Free Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses) by Sharon Shinn Page B

beginning to echo Coralinda’s words. It is very distressing to me. I have stopped such talk when it is said in the open, but there is no controlling what people whisper to each other at night.”
    “Indeed, there is not,” Kirra said. “Once again, I must thank you for your information. Helven has always been a good friend to Danalustrous, and so it is again.”
    They talked a few minutes longer, but it was clear even to Martin Helven that Kirra was through with him for the day. He did offer to have her to dinner the following night—“My wife and daughters would be overjoyed to see you”—but she gave him a smiling refusal. She would be on her way again in the morning; she was very sure she would turn back to Danalustrous. But she would carry kind words about him to her father, and she sent with him all her love for the women of his family.
    As soon as Tayse had saluted the Helven lord out of the room and closed the door behind him, Kirra leapt to her feet and stared at Senneth. Senneth stayed seated where she was, but she had dropped her sewing to the bench beside her, and she was staring back.
    “Coralinda Gisseltess orchestrating a persecution of mystics!” Kirra exclaimed. “Senneth, did you know anything about this? How can this be happening without every mystic in the land crying out the news?”
    Senneth shook her head. “The king mentioned something of the sort to me, but only in passing,” she said quietly. “It was not his main concern.”
    Kirra was stalking back and forth across the luxurious carpets. “Well, anything that creates such a disturbance in the kingdom should be his concern!” she said. “If she has influenced the southern nobles to such an extent—what other kind of suggestions might she whisper in their ears?”
    “Exactly right,” Senneth said. “And Coralinda Gisseltess is a very persuasive woman.”
    Kirra came to an abrupt halt and gazed at Senneth. Tayse was interested to see that, as soon as Martin Helven had stepped out of the room, Senneth’s face had resumed its normal contours, its usual mix of wariness and intelligence. Even her hair was its usual pale aureole.
    “What do you know about her?” Kirra said more quietly. “I was a child when she joined the Daughters, and I don’t remember anyone talking about her much.”
    “It was something of a scandal at the time,” Senneth said. “Since you’ve been old enough to pay any attention, people have started to worship the Pale Mother again, but I remember a day when no one gave much service to any of the gods. There’s a shrine in Ghosenhall that honors the whole pantheon—the Bright Mother, the Pale Mother, the Green Keeper, the Dark Watcher—there are a dozen, if I remember correctly, but even I don’t know all their names. All the gods had fallen out of favor when I was a little girl.”
    There was a sound, and Tayse’s knife was instantly in his hand, but it was only the door opening from the connecting room. “What happened?” Justin asked. “Did he say anything interesting?”
    Kirra was looking at Donnal, who walked in behind Justin. Cammon followed last. “Mystics are being murdered throughout the southern regions,” Kirra said. “He thinks some of it is the work of Coralinda Gisseltess, who joined the order of the Pale Mother some twenty years ago, and now is urging nobles to cast out or destroy anyone with magical power.”
    Donnal’s face only grew darker and more solemn at the news. Cammon looked frightened, and Justin looked unimpressed. “I told you,” Justin said. “People don’t like mystics.”
    “That doesn’t mean they go around butchering them in their own houses,” Donnal said.
    “No,” Justin said in a begrudging voice. “No—and a systematic campaign to eliminate them—” He looked over at Tayse. “What does it mean for us?”
    “We were just discussing that,” Tayse replied. “Senneth was giving us a lesson in religious history.”
    Justin looked disbelieving.