Quatrain (49 page)

He stamped away, still muttering. Watching him go, Betony said, “He seems calmer than yesterday, don’t you think? And Albert says the whole mood of the town is softening. No one is talking about stoning you anymore. They just want you gone, and no more trouble.”

“Happy to leave,” Senneth said. “But I promise you, there
will
be more trouble once I’m gone.”

“I suppose you can’t tell who the other mystic is?” Betony asked.

“Mystics look just like anybody else, unless you catch them actively doing magic,” Senneth drawled. “That’s what makes them so frightening. How can you ever know if your friend is a mystic? Or your neighbor? Or your son? How can you know that
you
won’t suddenly develop magic, and turn into the very thing you have always despised?”

Betony showed a little fear at that thought, though Senneth gave her credit for trying to cover it up. “How
do
you know?”

“Most mystics discover their power pretty early—certainly before they’re twelve or fourteen,” Senneth said. “I’m guessing someone in Benneld has just figured out what he can do and still doesn’t understand it. If we knew who he was, and I could talk to him, I think I could help him control his power—at least enough to make sure he doesn’t burn down every house for five miles.”

“That would be kind,” Betony said, “considering the way the townspeople have treated you.”

Senneth gave her a warm smile. “Considering the way some of the townspeople have treated me,” she said, “it is the least I can do.”

A servant brought in an early dinner, since Julia had not bothered to show her face in Senneth’s room again. The girl was followed by an elegant yellow tabby with thick winter fur, a disdainful expression, and an attitude of owning the world.

As she set her tray down on a small table, the servant girl said to the cat, “Shoo! Get out!” The tabby ignored her and daintily circled the room, pausing to sniff at Senneth’s boots.

“I take it this creature belongs in the barn or kitchen, catching mice,” Senneth said with a friendly grin.

“Not even! I don’t know where it came from, but it’s been hanging around since this morning. Cook wants it gone, because it keeps stealing meat from the platters.”

It was clear Betony was not partial to cats. “Well, Senneth has suffered enough indignities in this house,” she said coldly. “She should not have to endure
animals
crawling through her room.”

But Senneth’s eyes were on the golden cat, which had dropped to its haunches and curled its full tail around its front legs. The color of its eyes was a startling blue and the tilt of its head was almost aristocratic. It was staring at Senneth with unblinking intensity.

“I like cats,” Senneth said. “Let it stay.”

“Well, if you want it to, I guess,” the girl said doubtfully.

“They make me sneeze,” Betony said apologetically, instantly proving the truth of her words.

“You go on home,” Senneth said. “You’ve been here all day. Come back tomorrow if you like. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

Betony sneezed again, got to her feet, and hugged Senneth good-bye. “I can’t tell you how dreadful I feel about what has happened to you,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” Senneth said. “Everything will be all right.”

Betony left with the servant girl. Senneth waited until the lock fell back in place and the sound of the women’s footsteps had faded down the hall. The whole time she kept her eyes on the cat, which stared inscrutably back at her.

When she finally judged it safe, Senneth said, “Where’s Donnal?”

If an animal could laugh, this one did. It came to its feet, stretched out its lithe body, and kept stretching. Its spine extended; its golden fur turned to golden curls; its sharp, pointed face broadened and refined and turned into a woman’s. Within a minute, Kirra stood there, dressed for travel and insouciant as ever.

“He’s in the kitchen, nosing around for scraps,” Kirra said. She threw herself across the room as if to take Senneth in an embrace, but Senneth flung up her right hand.

“They’ve bound me with moonstones—you’ll burn yourself,” she warned.

“What’s
happened
?” Kirra demanded, coming to a halt and hovering restlessly next to the bed. “I came to Benneld yesterday to try and track you down, and I found you accused of crimes and put under guard! And wrapped with moonstones? How
dare
they? And how can you stand it? I would be whimpering on the floor by now.”

Senneth held up her left hand and inspected the moonstone bracelet, glowing with its usual pale phosphorescence. “I don’t know how I can stand it,” she said. “They burn, but—not in a way that bothers me. I have to say it pleases me—in a sort of dark, self-satisfied way—to learn that moonstones have no power over me. It was something I didn’t know before.”

“Well, that certainly makes arrest and imprisonment completely worthwhile!” Kirra exclaimed. “How are we going to get you out of here? There must be something in the room that I can turn into a knife so you can cut the rope.”

“I believe the house is full of guards,” Senneth said. “Tricky to slip past them.”

“I only saw three,” Kirra replied. “If we wait till dark, I can take care of one, and I’m sure Donnal can account for two. Unless—I can’t tell—does the man of the house side with you or with your enemies? There might be a fourth one to disarm.”

“Degarde is not sure how he feels about me,” Senneth said with a touch of humor. “Before I was accused of witchcraft, he liked me very well indeed, and even was making some vaguely romantic overtures.”

Kirra was instantly diverted. “Oh,
that
must have made you uncomfortable! Was he picturing you presiding over this little house, bearing him sweet babies and settling into a blissful domesticity? The very life you would despise above any other.”

Senneth couldn’t help grinning. “I will settle into such a life if
you
will.”

“Exactly! So did you spurn his advances? Is that why he turned on you and named you a witch?”

Senneth shook her head. “He knew I was mystic and didn’t seem to hold it against me—until inexplicable fires kept breaking out whenever I was nearby. Even so, he was more reluctant than some of his fellows to blame
me
for the flames.”

Kirra arched her delicate brows. “Another mystic in town, operating in secret?”

“The fires have certainly been magical,” Senneth said. “But I don’t know who’s setting them.”

“And I don’t care!” Kirra replied. “We need to get you away from here before the entire town turns on you in violence.”

