Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses) (9 page)
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Authors: Sharon Shinn
BOOK: Dark Moon Defender (Twelve Houses)
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Ellynor concentrated on her task again, holding the dye-soaked sponge to Rosurie’s hair. But she was thinking about this extreme form of healing. Ellynor herself was very good in a sickroom; only a few times in her life had she encountered a fever that she could not defeat. She rather liked the inventiveness that had caused a mystic to take such drastic action, simply to save a few lives.
She knew better than to say so, of course. Here in Lumanen Convent, no one would ever defend a mystic.
Ellynor and Astira were among the final group of diners, trying to eat as quickly as they could so they could leave the oppressive atmosphere, when there was a stir and a murmur from the girls closest to the door. Soon, in one graceful ripple, the whole crowd had come to its feet, and the Lestra walked down the aisle between the two center tables.
As always, Ellynor found herself both hoping she didn’t draw the Lestra’s attention and incapable of looking away. There was such a heavy, insistent glamour to the woman—her very body seemed to absorb whatever light was available, whatever air was in the room. While she was nearby, it was impossible to look anywhere else or think about anything except pleasing her.
The Lestra paced slowly between the tables, nodding coolly as each novice dipped her head in a submissive bow. She wore her usual black robes, heavily embroidered in silver. Her hair, long as a Lirren girl’s, fell in a loose braid of gray and black all the way to her knees. Her face was set, her dark eyes unreadable.
She stopped right in front of Astira and stared for a moment at the tall blond girl. Astira had lowered her head and did not look up as the Lestra studied her. Astira was a good five inches taller than the older woman, but she did not seem to have the advantage; there was something about the Lestra that was magnificent despite her short stature.
“You. You shall come with me tomorrow,” the Lestra said. “We shall leave at noon.”
“Yes, my lady. As it pleases the goddess.”
“Pick someone else to come with us as well. We shall be gone two days, possibly three. You ride a horse, don’t you?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Make sure your friend does also.”
That was it. The Lestra abruptly turned and retraced her steps, leaving as swiftly and deliberately as she had entered. Not until the door had closed behind her and there was no chance she was still near enough to hear did the room erupt into an excited chattering of awe and speculation. The Lestra had moved among them! Spoken to one of the novices!
“Where will you be going? What does she need you for?” Rosurie demanded.
Astira shook her head. “I don’t know! Not just to offer benedictions to travelers, because she would send us out with Shavell or one of the other dedicants. A two- or three-day trip! Surely we will be going to Neft, at least? I have not been outside of the convent for two months!”
“Neither have I,” several girls replied in wistful voices. The Lestra had said Astira should pick one of her friends to go on this journey with them, and it was clear everyone at the table was hoping she’d be the one Astira favored.
But the Merrenstow girl was already smiling at Ellynor. “You’ll come, won’t you? I know you can ride.”
Ellynor actually shivered with excitement. To be out of the convent for two days at least! Whether they went to Neft or merely camped out on the side of the road, the prospect of a change of scenery was giddily alluring. “I will. I do. Let’s go pack right now! I can’t wait till morning.”
CHAPTER 4
THEY set out the next day shortly after noon, a cavalcade of eight. In addition to the Lestra, the novices and four guards, their group included Darris, another one of the dedicants. Despite the violet robes, she was nothing like Shavell, being plump and short and altogether more kind. She was also one of the oldest Daughters at the convent, for she had to be more than sixty, Ellynor thought. She was the one all the novices turned to if they had a problem, and if they could find her. She was most often closeted with the Lestra or working in the infirmary or bustling about on convent business and hard to track down. Shavell, on the other hand, was always available, especially when you least wanted her.
They traveled in near silence except for the noise the horses made. Astira and Ellynor, of course, were too overwhelmed to speak, though they exchanged wide-eyed glances now and then. Two guards rode before the women, two behind, and made no conversation that Ellynor could overhear. Now and then Darris and the Lestra murmured together, but never for long. Ellynor imagined that, in years of living at the convent together, the two women had already discussed every topic that might come up.
At first they traveled through woodland, for the convent was located deep in the forest, but gradually they won their way to a main road cutting through more open terrain. The day was warm and a little humid, so Ellynor was a little sorry to leave the shade of the trees, but at least now she could gauge the position of the sun and guess their direction. She nearly clapped her hands together as she realized they were heading northwest.
Neft!
she mouthed to Astira, who smiled in delight.
Neft!
she mouthed to Astira, who smiled in delight.
