Justin grinned as he shuffled back toward her. “He’s magistrate of the town. Runs the civil guard, settles disputes. He made a point of getting to know me—I think he probably makes a point of getting to know any drifters who start to hang around.”
“Did you tell him who you were?” Donnal asked.
He shook his head. “No. But I know he thought I was here for some purpose. And we had a couple of guarded conversations about the Daughters of the Pale Mother that led me to believe he didn’t agree with the Lestra’s persecution of mystics.”
Kirra laughed. “Gods, let’s hope not! With four of them in the house.” She glanced at Donnal. “Five, I suppose. Including Ellynor.”
“I had the feeling I could trust him, but—” He shrugged. “I suppose you don’t ever know for certain till you put your trust to the test.”
“Cammon likes him,” Donnal said, grinning. “So Tayse told him the truth.”
“About all of you being mystics?”
“I think he figured that out on his own,” Kirra said dryly. “About the two of you being Riders.”
Justin had paused with a hand on the bedpost. He was panting a little, but he was far from done with this simple exercise. By the stillness outside, he guessed it had to be an hour or two past midnight. An odd time for either rehabilitation or conversation, but Kirra and Donnal were both perfectly at ease. The shiftlings never seemed to adhere to ordinary rules for behavior.
“And how did Faeber take the news?” he wanted to know.
“Said, ‘That explains a lot,’ ” Donnal replied. “I think he was referring to the five men dead on the road. That seems to be the thing that has impressed him the most. He kept saying, ‘I didn’t see how that could be possible.’ ”
“They came at us without a warning,” Justin said. Once again, he was headed toward Donnal. “Didn’t give us a chance to talk or argue. Jenkins—the man with me—didn’t even have a weapon on him. They just slaughtered him. So I didn’t hold back. I went for the killing blows. I knew they would cut me down if they got the chance.” He touched the wall and glanced over at Donnal. “Any news in town about the dead soldiers? Anyone come looking?”
“Tayse got the story from Faeber, but I haven’t heard all the details,” Donnal said. “Apparently, convent guards
did
come to the city asking questions, but either there wasn’t a house-to-house search or nobody thought to check Faeber’s place. There was some talk that the reason your body hadn’t been found was that it had been dragged off into the forest and eaten. Apparently predators had gotten a start on the others. And you got lucky again. Rained the day after your fight—a lot of tracks left on the forest trail, but none on the main road into Neft. No one could follow the wagon to this house, even if they suspected a wagon had come for you.”
Justin grunted. “More magic from Ellynor’s goddess, maybe.”
“Who would that goddess be, do you know?” Kirra asked.
“The Dark Watcher. So she says.”
He saw Kirra exchange a troubled glance with Donnal, but he didn’t know how to read it. All she said was, “So how does she feel about the Pale Mother?”
He hadn’t tried to make the trek back toward the bed yet; he just stood against the wall, resting. “She seems fond of the Silver Lady. I don’t pretend to understand it. That’s the goddess who seems to incite so much hatred, and Ellynor is not good at hate.”
“Well, we’ll have to ask her more when she’s awake,” Kirra said.
Justin nodded, took a breath, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Kirra asked, alarmed. She was instantly beside him. Donnal had moved over just enough to block Justin’s exit.
“I want to see her.”
“I told you, she’s sleeping. She’s with Senneth. You can see her in the morning.”
“I want to see her now. I just want to—I just want to be sure.” He turned to give Kirra a look of open entreaty. There wasn’t much light in the room, but enough for her to see the expression on his face. “You’d do it. You wouldn’t let anyone keep you out of the room.”
“Justin, you can hardly stay on your feet!” she exclaimed, but Donnal stepped aside. Justin gave him a nod of thanks and opened the door. The hallway was dark, and he didn’t know this house, but he could see a stairway to his right and doors lined up down the hall to his left.
“The room next to yours,” Donnal said, following him out and standing just a pace behind.
Justin ran one hand along the rough surface of the wall to help him keep his balance, but made it without trouble to the designated door. A soft knock, just to alert anyone who might be awake, and then he pushed the door open and went in.
A bed—a chair—a single candle—dark shadows of smaller furniture against the walls. Whoever was in the chair quickly stood up as Justin entered, but the shape under the covers on the bed did not move.
Ellynor. Ellynor lying there, her dark patterned hair spread out over the white pillows, her delicate face pale even by insufficient light. Her eyelids closed. Her hands lax on the quilt. Not appearing to move at all.
He had taken three steps toward the bed before he realized it was Senneth who had risen from the chair and intercepted him in the middle of the room. “Justin!” she whispered. “What are you doing up?”
She caught him by both arms and held him in place. He felt the heat from her hands burn through the thin cotton of his nightshirt. She was about as tall as he was and, at the moment, stronger; he could not push past her.
