is in danger?” Tayse was asking.
 
 
“Yes,” Justin said without hesitation. “If they discover she’s a mystic—”
 
 
“But as far as you know, no one realized that before she left.”
 
 
“No, but—she’s been gone for a week—and she left without a word—”
 
 
“And they’ve sent guards to grab her and force her back,” Kirra added. “I think they suspect something.”
 
 
“We have to get there today,” Senneth said quietly.
 
 
They all looked at her, and Justin felt his terror ratchet up to all-out dread.
 
 
She added, “New moon tonight. It would be the ideal time to punish a mystic.”
 
 
“I can get there in half an hour,” Kirra said. “You follow— tell me a place to meet you on the road. I’ll come back and report.”
 
 
“That still doesn’t help us get inside,” Tayse said.
 
 
Kirra slapped her hands together. “Damnation! I wish Donnal hadn’t left! He and I could circle the convent, find a way inside, discover where she’s being held. One of us could stay with her and one of us could find the rest of you and make plans.”
 
 
“I can call him back,” Cammon offered. “He could be here in an hour or two.”
 
 
“We can’t wait that long,” Justin said.
 
 
Tayse glanced at him. “It might be our best solution. Kirra’s right—if we send two mystics into the convent, styled as birds or butterflies—”
 
 
“Birds,” Kirra said with a faint grin. “Faster and more direct.”
 
 
“Then that gives us several options. So if Cammon tells Donnal to meet us somewhere on the road to the convent—”
 
 
“Take me,” Justin said. Now they were all staring at him, but he had eyes only for Kirra. “Take me. Turn me into a bird. You’ve done it before.”
 
 
A short silence greeted this piece of news, which clearly came as a surprise to both Tayse and Senneth, and then Kirra put a gentle hand on Justin’s arm. “Yes, but don’t you remember? You were awkward and unsure of your wings. This is not the time to be trying to learn to fly.”
 
 
“And you’ve only recently been almost fatally wounded and still are not wholly recovered,” Tayse said.
 
 
Justin ignored him. He put his hand over Kirra’s; he let his face show everything he was feeling. “Take me,” he begged. “Please. I have to go to her. I can’t let her die.”
 
 
“I can’t let
you
die,” Tayse said. “Sending you into that place in an unaccustomed form would almost certainly mean your death. We can wait for Donnal.”
 
 
“He’s right, Justin,” came Senneth’s soft voice.
 
 
Justin didn’t even look at them. At this moment, the only one who mattered, the only one with an opinion he cared about, was Kirra. He was crushing her fingers under his. He was allowing the tears to gather in his eyes. He would grovel to her, if that was what was required. If only she would take him with her.
 
 
She stared back at him for a long moment, her laughing face utterly serious, her blue eyes dark with calculation. Her hand moved under his, answering his pressure with pressure of her own. He knew she was trying to gauge the limits of his physical strength. Of all times for the reckless Kirra to be cautious! He willed her to trust him, to take the mad chance. He willed her not to care if he died in this desperate adventure.
 
 
“All right,” she whispered.
 
 
The other three cried out at that, and even Cammon sounded alarmed. But there wasn’t much they could do to stop Kirra, Justin thought. She was binding her long hair up in a messy knot on the back of her head and glancing around the room as if checking for anything she’d forgotten.
 
 
Tayse grabbed Justin’s arm again. “This is folly,” he said in a rough voice. “I know you love her. I swear to you, we will work to get her back. But you can’t throw your life away like this.”
 
 
Justin merely stepped back far enough to force Tayse to drop his arm. “You’d do it,” he said. “If it was Senneth inside.”
 
 
“Where do you want to meet us?” Kirra asked practically.
 
 
“The plan is to travel toward the Lirrens eventually, right?” Senneth said in a subdued voice. “We’ll head for the other side of the convent. The eastern road that leads toward Coravann.”
 
 
“Show me.”
 
 
Marney—who had stood mute and miserable this whole time—hurried off to find a map, and they all huddled around it briefly until they’d agreed on the coordinates.
 
 
“See you there as soon as we can,” Kirra said. “Justin— outside. We don’t want bird droppings all over Marney’s house.”
 
