Chapter 16
A FINE DESSERT FINISHED OFF THE MEAL, AND SOON THE travelers were all excusing themselves to seek their beds. First, of course, they all convened in the suite set aside for royalty to discuss what they’d learned since their arrival.
“You cannot possibly go to the house of this scheming vassal lord,” Senneth said the instant she’d shut the door behind them. As she’d expected, Justin and Donnal were already present, sitting before the fireplace, halfway through a game of cards.
“Why not?” Cammon asked.
Kirra chimed in as she perched on the bed. “Because kings just don’t go and visit small out-of-the-way estates, that’s why,” she said. “Those houses aren’t designed with security in mind, the way a marlord’s estate is, or a royal palace.”
“I’m not the king,” he said, settling in a chair near the bed.
Everyone ignored this. “It would be unsafe even if you believed the man to be friendly to the marlord and friendly to the crown!” Senneth said. “But a man who bears you ill will already—you cannot give him opportunities to assault you.”
“You can’t seriously think there’s a risk of that,” Cammon said.
“Liege, I agree with her,” Tayse spoke up. “It would be difficult, although not impossible, to defend you from physical assault in a structure not built for defense, but I would think there is the possibility that someone in the house would attempt to poison you. The risk may be small, but it is still unacceptable.”
“That’s just ridiculous,” Cammon said.
“One of us could be his royal taster,” Justin suggested, clearly not serious. He slapped a hand against his thigh and pointed at Donnal. “Change him back into a dog shape and pretend you’re feeding him scraps of meat just because he’s your favorite hound. If he dies, of course, you stop eating.”
“Why do you think anyone would want to poison me?” Cammon asked. “I think they’re more likely to want to poison Nate.”
Senneth gave a strangled laugh and dropped to the bed beside Kirra. “I’d save them the trouble and do it myself, except Sabina looks so happy with him,” she said. “But he truly is the most annoying man.”
“I know you don’t like him, but I walked the defenses for a couple hours tonight, and the House is in excellent shape,” Justin said. “The guard is small, but well-ordered, and none of the soldiers had anything but praise for your brother.”
“The Thirteenth House sounds like it might be in a revolt, though,” Tayse observed. He directed his question at Kirra. “How much of that is to be expected, and how much can be attributed to the fact that he is in some sense acting as regent and has no authority that will last past Warren’s twenty-first birthday?”
“A little of both, I would think,” Kirra said. “To some extent, his hands are tied, and the lesser lords know that. They will be trying what they can now to amass power. But the same thing goes on in Danalustrous and Rappengrass and any of the Houses. It is just a matter of degree.”
“He was lying about something, though,” Cammon said. “I think there is more thievery on the roads than he wants to admit. I think he’s worried about it, too.”
“I’m sure that’s an important matter, but it’s not the issue at hand right now,” Senneth said. “You cannot go to a dinner at this vassal’s house. Blame me if you like, but tell Sabina in the morning that you’ve changed your mind.”
Cammon looked surprised. “But we just settled that! Donnal will go as my taster. And if he looks like he’s been poisoned,” he added, “Kirra will just have to use her healing magic to save his life.”
“Meanwhile, the servants are all tripping over Riders every time they enter or leave the room, because we’ll be nine deep around the table glaring at everyone in turn,” Justin added with a grin.
“Liege, I agree with Senneth,” Tayse said in his serious way. “Such an outing poses many risks.”
“But Nate said Seton Mayman has become his ally in the council, and it seems like Nate needs allies,” Cammon said stubbornly. “We don’t want to give Gisseltess the power to raise more troops. But shouldn’t we do what we can to make the House internally strong? By simple political measures with no cost attached?”
There was a short silence. Kirra rolled over onto her stomach, which put her face close to Senneth’s. “When did Cammon start talking like a strategist?” she said. “I find it very peculiar. Is it possible that I’m just dreaming this conversation? Though I have to say, my dreams are usually much more interesting than this.”
Senneth sighed and fell back on the bed so she was staring up at the gathered folds of the canopy. “So if we decide it’s worthwhile to send him to this vassal’s house, how do we make sure he survives the visit?”