“I wanted to see her,” he replied. He craned his neck to see past Senneth’s shoulder. The blankets rose and fell in a slight but rhythmic pattern.
A strangled laugh from Senneth, and then she shook him, hard enough to make his head wobble. “I’m so glad you’re awake and coherent, but, Justin, you need to lie back down. I’ ll take care of Ellynor. She’ll be fine. You can visit her in the morning.”
“Has she woken up yet? Said anything?” Kirra asked from behind him, and he realized she had followed him into the room.
“Twice. Just long enough to eat something and ask after Justin.” She smiled at him, and he could see, beneath her concern, a genuine delight that he was recovered enough to be up and strolling around. “I told her he was growing stronger with every passing hour. It calmed her enough to let her go back to sleep.”
“She’ll be all right, though? She won’t—she won’t die?”
Senneth’s hands tightened on his arms with enough pressure to force his attention back to her face. Her expression was serious; she was clearly willing him to believe. “No. Justin. She won’t die. I’m here. I’ll take care of her. You have to trust me.”
“I do trust you,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “But Senneth—Ellynor. She—she doesn’t know you. I don’t want her to be afraid.”
Senneth put one warm hand up to his cheek and smiled at him tenderly. “She’s not afraid, Justin. When she heard you were going to live, I think her last fear disappeared. Now you go on. Go back to bed and sleep. You want to be well enough to come see her in the morning.”
“Will she be awake then? Will she be feeling better?”
Senneth smiled. “She’ll probably be stronger than you.”
“Is that a challenge?” Kirra inquired. “Is that an insult to my magic? Come here, gutter boy! Let me see if I can get you returned to a state of glowing health by morning.”
Senneth dropped her hands but gave him a little push toward the door. “Go. Let Kirra do her work. Get some sleep. I’ll watch over Ellynor till morning.”
CHAPTER 32
THE next day, Justin woke feeling sore, ravenous, and edgy. He threw back the covers and came to his feet before he’d even glanced over to see if Kirra was still in the chair, guarding him. No—it was empty. A good sign, he thought. She didn’t think he was weak enough to require constant scrutiny. He balled his hands up and bounced on his feet, feeling exponentially better than he had the night before. She must, indeed, have poured more magic into his veins while he slept. He knew enough about sword wounds to know they did not improve this rapidly on their own.
Still, he was far from whole. His muscles responded slowly when he mimed a quick grab at an imaginary weapon. Even cautious steps across the room woke pain in his chest, his shoulders, his legs. Not unendurable pain, though. He lengthened his stride, punching at the air as he walked. He would not be up to fighting strength for weeks.
Days, maybe, if Kirra continued to heal him.
The door opened quietly and Cammon’s head appeared. He smiled broadly when he saw Justin was up and came all the way inside. “You look much better! How do you feel?”
“Not so good now, but like I’ll mend pretty well,” Justin said. He crossed over to clout Cammon affectionately on the shoulder. “How can you do tricks like that? Feel me get sliced by a sword from a couple hundred miles away? How can anybody do that?”
Cammon shrugged. “I just can. Lucky for
you
.”
Justin grinned. “No end of luck this trip out, it seems.”
“Are you hungry? I brought you food.”
“Starving. Bring it right in.”
They sat at a small table and ate from the same platter, though Cammon let Justin consume most of the items on the tray. Justin was only halfway through when other visitors started arriving. Tayse was the first to step through the door, moving silently on his big feet and coming to stand beside them. Even through his slight smile, the Rider’s dark face looked deeply serious.
“It would have been a grievous day if we had lost you,” Tayse said. “The king and all the Riders would have mourned.”
Justin swallowed and pushed aside his tray. He came to his feet with much less effort this time. “I almost managed it,” he said. “Five was too many.”
“You did manage it,” Tayse said. “You survived and they did not.”
“Well, he survived because someone helped him,” Cammon pointed out.
Tayse turned that sober look on Cammon. “And someone helped him because he has the ability to make friends,” Tayse said. “That’s a weapon as valuable as any blade.”
Justin laughed. “No need to lecture Cammon,” he said. “He already has that weapon.”
“True.” Tayse returned his attention to Justin. “Kirra said you would be much improved this morning. And are you?”
Justin nodded. “Weak, though. I need to get to a training yard and see how heavy my sword has become.”
Another faint smile for that. “I think your friend would allow us the use of his barn, perhaps. It doesn’t seem wise to parade you in public much.”
“So no one knows I’ve survived?”
“No one except the people in this house.”
“What about Delz?” Seeing the question on Tayse’s face, Justin added, “The man who owns the stables. Where I worked.”
“Oh, he thinks you’re dead,” Cammon said. “After we found you here, Donnal and I went over there and pretended to be looking for you. We wanted to see if he knew anything about the fight, but he seemed completely at a loss. Worried about you, though.”
“I hate to have him thinking I ran off on him. Or really am dead,” Justin said.