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Authors: Sharon Shinn

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BOOK: Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses)
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Kirra had grinned over at him. Even her face looked finer, as if she had let herself gain some coarseness and weariness while they rode and now cast off those unnecessary disguises. “From buckskin and dirty linen,” she said. “Do you like it? Would it make you want to confide in me?”
He had grinned back. “I don’t think fine clothes would move me as much as you’d like,” he replied. “But this Helven lord might be a different matter.”
Senneth’s transformation had been more subtle but, to Tayse, more shocking. She had stepped out from Kirra’s shadow, and he had just stared at her. Her fine white-blond hair had darkened to a muddy brown, and her alert gray eyes looked washed out and tired. Even her skin, so smooth for someone who had led such an adventurous life, looked matted and ill used. Worst of all was her expression: docile, bland, and distant. “I am sure marlord Martin will respond to serra Kirra just as he should,” she said in a repressive voice.
Kirra had burst out laughing, but Tayse had not been able to shake off his disbelief. “What did you do to her?” he demanded. “She doesn’t look anything like—I don’t know that I would recognize her.”
“I didn’t touch her. I told you she had enough shiftling magic in her to change her appearance.”
“Does it hurt?” he found himself asking.
Senneth didn’t even smile at him for the question, as he supposed serving maids never got a chance to smile. “Does what hurt? To make a transformation like this? No, but it’s a little tedious and requires more of my concentration than I’d like.”
“I mean—does it hurt to hold it all back? To swallow all the energy and intelligence that’s usually on your face?”
For a moment she looked truly surprised, so he must have said something he did not intend. “No,” she said again. “But I’m starting to think I must look even worse than I meant to.”
Tayse shook his head. “I’d have sworn on any Rider’s life that you had never been a servant, but right now I’d have to be rethinking that. You look the part completely.”
“You’re right,” she said dryly. “I’ve never been a maid, though I’ve played a lot of different roles in my life.”
“More roles than I can keep track of,” he said.
A small smile for that. “And you don’t know half of them.”
“That’s the trouble,” he said and turned away.
He knew a few of them, though, and he reviewed them as he followed her and Kirra into the city. She had the guildmarks of half a dozen professions tattooed on her left wrist, partially covered by the moonstone bracelet. She’d worked in the gold mines, spent a summer laboring on an inland farm, been a horse trader, a fisherwoman, a blade for hire. He was still not clear on how she had hooked up with Malcolm Danalustrous, though he had finally worked out that she was one of the tutors who’d been brought in to school Kirra when she was discovered to be a mystic. And perhaps it had been Malcolm Danalustrous who had introduced her to the king, but he was not certain of that either; it could so easily have been the king who brought her to Danalustrous.
Tayse loved his king, and he would die for the man, but he was far from sure royalty had made a wise decision in trusting so much to this footloose and unpredictable woman. Her only true allegiances seemed to be to herself and to her magic, and though he knew no ill of her, he also had seen nothing to make him believe in her.
Then again, he believed wholly in no one but the king and his fellow Riders, so perhaps that was not surprising.
They rode down the broad main avenue of Helvenhall, Tayse still mentally cataloging the sights around them. A handful of taverns, all of them doing a brisk business; a number of shops that catered to a wealthy clientele; few beggars on the street. A well-run and prosperous little town, this city in the middle of Helven.
Kirra headed without hesitation down the street as if she knew exactly where she was going, and in a few moments they had turned into the courtyard of a very fancy inn indeed. It was three stories high, built of quarried stone, and looked more like a private estate than any inn Tayse had ever stayed at. Ostlers ran out of the stables to catch the reins of their horses; footmen hurried through the double doors to take charge of their woefully small pile of luggage. A thin, obsequious man—the owner himself, unless Tayse missed his guess—came straight up to Kirra and handed her down from the saddle.