“Do you really think there’s a risk of poison?” Justin asked.
“Small,” Senneth answered, still on her back. “But possible.” She turned her head to look at Kirra, who was much more conversant with the rules of society than Senneth was. “Do we insult the lord if we bring in a taster? We cannot let him go shaped as a dog, of course. But as Donnal?”
Kirra tapped her mouth. “I think it will be acceptable if we’re apologetic but firm. ‘We feel we must go to extreme measures to safeguard the health of the royal consort. If we observe this course at every small estate, no one is singled out, and yet he is protected.’ Something like that.”
“Yet a taster really cannot guarantee anyone’s safety,” Tayse said. “If the venom is designed to act slowly, both Donnal and Cammon could seem perfectly healthy through the whole meal, only to succumb some hours later.”
Kirra was practically bouncing on the bed. “I know! I will be the taster. But as I handle every dish, I’ll change its composition, so there is no chance of any poison making its way into Cammon’s mouth.”
“Now that’s an interesting idea,” Senneth said.
“That’ll be the blandest meal Cammon’s ever eaten,” Justin said. “What will you change his food to? Since you can’t actually cook a decent meal.”
“Just because I wouldn’t mind if you starved to death doesn’t mean I can’t prepare a meal if I have to,” Kirra returned.
“Won’t this vassal lord be expecting to see Kirra as well?” Tayse asked.
Kirra’s face was alight with deviltry. “Donnal can go as me,” she said. “You’ve seen how well he can counterfeit my shape.”
To prove it, Donnal underwent one of his amazingly fast transformations, and it suddenly looked for all the world as if Kirra was sitting at the hearth holding an assortment of cards. “I can copy her voice as well, though I don’t think I would know what to say,” Donnal said, sounding exactly like Kirra.
“Just talk nonsense,” Justin advised. “No one will be able to tell the difference.”
Kirra snatched up one of the pillows from the bed and threw it at him. Grinning broadly, he batted it aside to keep it from going into the fire.
“I suppose it could work,” Senneth said slowly. “Tayse, what do you think?”
“It will serve,” Tayse said.
“Good,” Cammon said. “Now let’s play cards.”
How could you resist a ruler who was so wise one moment, so boyish the next? Senneth joined him at the table, ruffling his hair as she sat beside him, and the others all regrouped around them. Tayse dealt, while Senneth and Kirra filled Donnal and Justin in on the conversation over dinner.
“Not that I blame those boys for hating Nate, but that’s a situation that won’t get better anytime soon,” Senneth said, describing Warren’s exit.
“Has Nate given any thought to what will happen once Warren becomes marlord?” Kirra asked. “I’d think he’d find it uncomfortable to live here, unless relations dramatically improve.”
“Is it certain Warren will be marlord?” Cammon asked. They all looked at him. “What?” he said. “Sometimes it’s not the oldest child who’s the heir.”
“As we all know,” Kirra said dryly. Her own younger sister would inherit Danalustrous from their father.
“Would the younger boy be a better choice?” Senneth asked. “Could you tell enough about their personalities to judge that?”
Cammon was rearranging his cards. “Actually, if you want the truth, I preferred Warren. There’s a slyness to his brother. He’s devious. Warren at least is honest.”
“It might be worth giving Nate that piece of advice. Nurture the older boy, and be wary of the younger,” Kirra said.
“Certainly. You tell Nate that,” Senneth said. “He’s always so willing to listen to someone else’s opinion.”
Justin tossed down three cards and took the hand, as everyone else groaned. “The oldest boy was hanging around the soldiers this afternoon,” Justin said. “Looked like he would have liked to join the workouts but didn’t quite have the nerve. If he shows up tomorrow, I’ll offer to teach him some Rider tricks.”
“Oh, that answers perfectly!” Kirra said. “Because you’re just the man to give anyone else’s self-confidence a boost. And, of course, it’s an excellent idea to help a young malcontent learn fighting techniques that no one will be able to fend off.”