 
“That’s it? You’re leaving?” Marney exclaimed. “Oh, good-bye to all of you! Be careful! Will you—will someone let me know what happens to Ellynor?”
 
 
Senneth and Cammon were the only ones who bothered to pause and formally thank her. Justin heard Tayse tell their hostess in a rather ominous voice, “We will try to send you word. But assume that Ellynor lives.” He didn’t predict Justin’s own fate, which he obviously expected to be much more dire.
 
 
Justin merely followed Kirra out the door.
 
 
CHAPTER 37
 
 
ELLYNOR was so cold.
 
 
It was close to noon on a gorgeously bright day, and sunshine danced in through the small window as if it could not contain its delight. There was a fire in the grate and a blanket around her shoulders, and Ellynor still shivered so hard that she could not lift a cup of water to her mouth without spilling it.
 
 
She knew that she would only be cold until sunset, at which point she would be lashed to a stake and burned to death. Even now, she could hear the faint sounds from the courtyard, wood being chopped, men’s voices calling as they considered the best way to ground a single wooden pillar in the soil.
 
 
Fire was the preferred way to kill a mystic. Though swords and stones and bare fists would do.
 
 
She had known, when she heard the raised voices in the hall, that someone had come for her. Convent guards. That they knew her secret. She had looked around wildly, but there was nowhere to hide in serra Paulina’s room that they would not instantly find her. She’d run for the window, tightly shut against the winter chill, and managed to push the glass-paned panels open wide enough to let the cold swoop in. A moment’s hesitation—how to make that long drop to the ground?—and that had cost her. Three men burst into the room, noisy and rough, and spotted her before she had time to draw her veils of darkness around her body. She had struggled and cried out against their hold, begging for help from the wide-eyed servants who crowded around the door, but no one had answered,no one had lifted a hand in her defense. The comatose woman lying on the bed did not stir, did not open an eye. If no one thought to close the window, the serramarra would freeze to death an hour before her heart gave out. Ellynor pleaded and wept as they dragged her down the stairs, through the courtyard, out the gate, and threw her into a waiting cart. Her throat and wrists and ankles were burning; it was only later that she realized the ropes they bound her with had been studded with moonstones.
 
 
A hellish ride through the countryside, through the murmuring forest, moving so quickly and bouncing so hard over ruts in the road that Ellynor’s whole body was bruised from transit. She had stopped sobbing—she was entirely numb— by the time the wagon pulled through the high gates of the convent. She did not speak, did not resist, as they yanked her out and forced her to walk across the great hall. It seemed as if every soul in the convent had gathered there to watch in shocked silence as she was hustled past them, the novices, the proselytes, the dedicants in their white and green and purple robes. They stared but they did not speak. Their horror was thick enough to breathe.
 
 
The guards had forced her up the stairs, their hands clutched so tight on her arms that they practically carried her, though her feet slipped and stumbled as she tried to catch herself on every other step. Not until she had been flung inside this small, bare room—not one she had ever seen before—did Ellynor realize that Shavell had followed them and was coolly supervising this final leg of the journey.
 
 
“That’s right—attach this chain to the ropes that bind her. We don’t want to run any risk that the mystic will use her sorcerous tricks to get free.”
 
 
Mystic
. So they knew. How had they discovered the truth? Ellynor had assumed that the Lestra would be furious to learn that she had run away and would exact some painful punishment if Ellynor ever returned, but she had not expected that this most dangerous secret would come to light.
 
 
“Shavell—please—what have I done?” Ellynor begged, as one of the guards padlocked a chain around the loop of rope that held her wrists together in front of her. That chore done, he gave her a hard shove, knocking her to the floor. The other two guards laughed, and all of them tramped out of the room.
 
 
Shavell remained behind, staring down at her, haughty and full of rage.
“Mystic,”
she repeated, almost hissing the word.
 
 
“But I’m not—why do you think—what would make you call me such a thing?” Ellynor cried.
 
 
“You have been denounced,” the dedicant declared. Her tall, thin body was shaking with righteousness; her bony face shone with malevolence.
 
 
“Who denounced me?” Ellynor demanded, manufacturing a tone of outrage. “Who said such a lie about me?”
 
 
“Your cousin Rosurie.”
 

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