“That was the original plan, but Betony tells me that, after thinking it over a day, they are not so eager to kill me.”

“They won’t kill me,” she said quietly. “They can’t do it.” She held up her left hand, the one decorated with the moonstone bracelet, and let fire dance from her fingertips while she talked. “I still have all my power. I could burn the rope off my body, I could set the whole house ablaze and stroll out of here through a corridor of fire, and none of them would be able to stop me. I am bound because I let them take me, and I am here because I have chosen to stay.”

“Then you’re mad, and I should find a way to get you out of here against your will.”

Senneth smiled tightly. “I want to solve the mystery. I want to discover who the mystic is. Or once I’m gone, those who live here will discover it in the most drastic fashion possible.”

Kirra had coiled up on the bed beside Senneth, catlike even in human form, but now she jumped up and began pacing. “I am not so convinced you can free yourself, despite what you say,” she said. “There is a contingent of King’s Riders passing through Kianlever, a half day from here. Donnal and I passed them on the road. Shall I go fetch them?”

Senneth was amused. King’s Riders were an elite group of soldiers with an unshakable devotion to the king and very little interest in any other human being. “I hardly think you would convince them to come riding to the rescue of a mystic,” she said.

“I could, if I told them Baryn had commissioned you to perform a service for him. Which has the advantage of being the truth!”

“Kirra. I’m not afraid. I’m very glad to see you, and I appreciate your offer of help, but I can handle this by myself. They want to wait one more day and see if any sorcerous flames appear when I am not near enough to call them up. After that, I believe they will release me. I would like to stay till then, just in case the rogue mystic acts again—just in case there is something I can do. But if that deadline passes and there are no more fires, I promise you, I will go directly to Ghosenhall.”

Kirra appeared to not even be listening. “I’ll go to the Riders—I’m sure they’ll listen to me,” she said, as if speaking to herself. “But I don’t like to leave you here alone.” She nodded decisively. “Donnal will stay. He can help defend you if anyone offers you harm.”

“Kirra—”

Kirra turned back toward the bed, a smile on her lovely face. “You can’t stop me, so don’t even try,” she said. “Is there anything you need before I leave?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll tell Donnal the plan,” Kirra said. “He’ll come up and spend the night in your room.”

Senneth didn’t bother asking how Donnal would get in. Both of the shiftlings could transform themselves into any living shape. He might waddle under the door as a beetle or fly in as some kind of insect. “Well, if he takes dog form to sleep on the foot of my bed, it might be hard to explain him in the morning.”

Kirra gave her that dazzling smile. “All the stray animals of the estate are drawn to your presence,” she said. “How could it be otherwise? I’ll return tomorrow one way or the other—with or without Riders at my back.”

Senneth stood up to say farewell, carefully wrapping her right arm around Kirra’s shoulders and making sure none of the moonstones touched her. “I appreciate the effort,” she said, “but you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Somebody should worry about you,” Kirra informed her as she pulled back. “It may as well be me.”

A few moments later, Kirra had transformed herself into a tiny mouse and scrabbled under the door into the hallway. Senneth tried to imagine her route down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was not very late—scarcely full dark—and plenty of people were still roaming the house. A mouse had better be extremely careful if it didn’t want to fall afoul of a wide variety of hazards.

Senneth didn’t have much time to fret about Kirra. About a half hour later, the same servant returned to collect the dinner tray. The instant she opened the door, a small black sparrow swooped in behind her and fluttered around the room before settling on the curtain rod.

“That bird!” the girl exclaimed. “Got into the kitchen this morning, and the cook chased it with a broom, but it just kept flying around where no one could reach it. I’ll call the footmen to come get it out of your room.”

“Don’t bother,” Senneth said. “It’ll keep me company.”

The girl glanced around. “Where did that cat go?”

“Under the bed,” Senneth said without hesitation.

“Maybe the cat’ll eat the bird,” the girl said. “That would be nice.”

“I’ll let you know if it happens,” Senneth replied.

The door had barely locked behind the servant girl when Donnal drifted to the floor and whirled into the form of a man. Unlike Kirra, he could change shapes so quickly Senneth’s eyes couldn’t follow the transformation.

“I brought a deck of cards,” he said by way of greeting. “Want to play a couple of hands?”

Donnal was always the easiest company imaginable—quiet, good - humored, and undemanding, with a relaxed way of talking that was soothing to a troubled soul. At the same time, his animal instincts kept him extremely alert, and he was never caught off guard by someone barging into the room unexpectedly. Twice he looked up and, without a word, transmogrified himself into something small and unnoticeable before Senneth even heard a footfall in the hallway.

Once the visitor was Baxter, coming to taunt her before retiring for the day. Once it was Degarde, shamefaced and nervous.

“I just wanted you to know—if there are no more unexplained fires tomorrow—the townspeople have agreed to release you the morning of the following day,” he said. “There will be no harm to your person. But you will be escorted some distance away and asked never to return to this place.”

“Do you imagine I
would
have any incentive to return?” Senneth said dryly.

“I wished—I had thought—I had hoped you and I could be friends,” he said miserably.

She tried not to laugh. “There was never any likelihood of that.”

“I know that I—I have offended you by displaying my doubt—by not believing in you wholeheartedly—but I considered and reconsidered, and I am sure—that is, I believe—”

She decided to take pity on him. “Degarde. This is why it is very difficult for ordinary men to befriend mystics. Because you are
not
quite sure. Because you will never be quite sure. And even if you were able to thoroughly, completely, absolutely convince yourself that there is no malice in me, despite my ferocious power, everyone around you would always wonder. You would constantly be forced to defend me. It would wear you out, you know. You are much better off not trying to be my friend.”