Even Tayse was laughing. Justin grinned, unrepentant. “I think I know something about violent young men who need a little direction,” he said.
“I’m so glad,” Kirra said, “since you know nothing else.”
Senneth laid down her cards and yawned widely. “Enough pleasantries for the day, I think,” she said. “I’m off to bed. I’ll see you all in the morning.”
SENNETH slept late, even though Tayse was stirring and out the door by dawn. When she finally went down to breakfast, she found Sabina alone at the table, working on correspondence.
“Nate has taken Cammon on a ride around the grounds, trailed by a half dozen Riders,” Sabina said. “Is Justin with your party? I didn’t see him this morning.”
It took Senneth a moment to remember why Sabina would know to ask for Justin by name, but of course, they had shared an adventure about six months before the war. Sabina had grown convinced that Halchon meant to kill her and slipped away from him one winter afternoon. It was only by the sheerest good fortune that she had happened upon Justin, who had sheltered her until he could turn her over to Senneth. Who had ultimately turned Sabina over to Nate. Senneth still found the workings of the human heart to be entirely mysterious.
“He is with us, and I’m sure he would be delighted if you sought him out,” Senneth replied. “Justin’s married now, too—to a Lirren girl—and has a baby daughter. Still as fierce as he ever was, though.”
“He saved my life,” Sabina said.
“Yes,” Senneth said. “I was never so proud of him.”
They were silent while a servant brought food and hot tea for Senneth, but as soon as the girl left, Sabina gestured to a letter open on the table. “Seton Mayman sent a note this morning,” she said. “Asking again that we all come to dinner at his house in a few days. May I tell him we will?”
“Making it clear that there will be nine Riders in our party, in the room with Cammon at all times. Oh, and a man to taste Cammon’s food.”
“A taster?” Sabina said uncertainly. “Did he have one last night?”
“No, but you might not tell Seton Mayman that. As long as he agrees to the rings of protection that we consider essential, we will be happy to accompany Cammon to his house.”
“I’m sure he will,” Sabina said, giving the smile that made her look so pretty. “I will write instantly and let him know we have accepted.”
AFTER the late breakfast, Senneth let Sabina get back to her household duties while she wandered the grounds. The day was sunny and considerably warmer than it would have been farther north in Ghosenhall, and she enjoyed the stroll through the unpretentious and well-maintained acres. At the back of the property, she came across a small practice yard where about a dozen men in Gisseltess colors were working out. Most of them weren’t paying much attention to their opponents because they kept sneaking looks to watch two Riders in combat.
Senneth settled against the fence to take in the sight. It was Justin pitted against Janni, a mismatch in the general sense. These days only Tayse could reliably defeat Justin; and even so, Justin bested the older Rider every third or fourth outing. At a year or so shy of thirty, Justin was in superb physical condition, burly enough to put real power into his swings but lithe enough to move with astonishing quickness. Tayse was bigger, older, sometimes a step slower, but so experienced that his guile usually made up for any loss of prowess.
Janni, a sunny-tempered woman with curly dark hair and a blinding smile, obviously didn’t have Justin’s strength, but she was faster and completely fearless. She attacked him with lightning strokes and danced back out of reach, making him work hard to counter her agility with his brute power. Still, it was no real surprise when Justin eventually battered her down with a series of ringing blows. They were using practice blades, but Senneth, who was a decent swordswoman herself, knew that Janni would come out of this encounter covered with bruises.
“Dead,” Justin announced, pulling back his sword and helping Janni to her feet. “But not without crippling me severely. Good job.”
Janni was panting but cheerful. “I think you’ve got a gut wound that’ll lay you up for a month. Maybe it’ll get infected and you’ll die.”
“I have mystic friends,” Justin retorted. “They’ll heal me.”
One of the Gisseltess soldiers stopped making any pretense of fighting his own battle and came a few steps closer to the Riders. That’s when Senneth realized it was Warren. “How’d you learn to fight like that?” the boy asked. His face was alight with excitement, making him almost unrecognizable from the sullen serramar of the night before.