“How delightful to see you, serra Kirra!” he exclaimed. “I did not know you were traveling! How may I help you? How long will you be staying? Whatever you need, we’ll be happy to accommodate you—”
“Thank you,” Kirra said in a languid and supercilious tone. “I would like a suite for my girl and me. And an adjoining room for my men. Unusual, I know—I’m sure you have perfectly adequate rooms closer to the stables—but I feel much safer with my own guard within call. You understand. My father is so protective of my safety.”
“Yes, indeed, indeed, many of our clients prefer to have familiar swords nearby,” he said. “We have just the suite of rooms to suit you—I’m sure you’ll be happy there. Shall I have food brought up? Wine? Is there any other service I can do for you?”
“Indeed. If you would,” Kirra said, stepping through the door that he held open for her and not even looking to see if the others were still following. “Martin Helven—I have a message for him. I wonder if he is in town?”
“Ah, marlord Helven—I will have a boy run ’round with a note. I believe he is at his estate, but I will certainly have an answer for you before nightfall.”
“You’re too good.”
The proprietor led them up one set of stairs and down a wide, airy hall painted a gleaming white. Tayse counted doors and hallways so he could have a sense of how many people might be present to contend with if some mishap occurred; Justin, he could tell, was doing the same. Cammon looked around with barely restrained delight at the high ceilings and painted ornamentation. Tayse wanted to nudge him but didn’t want to draw any attention to the boy. Of all of them, Donnal seemed least impressed by their surroundings. But then, Tayse assumed, he had seen even greater magnificence at the Danalustrous estate—where, from what Tayse had been able to piece together, he had spent some time as Kirra’s playmate or fellow student in the mystic arts.
The women were ushered into a room of grand proportions and great heavy furniture; the men stood outside at strict attention. Tayse was close enough to the door to see Kirra glance around once. “Yes—very pretty,” she said, still in that bored voice. “We shall be here at least two nights. Please have supper for two sent up right away. Oh, and—something for the men to eat as well.”
The proprietor bowed himself out of the room. “Yes, serra Kirra. Right away.”
He did pause to unlock a door down the hall that led to a much smaller but still quite attractive room with three bunk beds pushed against the walls. Tayse’s eyes immediately sought the connecting door and placed where it must be situated in Kirra’s room. He slipped the innkeeper a silver coin, because it never hurt to stay on the good side of your host, and the man winked at him as he pocketed it.
“I’ll send up some ale with that dinner,” he said. “Good stuff, too. My son makes it.”
“That will be most welcome,” Tayse said gravely. He waited for the other three men to file in, then shut the door behind them.
Kirra was already knocking on the door between their rooms. “I can’t get this open!” she called. “Is it locked on your side?” Within moments, the two women had slipped through the door, and they had all disposed themselves on the furniture throughout the men’s chamber.
“But you’d better not let him catch you socializing with your personal guard, or you’re going to raise some eyebrows,” Tayse warned her. “The last thing we want to do is attract attention.”
Justin had climbed to one of the top bunks and was looking down at the rest of them with the air of a brooding vulture considering what to eat. “You certainly play the part to perfection,” he commented.
Senneth glanced up at him. “She’s not playing,” she said. “Born to it.”
Tayse asked, “So then is she playing when she acts our comrade on the road?”
Kirra gave him one bright, indignant look. “When I think how friendly I’ve been to you all this time, and how you’ve never been anything but hateful in return, it makes me want to spell you into a toad, it really does.”
Cammon’s dark eyes grew big. “Can you do that?”
“No,” Kirra said with a sigh. “I can change other
things
from one shape to another, but I can’t change people, except myself. It’s very limiting.”
Half-smiling, Tayse glanced up at Justin. “At any rate, she
says
she can’t,” he murmured.
Justin nodded. “I’m on my guard.”
“So what next?” Donnal asked. “Except dinner.”
“And a bath,” Senneth added.
“And a good night’s sleep on clean sheets,” Justin supplied.
Kirra shrugged. “I think we wait until we hear from Martin Helven. Until then, I suppose, we just relax.”
