CHAPTER 24

IN the morning, the house was filled with all the bustle of a grand event, so Senneth and Tayse didn’t look for much interaction with Kirra. Tayse rose and left the room while she was still half asleep; she was certain he had gone to work out with some of Malcolm’s house guards. But he returned in plenty of time to bathe and change into his Rider regalia-a formal uniform of black and gold, topped by a sash embroidered with the king’s gold lions.

“You look very handsome,” Senneth said. She was wearing a long-sleeved dress of deep blue, embroidered at the cuffs and hem and bodice with a complex border of gold. The necklace Tayse had given her hung just above the neckline, perfectly covering her Brassenthwaite housemark. She had made some effort with her hair, threading blue and gold ribbons through it, and touched up her pale cheeks with a hint of rouge.

“And you, serra. Extremely beautiful.”

“I will be glad when this is over and we can be on our way.”

He grinned, and bowed her out of the room.

The wedding guests were beginning to assemble in a large, formal hall on the first floor. Columns, archways, and topiary had been decorated with intertwined ribbons of Brassenthwaite blue and Danalustrous red, and someone had coaxed red chrysanthemums and blue delphinium to bloom out of season, for vases of the cut flowers were scattered throughout the room. Kiernan and Harris were standing in a group of Brassenthwaite men, holding what looked like a serious conversation. Senneth nodded their way but did not bother to join them. A harpist and a flautist sat in a corner, offering light music; servants circulated with trays of drinks. Sunlight streamed in through the eight huge windows that lined the east side of the room.

“A pretty day to be married,” Tayse observed.

“And then a pretty day to travel,” she replied. He laughed at her silently.

Finally, finally, all the guests had gathered. A small red bird with a black tail swooped in through the high doorway, circled the room once, and landed on one of the beribboned plants. Senneth supposed it was Donnal. He rarely attended even informal dinners at Danan Hall, for he was peasant-born and not comfortable in the company of nobles, but clearly this was an occasion he wanted to observe. She waved and he dipped his head in acknowledgment.

He was the last to arrive. Now the music changed, sending a cue to the bridal party. Malcolm entered with Kirra on one arm and his wife, Jannis, on the other, and strode to the front of the hall where a magistrate stood waiting. Casserah and Will were only a few steps behind. She wore deep red; her dark hair was unbound down her back. Will wore blue with touches of scarlet. He had attached a red blossom to his jacket with a ruby stickpin. Kiernan and Chelley and Harris went to stand beside Will while Malcolm, Jannis, and Kirra arranged themselves around Casserah.

The magistrate raised his hand to quiet the last mutterings of the crowd. He was tall and big-boned, with a shock of white hair and a lined, handsome face. Senneth judged that he had observed pretty much everything the world had to offer. “Those who have chosen to marry step forward. Tell me your names and your stations,” he intoned.

Senneth took a quick sip of breath and glanced up at Tayse. In almost the same words, a magistrate had married them last fall. He smiled down at her and put his hand on the small of her back.

“I am Casserah Danalustrous, serramarra,” the bride said, speaking with utmost confidence. “Daughter of Malcolm and Jannis Danalustrous and heir to all their property.”

“I am Will Brassenthwaite, serramar…”

It was clear that this ceremony was going to take a little longer than the one that had united Tayse and Senneth, so she let her mind wander a bit. Therefore, she was not paying attention when Tayse nudged her and nodded toward the front of the hall. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask what was wrong.

She focused on the wedding party. The cleric was speaking, but Casserah was not attending. She had turned to look at her father and he was staring back at her. After a moment, he nodded, and Casserah faced the magistrate again. Senneth saw her hands ball up at her sides.

Standing next to her sister, Kirra carefully turned her head, searching the crowd for Senneth; her eyes asked a question. Senneth lifted her hands in a gesture that signified ignorance. But the black-tailed songbird had taken wing. He fluttered out the archway and disappeared.

“Something’s happening,” Senneth breathed to Tayse.

He nodded and put his hand surreptitiously to his sword. Most of the men present had buckled on dress swords, if they bothered with weapons at all, but Tayse, as always, was armed as if he might have to go into combat at any moment.

No one else seemed to realize there might be trouble. Even Kiernan looked stolid and just a little bored, his arms crossed on his broad chest, his eyes fixed on his brother while his mind probably was busy calculating tax rates or land yields. The cleric, who was now deep in some kind of homily, continued speaking in a deep and solemn voice.

It was less than ten minutes before Donnal returned, arrowing in through the doorway and straight to Kirra. He landed on her shoulder, which caused one or two people in the audience to murmur and laugh, but Senneth knew he did not have Cammon’s ability to put his thoughts directly into someone’s head. As unobtrusively as possible, Kirra stepped away from the bridal party, the bird still on her shoulder, and ducked into a doorway leading to a servant’s hall.