Justin pulled a dagger, flipped it, caught it, and sheathed it again. He didn’t usually indulge in showy tricks, so Senneth assumed he was making a point about basic coordination. “Practiced every day, all day, till my hands were bleeding and I couldn’t feel my feet,” Justin said. “Never bothered doing anything else.”
“I’ve never seen anybody that good,” Warren said.
Justin looked him over deliberately, assessing height, reach, muscle tone. “You’ve got the right build,” he said. “You could probably do some damage if you were properly taught.”
Warren’s sudden eagerness propelled him a step closer. “Would you teach me? Now? Show me how a Rider fights?”
Justin didn’t even glance back at Senneth, though he had to know she was there. Justin always knew who was within a fifty-foot radius of him. “Why not?” he drawled. “I’ve got a little time. But you can’t moan if you get hurt. This is a hard business, and you have to be hard yourself.”
“I will be. I am,” Warren promised. He was rebuckling his protective vest and hefting his practice sword.
“Weapons up,” Justin said, and lunged for him.
Senneth only stayed for another twenty minutes to watch the demonstration, but it was clear Justin knew exactly what he was doing. He never let Warren land a blow or indulge any thought of besting the Rider, but he slowly and methodically demonstrated some of his own most lethal moves, then walked the boy through them over and over. Warren was all rapt attention and boundless effort, and he watched Justin as if one of the gods themselves had dropped down to give him a fencing lesson. “Good,” Senneth heard Justin say as she walked away. “You’ve almost got it. More power in the swing. No, balance your weight on your left foot . . .”
Justin a hero to Halchon Gisseltess’s son. Surely, the world was so strange Senneth would never be able to comprehend it.
DINNER that evening was disagreeably formal. To please Nate and honor her royal charge, Senneth had worn a dress ever since she arrived in Gissel Plain, eschewing her usual trousers and plain attire. Tonight, of course, she must not just wear a dress; she must wear a gown and style her hair and try to look every inch the serramarra. She choose a dress of Brassenthwaite blue in striking lines, accenting it with the gold necklace Tayse had given her as a wedding gift. It lay just so it covered the Brassenthwaite housemark burned into her skin.
She used to wear a moonstone bracelet as well, but she had given that up when she almost lost her magic. Moonstones leached power away from a mystic, and these days Senneth didn’t feel she had any to spare.
She collected Kirra and they headed down to dinner. Tonight, of course, Tayse had not been invited to join them and Sabina had taken great care with the table arrangements. The two serlords were seated closest to Cammon, and a bejeweled array of other vassal lords and ladies spread from his central presence like an army outfitted from a treasure house.
Senneth was seated among the lesser lords, and she spent most of the meal making laborious conversation with the man on her right. During lulls in conversation, she tried to listen to the rest of the talk around the table. The men sitting on either side of Kirra appeared to be having a much more lighthearted time of it, while those clustered close to Cammon wore looks of polite bafflement. She wasn’t surprised so many people didn’t know what to make of the royal consort.
Cammon himself appeared entirely at ease, asking his usual artless questions and listening with his usual close attention. Every once in a while, Senneth saw him tilt his head sideways and a little back. Bright Mother burn me, she thought. Amalie’s in the room with us and Cammon’s listening to her.
The lords who were puzzled by Cammon now would be even more stunned to think he was choosing his conversational subjects on the advice of disembodied voices. Despite herself, Senneth felt an unregenerate amusement. She caught Kirra’s eye and directed her attention to Cammon. Kirra broke into a delightful laugh and then turned to make some airy comment to her dinner partner. But she, too, kept half of her attention on the royal consort.
So both of them were listening when Cammon leaned forward to address the serlord sitting across the table from him. “What do you think explains the higher incidence of banditry along the roads?”
The serlord sat up, affronted and taken by surprise, and all around them the other conversations gradually stuttered to a halt. “I’m sure I have no idea what you refer to.”
“Outlaws. Brigands,” Cammon expanded. “The roads around Gissel Plain are safe enough, but too far out in the country, and a small party is open to attack. Was this the case when Halchon Gisseltess sat in the House?”