 
 
THE food was delicious; the bath, which the men took in the shed downstairs where common folk cleaned up, was hot and welcome. The relaxing came a little harder for men of action. Tayse and Justin played at card games, grudgingly allowing Senneth to join them—and then, when she asked, Kirra.
“You don’t know how to play,” Justin said.
“Well, at least I’ve got money,” she said. “If I lose, you’ll be all the richer.”
“Deal her in,” Tayse said.
Justin shuffled but didn’t look happy about it. “She’ll trick the cards,” he said. “Her and Senneth both.”
“I will not! I don’t care enough about a stupid card game to go to the trouble,” Kirra said.
Senneth gave Justin one long, measured look. Tayse couldn’t tell if she was truly irritated or not; her unshakable calm was one of the things he found most perplexing about her. The only time he had seen her rattled was when they found those dead mystics, and even then she had not broken down and cried as so many women would have. Kirra had, when she’d arrived a few minutes later. Not Senneth.
“I wonder why it is,” Senneth said now in a thoughtful voice, “that you always expect a mystic to be worse than your other comrades, instead of better.”
Justin tilted his chin with habitual defiance. “Why would I think you’re better?”
“Justin thinks every man has more potential for evil than good,” Tayse explained. “The more powerful you are, the more likely you are to turn bad. And mystics have a certain power. Hence—”
“You could murder me in the middle of the night while I was just peacefully sleeping,” Justin said.
Senneth shrugged and picked up the cards he’d dealt her. “What’s to stop you from doing the same to me?”
Justin scowled. “Honor! I’d never fight someone who wasn’t wide awake and facing me.”
“And why can’t mystics have the same sense of honor? Why wouldn’t we, too, scorn to attack a man who was helpless and unaware of danger?”
“Maybe you would,” Justin muttered, “but you haven’t proved it to me yet.”
Tayse couldn’t help grinning at the two women. Kirra was shaking her head, not even interested in arguing with someone so hopeless. Senneth merely looked thoughtful. “In fact,” Tayse said, “the only people Justin truly trusts are other Riders. And unless you attain that rank and status, I’m afraid he’s never going to view you with anything but suspicion.”
“Then I have my life’s goal before me,” Senneth said. “To become good enough to be a king’s Rider and win Justin’s heart.”
They all laughed, even Cammon and Donnal, lounging on their beds. Senneth laid down a card, and play resumed, and after that most of them lost interest in conversation. Kirra might have hexed the cards after all, for she won more than her share of hands, but Justin did almost as well, so he was appeased. Tayse did poorly, and Senneth won nothing.
“I hope my mistress pays me a living wage,” Senneth commented as Tayse announced he was done for the night. “Or I won’t be able to afford to play with you fellows anymore.”
Which reminded Tayse to look at her face again—which was her own face, lively and untroubled. “You dropped your disguise,” he said.
She nodded. “I’ll resume it again tomorrow when Martin Helven arrives, but it probably doesn’t matter. Now that everyone considers me a serving maid, they’ll see me as such, no matter what look I have on my face. But I may as well resume the veils tomorrow anyway—in case—” She shrugged.
“In case someone recognizes you,” he said.
She and Kirra both laughed at that. “Yes,” Senneth said, “for exactly that reason.”
 
 
THE morning passed slowly, as time without activity was wont to do. Tayse sent the other three men off to run errands: procure food, take the horses for shoeing, and generally see if they could pick up any useful information in the streets of Helven. He stayed in the suite, prepared to give consequence to Kirra whenever Martin Helven arrived.
Which he did around three in the afternoon. Tayse had taken up a post at the only window in his room that overlooked the street, so he saw the expensive coach pull up, a gold-and-green crest painted on the side. He knocked on the connecting door and announced, “He’s here, for those of you who need to put on your false faces,” and then stationed himself in the hallway outside Kirra’s room.
BOOK: Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses)
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