Sure enough, by the time the sun began to set, they were pulling up on the outskirts of the city. Ellynor felt her head practically swivel on her neck as she tried to take in all the sights at once. There was no such thing as a city in the Lirrens—just the occasional clusters of
sebahta
families living in a more tight-knit community than others. Astira had said Neft was small by the standards of Ghosenhall, but Ellynor found it hard to imagine anything more grand than this place, with its crisscross of streets, its clutter of buildings, its press of people, its sounds, its smell, its energy.
sebahta
families living in a more tight-knit community than others. Astira had said Neft was small by the standards of Ghosenhall, but Ellynor found it hard to imagine anything more grand than this place, with its crisscross of streets, its clutter of buildings, its press of people, its sounds, its smell, its energy.
The guards did not pause as they crossed into the city proper, though they had to make their way more slowly through the crowded streets. Even Ellynor could tell that some parts of town were more respectable than others, for they moved past buildings that had a slovenly look, dirty and ill-kept, and into districts where the storefronts were neat, the window boxes weeded, the doors covered in fresh paint.
Eventually they climbed a rather steep hill and came to a halt. They were outside an elegant three-story building located on about an acre of land enclosed by a wrought-iron fence. One of the guards helped the Lestra from the saddle. The other women dismounted without assistance, then the guards gathered up the horses. “Come for us tomorrow around noon,” the Lestra directed. “We will know then if we want to leave or stay another day.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Darris pulled back the iron gate and the Lestra strode in, the others trailing behind her. The wide front door had already been opened, and servants were bowing low, some of them touching their fists to their right shoulders. The Lestra swept by them as if they were invisible. Feeling just as invisible themselves, Astira and Ellynor followed Darris inside, then craned their necks to take in the opulence of the furnishings. Lush carpets, gold statuettes, high ceilings, stained glass. Certainly richer than Ellynor was used to, either at the convent or back home.
They were quickly ushered into a large parlor that was littered with chairs and sofas and small tables. An elegant, middle-aged, dark-haired woman rose to meet them, holding her hands out to take the Lestra’s in a warm clasp.
“Coralinda! So good of you to come. You’re looking well.”
“Thank you, Jenetta. The goddess watches over me.”
“Are you tired? Are you hungry? Would you like to eat or rest awhile?”
“We can do that later. Take me to your mother first, since her situation is so grave.”
The woman swept a doubtful look over the rest of the entourage. “All of you?”
“Yes. We shall take the night watch in shifts, so they should all meet her now.”
“Follow me.”
Another parade through the lovely house, this time up a curving staircase whose walls were hung with formal portraits of rather grim men and women. Down a hall, past a few closed doors, and then into a chamber that was obviously a sickroom. There was the odor, for one thing, of bitter herbs and fevered flesh. There was the low light. There was the sticklike woman on the wide bed, a smothering of covers concealing everything except her head. Her nose was prominent and sharp, her hair loose and gray; everything else about her was vague and indeterminate. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was so shallow it did not disturb the blankets over her chest.
“We shall pray for her,” the Lestra announced. “And then we shall stay with her, one of us, from now until she dies.”
Their hostess flinched at the uncompromising word. “The doctor said it could be as early as tonight, but he did not think it would be more than another three days.”
The Lestra nodded. “We shall stay that long, if that is the case.”
She made a motion with her hand, and the Daughters arranged themselves around the bed. Darris and the Lestra stood on either side of the woman, near her head, the novices at her feet. Together they chanted the prayers that asked the Pale Mother’s mercy upon this woman, that begged the Silver Lady to gather this soul into her own bright radiance and add its light to hers.
Take her gently. Turn her sacrifice to glory. May her face shine beside yours from the wide circle of the moon
.
Take her gently. Turn her sacrifice to glory. May her face shine beside yours from the wide circle of the moon
.
Ellynor itched to come close enough to lay her fingers on the old woman’s forehead, to stroke her hands, now buried under the covers. Back in the Lirrens, everyone wanted Ellynor nearby if there was illness in the house. But she had to be able to touch her patients to gauge what was wrong and if she could help them. This old woman was so frail and so ancient that it might be merely age that was shutting her body down, in which case there was nothing Ellynor would be able to do. But if there was a disease, a fever, a rebellion in the blood— well, it was possible Ellynor would be able to make her well, or at least ease her transition from this life to the next.
But there was no chance to touch the old woman, even to lean forward and lay a hand across the covered feet. The Lestra concluded the prayers and turned to look at her hostess. “Very well,” she said. “Darris will stay with your mother for a few hours, then I will, and then my novices will take the night hours at her side. Feed us, let us get some rest, and we will do what we can.”
“So why are we here?” Ellynor wanted to know. “I didn’t think the Lestra went to private houses to perform sacred rituals—or sent her novices in to watch over the dying.”
Astira was sitting up in the bed they shared, her arms locked around her updrawn knees. The room was dark except for the light of a single candle set in the window. “Usually not,” she agreed. “But Jenetta Gisseltess is a cousin of the Lestra—and she married into money. She is constantly donatingfunds to the convent, so there is every reason for the Lestra to show her special attention.”
“She looks noble.”
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