That drew a glare from Nate to add to the scowls of the serlords and vassals. Cammon ignored them all and just sat there waiting, wearing a look of courteous inquiry.
“There have been incidents,” the serlord said stiffly. He was large and round in contour, but his eyes were narrow and sharp; intelligence shaped his whole face. “We assume that many of the raiders are soldiers who came back from the war too bitter or too broken to return to their old lives.”
Cammon seemed to listen for a beat, and then he said, “Have there been any policies in place to try to help such men rebuild? In Merrenstow, for instance, the marlord has set aside gold for former soldiers to borrow at a low rate of return, to help them put their farms back in order or to hire help if they have been too wounded to work.”
“In Merrenstow, the region has not been beggared by the costs of an ill-conceived war,” the serlord snapped.
Cammon steadily returned his gaze. “Most of the war was fought in the northeastern part of the country,” he said. “Property damage was considerable. And the northern Houses paid a lot for this war, too, you know—and it wasn’t their idea, either.”
The serlord lowered his eyes. “I beg pardon,” he said. “I know the entire country suffered.”
The second serlord leaned forward over the table. He was thin and intense, with a pinched, scowling face. “What’s needed is not charity but force,” he said. “Gisseltess is hamstrung by limitations on its fighting strength. Even a marlord may not have more than fifty guards at his disposal! Give us leave to raise troops and you will see our roads become safe again.”
Cammon sipped from his wine as if thinking this over, but Senneth was certain he was listening to Amalie again. “You could pool your resources,” he suggested finally. “If the marlord can raise fifty men, and each serlord can raise thirty-five, and every vassal lord has his own small guard of fifteen or twenty, you could all contribute one or two soldiers to the common cause.” He drank a little more wine. “And the crown would be willing to send troops as well to boost your numbers. You should be able to patrol the roads effectively with such a force.”
There was a small silence. “A generous offer indeed,” Nate said. His voice was very formal; Senneth couldn’t tell if he was angry or pleased. No marlord wanted interference from the royal court—but no marlord wanted to risk losing all his trade because of unsafe travel through his lands.
The small scrappy serlord was plainer. “Gisseltess can solve its own problems without pressure from Ghosenhall,” he said.
“If it can, then why hasn’t it?” Cammon replied in a quiet voice.
This brought another silence, this one even longer and crackling with anger. Cammon looked around the table, seeming to give each individual a thorough inspection in one brief glance. “Look at all of you,” he said. “You are full of jealousy and spite—toward your neighbors, toward your House, toward your queen. You are each fighting for the prestige of your own small properties, but you don’t seem to understand that none of you will prosper if you don’t all work together. Gisseltess will never heal itself if you continue this way. I know you don’t like Nate Brassenthwaite leading the House, but I can sense from none of you a willingness to change when a true Gisseltess man is back in charge. By the time Warren is twenty-one, you will all have become so steeped in hatred that you won’t be able to support him, either, and Gisseltess will never again be the proud, strong House it used to be—at least, not while any of you are still alive.”
It was a remarkable speech, all the more so because it was delivered in Cammon’s usual pleasant voice, and he displayed no scorn, no wrath, no malice. Just implacable honesty with no room for subterfuge. Everyone was staring at him; the table was so still there wasn’t even the sound of rustling clothing or silverware striking against china.
“Hold a council. Figure out what each of you can do, and what kind of assistance you would like from the crown,” Cammon continued. “Amalie and I would be glad to see this resolved.”
Nate drew a long breath. “Thank you, liege,” he said, and again his voice was unreadable. But Senneth rather thought he was impressed. “We will confer, and we will send a delegate to Ghosenhall.”
Sabina was the next to speak, her light voice just very slightly quavering. “I hope you’re all still hungry,” she said. “The cook has made what looks to be a most delicious confection to end the meal.”