This Kiernan noticed. He unfolded his arms and gave Malcolm an inquiring look. And when, a minute later, Kirra hurried back in and headed straight for her father, Kiernan took five long steps over to join her. They stood there briefly, conferring, while the crowd began to mutter and the magistrate’s sonorous voice stuttered to a halt.

“Marlord, is there a problem?” the cleric asked.

Malcolm spoke up calmly. “Finish the ceremony.”

“What’s wrong?” Will asked Casserah.

Malcolm’s voice was a little louder. “Finish the ceremony. Bind them in marriage. Perhaps finish it more quickly than you planned.”

Will appealed to Kiernan, who was still standing beside Malcolm. “What’s wrong?”

At that moment, Senneth heard the thrumming sound of hundreds of booted feet, as if all of Malcolm’s house guards had suddenly been called to formation. They must be outside and some distance away, but there were enough of them that the noise carried. Even farther away there was the silver call of a bugle and a man’s voice raised in what was clearly an order to march out.

“Danan Hall is under siege,” Malcolm said coolly. “Finalize the wedding. Let them speak their vows.”

Now the crowd was alive with agitation, and a few people fled for the door. But Kiernan and Malcolm stood fast, both of them watching the cleric, and Casserah took Will’s hand.

“Yes,” she said, serene as ever. “Finish this.”

“Then-then-” the magistrate stammered, leafing through his book to the final pages. He looked quite pale, and his deep voice was suddenly breathy. “Bound together in friendship, bound together before witnesses, bound together in marriage,” he rattled off. “From this day forward, you will be known to all as husband and wife.”

“That’s done, then,” Kiernan said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, and the whole crowd fell apart.

Kirra spun on one heel, lifted her arms above her head, and collected herself into a dark winged shape. Flinging herself into the air, she skimmed over the heads of the visitors and ducked out the great door. She barely beat Tayse, who had sprinted for the threshold the instant the magistrate’s last words had sounded. Senneth turned to follow but got caught up in the milling crowd. People were crying, reaching out to grab each other, calling out questions, edging for the door, edging back.

Malcolm strode through the mob, Kiernan close at his heels, then turned at the door to address his guests. “You are probably safest if you stay here,” he said. “Those with weapons who wish to use them are welcome to join the defense.” And he disappeared out the door.

A hand caught Senneth’s arm; she turned to find Will and Casserah beside her. “Will you stay or will you fight?” Casserah asked. Senneth was impressed at her iron control. She clearly realized the situation was dangerous but was not about to melt into a puddle of fear.

“Fight,” Senneth said, “though I’m hardly dressed for it.”

“I have a sword in my room,” Will said.

Senneth shook her head. “No. You and Casserah stay here. The point of this whole day was to unite Danalustrous and Brassenthwaite. It’s why Malcolm wanted the ceremony concluded. The two of you must be safe no matter who else falls.”

Will glanced at his new bride. “Do you have any idea who would attack? Has Halchon Gisseltess decided to open his war on Danan Hall?”

Casserah shook her head. “No one crossed the borders. This is local trouble.”

Senneth’s eyes narrowed. So Casserah, like her father, could sense when the boundaries of the land were breached. “Who would wish you so ill on your wedding day?”

“I’m only guessing. But I suspect Thirteenth House lords who have been dissatisfied with the distribution of property.” She thought a moment. “There is one young lord in particular who dislikes me. Chalfrey Mallon. He would be especially glad to see me wounded on what should be my happiest day.”

Senneth felt rage race through her; her temperature was rising, dangerously high. “Cruel and stupid,” she said in a harsh voice. “To try to bring pain where there should be joy.”

“He is cruel and stupid,” Casserah agreed. “And so we have death instead.”

Senneth stalked toward the door, her dark blue dress swirling around her ankles. “Well, Danalustrous and Brassenthwaite defend their own.”

As soon as she was in the hallway, she started running, following the scurry of servants, the sounds of combat. Casserah was right. No foreign force could have gotten this close to the Hall without Malcolm being aware of it. Whoever these invaders were, they had come cloaked in Danalustrous colors. How many troops could such malcontents have raised? Enough to overrun Malcolm’s personal guard?

She burst through the front door and came upon a melee. It was almost impossible to tell who was fighting on what side, since the majority of the combatants were wearing red. But the invaders were on horseback and the defenders mostly on foot, a bad matchup for the Hall. There were terrible sounds of shouting men, screaming horses, clashing blades. She could see Tayse off to her right, unexpectedly mounted-he must have wrenched a horse from one of the assailants. He laid about him with a furious and brutal efficiency, cutting a swath through the oncoming soldiers. A phalanx of soldiers in blue and red waded behind him, emboldened by his charge, dispatching enemies with a righteous fervor.

But there. Near the garden. A line of invaders was weaving through the ornamental hedges, creeping toward the manor as if to slip in the back way and wreak havoc in the halls. Two civil guardsmen spotted them and let out yells as they ran to engage them, but there were already twenty enemies almost at the house.

Senneth flung a hand out, and the whole maze of hedges burst into flames. Two invaders cried out in pain, saw their trousers catch fire, and dropped to the ground. A dozen of their companions broke free of the sizzling shrubbery and headed toward the house at a dead run. Another eight or ten backed up, away from the flames, away from the battle, and watched indecisively.

Senneth snapped her wrist. The first of the oncoming soldiers ignited and screamed in agony. She splayed her hand again and two more men started blazing. Again. Again. Mad with pain and terror, the enemy fighters shrieked and flung themselves to the ground, rolling on the brown grass. The soldiers who had held back now turned on their heels and sped away.

Senneth felt the heat licking through her veins; her eyes were misted with a fine red. She might have been on fire herself, or perhaps it was just fury that consumed her. She swung her attention back to the main fray and ran forward to cast herself into the middle of it, heedless of swinging blades and trampling horses. Who was loyal, who traitorous? When she was sure, she placed her torrid hand on a soldier’s arm, on his back, and heard him scream as his clothes caught fire. Ten men burned as she darted through the grunting, battling squads. Twenty. Thirty.

But more were coming. How many more? How far away were they? She snatched a blade up from a fallen combatant, and hewed her way through the mass of men. Her blue dress was covered in dirt, spattered with blood, ripped at the knees, and, gods, was it inconvenient. She hacked and kicked and burned her way through the crowd and finally was clear of the first ring of attackers.

She stood on the outer lawns of Danan Hall, breathing hard, staring around her, wondering where the next assault might come from.

A hawk plummeted from above, talons outstretched. As soon as he touched down, he took Donnal’s shape. His feet were bare and covered with blood.

“How many?” she demanded. “How far away?”

“Maybe a thousand advancing from south and west,” he said, pointing. “The marlord’s reserve soldiers are on the run from the north. But the enemy will arrive first.”

“How many in the marlord’s troops?”

“Easily two thousand. There’s another several thousand that can be summoned, but they’re housed on property a day’s ride from here.”

“How quickly will reinforcements arrive?”

“Maybe an hour.”

“And the advancing troops?”

But she could hear them herself, the thunder of hooves, the shouts of men. “Now,” Donnal whispered just as the first men broke across the horizon line and charged straight for the embattled Hall.

Senneth spun around, flung her arms wide before her, and called up a monstrous wall of flame. It was taller than an oak tree and raced a mile from either side of her; she felt her own skin blister from its roaring heat. At least fifty men cantered through it, unable to pull up their horses in time. They were shrieking in pain, and their mounts snorted and reared and threw them to the ground. Through the wicked crackle of the flames she could hear shouts and cries on the other side, questions flung out, orders issued, orders remanded. One or two more soldiers braved the barrier and came through, livid with fire.

Senneth spread her fingers as wide as they would go, extended her arms before her, and pushed. The whole long wall of fire crept slowly away from her, leaving a charred band of black in the grass. More cries and yelping on the other side as the attackers realized the conflagration was advancing. She heard a confusion of horse hooves retreating, more shouts, more cursing.

She took a long breath, gathered her strength, and pushed again.

Step by blazing step, she forced the opposing forces backward, till she was crunching through a broad swath of cinders as she crossed her own original line. Donnal gathered himself back into a bird shape and darted away to reconnoiter, returning a few minutes later to report.

“They’re spreading out in both directions,” he said. “Trying to find a way around the flame.”

Senneth nodded. She gathered her fingers into points and stretched her arms wide, extending the wall of fire another quarter mile on each side, another half mile. It was taking all her energy, all her strength, but she could enclose the entire Hall in a circle of flame if she had to. “Where are our reinforcements now?” she asked in a tight voice.

“Another half an hour away. The battle on the inside is nearly won-only a few attackers are still fighting for their lives.”

“Tell the others to gather at the edges of the fire and await any who try to break through.”

She could hear what was almost a smile in Donnal’s voice, though she couldn’t break her concentration enough to look at him. “Tayse has already organized them to do so. He wants to know how long you can hold the wall?”

“Till dawn, if necessary.”

“I don’t think the fight will last that long,” Donnal said. A rustle, a shadow; he had changed and flown away.

Senneth stood where he had left her, spine stretched up, head tipped back, arms still spread as wide as they would go, and fed her soul to the fire. She was alive with magic; a liquid fever careened through her veins. Her fingertips were candlewicks, and flames danced at the end of each one. Each individual strand of her hair was on fire; her eyebrows had been singed. There was nothing in the world except heat and energy and rage. Noises had fallen away, time had ceased to pass or matter. She was an elemental in a primitive state, and she could burn forever.