SO that was a lesson in the sort of political acumen that Cammon and Amalie possessed between them, and made the dinner one that would be talked of for at least a decade, Senneth thought. She was hopeful that the meal at Seton Mayman’s house a few days later would be less momentous, but in its way it was even more eventful. Though the entire tenor of the two meals was different. Dinner at Gissel Plain was tense; dinner at the Mayman house was farcical.
First, of course, there was simply the cast of characters: Cammon, relaxed and cheerful as always; Senneth, disgruntled at having to don a fancy dress for a second night; Kirra, in the form of a slim, silent, watchful young man dressed in royal black and gold; Donnal, shaped like Kirra and wearing a resplendent gown; and all nine of the Riders. Accompanying them were Nate, who spent the entire length of the journey giving them Seton Mayman’s personal history, and Sabina, who fussed over Donnal. Donnal was pretending to nurse a cold so that he would not have to do much talking as Kirra. The six guests of honor rode in a single cramped carriage, so there was no way to avoid any of the personality quirks. Nate and Sabina carried most of the conversation, helped by Cammon. Senneth was too annoyed to speak, and of course the “taster” was expected to be largely invisible. Every once in a while, Donnal would offer a consumptive cough and then pat his throat with a dainty hand.
“I’m so sorry,” he would whisper, batting those big blue eyes. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come.”
Sabina would pat his arm and say, “No, no, I’m sure no one minds as long as you aren’t too uncomfortable.”
Once they arrived at the estate—a rather pretty place of white stone and black trim—the pomp was excessive. At least twenty footmen lined the hall leading to the dining room, but they had to press back to make room for the Riders, who paced around Cammon, solemn as funeral mourners. There was a general jostle in the dining room itself as the Riders stationed themselves at strategic points along the walls, and the servants and the other guests tried to make their way around them. Their host and his wife wore clothing that wouldn’t have been out of place for an audience at Ghosenhall, and their nineteen or twenty guests were in similarly opulent attire.
When the whole group was finally settled around the table, there was one empty chair. Seton explained that this belonged to a young lord named Chelten, who would be arriving later. “He is most eager to renew his acquaintance with serra Kirra, of whom he has the warmest memories,” Seton said, smiling at Donnal.
Donnal covered his mouth with a handkerchief for a discreet cough, managing to give Kirra a quick look and receive her slight nod in return. “Oh, it’s good to be remembered so fondly,” he said with a light laugh. “Not everyone finds me charming.”
“Nonsense,” Seton said. “I imagine you win hearts everywhere you go.”
The first course was served, then successive courses, each one an amazing challenge in logistics. Kirra was perched on a stool right up against Cammon’s chair, although everyone in the room pretended she wasn’t there. So the servants presented each dish to Cammon with an elegant flourish. He would hand the item to Kirra, and she would work her invisible alchemy on it while managing to get the occasional forkful to her mouth. The plate with its altered contents would be handed back to Cammon, who would have to take his first bite before anyone else dared to eat.
“Delicious,” he would say, or, “Oh, I like this very much.” Senneth could tell by his polite tone that most of it was perfectly tasteless, and nothing like the feast the rest of them were enjoying.
The conversation was equally insipid, centering on weather and travel and a few morsels of mild scandal. Topics such as business and trade crept in among the men, and the women talked fashion. Senneth’s dinner partners were planning a trip to Ghosenhall; could she recommend inns along the way? All very civilized, and she started to relax.
The hostess had a moment of mortification when the fireplace began to smoke late in the third course. “When the wind blows from the south, the chimney simply doesn’t draw,” she explained, fanning the air as if to dissipate the smoke with her hands. “I was so hoping for an absolutely calm day!”
“The chimneys at Brassen Court don’t like a northern wind,” Nate said. “I feel quite at home.”
It was too chilly to douse the fire entirely. Besides, the dining hall at the Mayman house was an interior room, and the only illumination came from the fireplace, the wall sconces, and the candelabra liberally spaced along the table.
“I’m sure there are odd little quirks at Danan Hall, aren’t there, Kirra?” Cammon asked, looking straight at his taster.
“Plenty of them,” Donnal replied, raising his voice slightly, but keeping Kirra’s lilting tone. “But my father is immune to inconvenience, so he never lets them bother him. And Casserah is much the same.”