It was Tayse’s voice that brought her back to a sense of humanity, a sense of self. “Senneth,” he named her, his voice both compelling and soft. “Senneth. Drop your arms. Let the fire die. We have vanquished them. The Hall is safe.”

He said the whole speech three times before his words actually registered. Slowly she opened her eyes, tilted her head forward, allowed her arms to fall to her sides. Instantly, the fire went out. Just as instantly, she was flooded with a multitude of pains. Her back ached, her arms were sore, and Bright Mother of the burning sky, her head hurt so badly she thought it might shatter. She looked around in wonderment a moment, orienting herself. Still daylight, though the sun was low on the horizon. Before her, a scattering of charred and broken bodies littered the ground. Behind her, a grim and efficient cleanup was under way, as servants and soldiers moved through the dead and wounded, searching for friends, carrying away the bodies of enemy and comrade alike.

“What were our costs?” she asked in a hoarse voice.

“More than seventy dead. Mostly Danalustrous men, though a few Brassenthwaite soldiers fell in the defense. The assailants lost four times that number and eventually retreated. Some of Malcolm’s soldiers are pursuing.”

She put a shaky hand up to the back of her neck. Every small movement was agony. Her bones felt brittle and scored by heat. Surely someone had taken a chisel and hammered a thousand holes in her skull. “Who attacked? Could he tell?”

“It appears to be the work of three malcontent vassal lords who had been left out of the negotiations to inherit property outright.” He shrugged. “Now their sons and daughters will inherit nothing but shame.”

He took her arm and she leaned on him heavily as he escorted her back toward the manor house. So many bodies-such a dreadful sight on Malcolm Danalustrous’s well-manicured lawns. “Tell them,” she said. “If they gather up the bodies, I can make a pyre.”

“I think they can make a pyre of their own with more traditional methods,” he said firmly. “You need to rest. You look the color of ash-gray and white. And just as likely to disintegrate.”

“My head hurts,” she said.

“I’ll help you as soon as we get to the room.”

They came upon a pile of fallen bodies; no easy task to pick a way through. Tayse simply lifted Senneth up and carried her around them. She knew she should protest that she was perfectly fine, but she felt utterly dreadful. She leaned her head against his shoulder and listened to the rumble of his voice from deep in his chest. “Your brother is anxious to make sure all is well in Brassenthwaite. He plans to set out for home first thing in the morning.”

“We should leave for Ghosenhall tonight,” she muttered.

“We’ll leave in the morning,” he said. “If your headache is better.”

She wanted to lift a hand to rub her temple, but she couldn’t make the effort. “It’ll take us almost a week to get back.”

“We might be able to push that.”

“I wish we hadn’t come!”

They were almost at the broad, gracious front entrance of the manor, just now stained with blood and piled high with discarded weaponry. Tayse bent to kiss her gently on the forehead. “You saved the Hall,” he said. “They all might be dead if you had not been here.”

That silenced her for the whole trek through the foyer, up the stairs, and down the corridor to their room. There was no fire in the grate and the air was cool, for which Senneth was grateful. Her skin was still heated; her pulse was too high, too fast, too thick.

Tayse settled on the bed beside her, arranging her so that her back was to his chest but she was leaning away from him. On their very first journey together, he had learned the trick of chasing away her headaches. No one else had the physical strength or reach to command all the pressure points at once. Now, very gently, he placed the thumb of one hand on a bone partway down her spine. With the other hand, he cupped the back of her neck. Senneth braced her fists against the bed.

“I’m ready,” she said.

His hand closed around her neck; his thumb bored into her back. She gasped with a sensation that was both pain and the cessation of pain. It was as if his hands were as ferocious and unbreachable as her own wall of fire. It was as if they made a barrier that misery could not cross. Still, the suffocating hold was difficult to endure. She invariably had spectacular bruises the day after a cure like this, but the alternative was three days or more of migraine.

“All right-enough,” she breathed, and he slowly released her. They both waited in silence a moment to see if the pain would come washing back, but Senneth felt nothing now except hollow exhaustion. “I think that’s done it. What a gift you have for healing me.”

“The gift I treasure most,” he said solemnly. His hand pushed her down so she was lying on the bed. “Sleep now. I’ll go hear the councils of war.”

“I need to talk to Kirra,” she said drowsily.

“I’m sure she’ll be by as soon as she’s taken care of details of her own.”

“And my dress is covered with blood.”

“You can take it off later. Sleep now.” He leaned over and brushed his mouth across hers. The light kiss made her smile. She was asleep before he left the room.

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