Cammon started, blushed, and struggled not to laugh. “I’ve never found too much wrong with Ghosenhall, though,” he said a little breathlessly.
Senneth was not particularly good at social discourse, but someone had to redirect the conversation. “This is a very nice property, Lord Seton,” she said. “How long has it been in your family?”
So they were rescued by genealogy, and then the servants came through with the final course. It looked to be some kind of cobbler, bubbling with fruit and sugar. Kirra had just tasted it and handed it back to Cammon when there was a sound in the hall and the door burst open.
Instantly, three Riders were gathered around Cammon and two had leapt for the door to block the intruder.
“Whoa!” the newcomer exclaimed, finding his way barred by a pair of crossed swords. He flung his hands in the air to indicate submission. “Seton, call off your men! I’m perfectly harmless.”
Seton was on his feet. “My apologies, Chelten. You see that Queen’s Riders have come here to defend the consort, and your abrupt entry must have startled them.”
Tayse and Hammond dropped their weapons, gave brief nods to the young lord, and resumed their places against the wall, while the other three Riders also moved back into position. For another moment, Chelten stood where he had halted, elaborately adjusting the sleeves of his jacket, but appearing good-humored about the incident.
“I shall know what to expect if I ever go visiting royalty at Ghosenhall!” he said. “I will creep around the castle most carefully so I don’t excite any alarm.”
“Actually, that’s likely to make everyone even more suspicious,” Cammon said. “But it’s not a good idea to jump through doors, either.”
Chelten turned his eyes toward Cammon, obviously identified him as the royal personage, and sank to his knees right there on the threshold. “I beg pardon for disrupting your meal and thank you most sincerely for offering me this chance to meet you,” he said. “I apologize also for arriving late, but I’m afraid that couldn’t be helped.”
“Well, we’re glad you’re here now,” Cammon said.
“Yes, do sit down,” Seton said. “You’re in time for cobbler.”
Chelten was on his feet again and scanning the table. “I’ve eaten, thank you, but I wanted to see—yes! Kirra! You are here! Let me give you a kiss!”
He dove headlong across the room with his arms outstretched. Donnal leapt to his feet, his skirts swirling around him, and Kirra loosed a squeak of horror. Oh, this was so funny Senneth almost let the situation unfold, but she wasn’t sure Donnal would be able to stay in character if he were mauled affectionately by a lord. So she sucked in a hard breath and clenched her fists, and every flame in the room went out.
In total darkness, there were sudden cries of bewilderment, the stamping sounds of heavy bodies in motion, the flit and rustle of clothing as guests shifted position. “Bring us a candle!” Seton was shouting, and in less than a minute, servants were hurrying back into the room with lit tapers. The fresh light revealed all of the Riders converging around Cammon, who was perfectly unharmed, while Chelten had again frozen in mid-stride. Kirra was still on her feet, but looking much more serene—because now she really was Kirra, while Donnal had taken her place as taster at Cammon’s side.
“What kind of madness has taken possession of your house, Seton?” Chelten demanded.
“It’s the southern wind,” the hostess said with a little moan. “It just blew out all the fires.”
Kirra laughed and flung her hands out. “Don’t be stopped by a few theatrics, Chelten,” she said, her ailment all of a sudden forgotten. “Come give me a kiss, after all.”
NATE and Sabina were in the coach on the way home, so naturally the rest of them couldn’t discuss the hilarity of the dinner then; and once they pulled up at Gissel Plain, Kirra and Donnal melted away before Senneth had even disembarked. The Riders had already dispersed, and Nate drew Cammon aside, so Senneth was left to go upstairs all by herself, still trying to smother her grin.
When Tayse returned to their room a couple hours later, he locked the door, turned to her, and held out his arms. She collapsed against him, and felt him convulsed with silent laughter. She giggled, then she laughed, and then she was almost howling, clinging to his shoulders because she absolutely could not stand. They fell to the bed, still entwined, still helpless with laughter, and quite unable to speak.
