“I live to earn such distinctions,” Kirra replied.
But Kirra was just as popular as Senneth was with a party that visited Eddie’s right before lunch. The group consisted of an attractive young woman, her squirming toddler, and a fair-haired man with dreamy eyes. Kirra recognized the woman first and jumped up to give her a hug.
“Annie!” she said. “Look at you! The last time I saw you, you were on the threshold of death. Oh, and this must be Kinnon. What a troublesome boy you were the night you were born.”
Annie laughed, introduced her husband, and thanked them as earnestly as Sosie had for saving both her baby and herself. “We were glad to do it,” Kirra said merrily. “Always delighted to show off our magic to a town full of people who hate mystics! And Senneth got to set a bunch of people on fire, so that made her especially happy. So tell me about the little one! He seemed awfully willful as he was coming into the world. Is it too much to hope that he’s gotten easier to handle?”
They only chatted a few minutes before more strangers showed up, looking for an audience with Senneth. It was late before there was a break in the stream of visitors, and by then, Senneth and Kirra were starving. Tayse and Donnal had joined them, so Sosie brought meals to all of them, putting a bowl of stew on the floor for Donnal. They’d just finished eating when Sosie returned, wrapping a towel around her hands and glancing back toward the kitchen door.
“Would you be willing to go to the kitchen a moment?” she asked in a diffident voice. “There’s someone you might want to meet, but she’s shy and she’s strange and I don’t think she’ll come to the front room.”
Senneth and Kirra exchanged glances and quickly rose to their feet. Tayse and Donnal followed them through the door, too curious to stay behind.
A young woman was moving through the small kitchen as if she didn’t really see the layout of table and oven and baker’s rack. Her muddy green eyes were focused on something invisible to the rest of them; her hands were half lifted as if to catch something that might be tossed her way. Her hair was tangled, her face was none too clean, and Senneth noted with astonishment that her feet were bare. Yet a faint fragrance clung to her of roses or lilies or irises. Kirra caught it, too, for Senneth saw her sniff and look around as if trying to locate an unseasonal bouquet.
Sosie touched the woman’s arm to catch her attention. “Lara,” she said, and then repeated the name. “Lara, remember I wanted you to meet Senneth.”
Lara’s strange eyes passed unseeingly over Senneth’s face and went to Kirra. She nodded silently and then turned her gaze toward the window.
“Are you a mystic?” Senneth tried.
Lara said nothing, so Sosie answered for her. “She is, though I don’t really understand her power. She’s a healer of some kind. I’ve seen her bring people back from the brink of death, but it’s not the kind of power that Kirra has. And she can make anything grow-she can touch a tree and ripen fruit two months out of season. It’s as if her power was spring, or maybe life itself.” Sosie smiled, as if that sounded foolish. “Or maybe her power is hope.”
Kirra’s voice sounded behind her, quiet and unalarming. “Surely there must be a goddess of growing things,” Kirra said. “Such a one would claim a woman like this.”
“Can she hear us?” Senneth said.
“I don’t know. Sometimes she participates in conversations, but I’m never sure of what she does and doesn’t hear. She’s only here rarely-I think she just wanders barefoot around Gillengaria most of the year.”
“Well, Lara, I hope you wander to Ghosenhall someday soon,” Senneth said in a friendly way. “I’m sure we will need all the healers we can accumulate if war really does descend on us.”
For a moment, it seemed as though Senneth’s voice penetrated the other woman’s abstraction. Lara’s eyes rested on Senneth’s face. “War,” she repeated.
“Though I hope not,” Senneth added.
Lara’s attention drifted back to Kirra, down to Donnal, and over to Tayse-and then suddenly sharpened. She took in his stance, his weapons, the gold lions embroidered on his sash. “King’s Rider,” she said distinctly.
They all froze, and then Tayse said quietly, “Yes, I’m a Rider. How do you know of such as me?”
“Justin,” Lara said.
Now they were all astonished and having no luck hiding it. “You know Justin?” Tayse repeated.
“Cammon,” the strange woman added.
“Justin and Cammon?” Kirra said. “Wait-are you the mystic they rescued last fall when Justin was on his way to Neft?”
Lara turned her attention back to Senneth. “I will help you,” she said, “if war comes.” Before they could recover from their amazement, she turned to Sosie, gave the other girl a quick embrace, and slipped out the back door, making no noise with her bare feet.
They all stared after her, though Sosie was choking on a giggle. “And that’s a fairly typical conversation with Lara,” she said at last. “But I thought you should meet her if you got a chance. She is-I think she’s very good. But she’s not like anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Can anyone else smell roses?” Kirra demanded.
“Sosie’s right,” Senneth said. “Her power is spring.”
“Well, spring is coming, and war might be coming with it,” Tayse said. “I would be relieved if it came wearing Lara’s face instead of Halchon Gisseltess’s countenance.”
Senneth gave a last glance at the door where Lara had disappeared and offered a sigh. “Maybe it will come wearing both.”
SHORTLY afterward, Jase dropped by for lessons. By the time Senneth had spent an hour with him, he was able to manufacture fire from his own body heat and keep a piece of paper from burning even though it was red with flame. “If you come to Ghosenhall, there’s a man who would love to tutor you,” Senneth told him, writing Jerril’s name and address on a piece of paper.
He pocketed it carefully but shook his head. “Probably not anytime soon. My folks brought me here to keep me safe and I don’t think they like the idea of leaving just yet.”
“And we hardly want to strip the place of all its magic,” Kirra added to Senneth after he’d left and they had settled back into the booth. “How strange to have a town of mystics if all the mystics have fled.”
Senneth grinned. “I’d guess only a handful will come to Ghosenhall now-the adventurous ones who are starting to chafe at the safe but dull existence they’re leading,” she said. “Well, think about it! Neither you nor I would have been able to live here more than a month or two without suddenly feeling the urge to wander off and explore the world again.”
“Mystics are restless,” Kirra agreed. “Hard to believe that this many of them could have settled down long enough to actually form a town.”
Senneth was watching two men enter the tavern, a younger one supporting an older one who appeared to be both blind and physically weak. “What I think,” she said slowly, “is that enough of them were in danger enough times that they were willing to trade their love of adventure for a sense of security. They’d had their fill of back-alley beatings and midnight escapes. Life in Carrebos might not be exciting-but excitement can sometimes mean death.”
The two strangers approached the booth and Senneth and Kirra both rose to show their respect for the older man. He looked to be in his mid-eighties, with thin white hair rather wildly styled and huge blue eyes that were cloudy with age. Brown spots dotted the wrinkled skin of his face and his mouth hung open as if he had found that was the most convenient way to breathe.
“Good afternoon, serras,” his companion said. The younger man might have been fifty, a little plump, a little weary, but his round face held a look of peace that Senneth instantly liked. “My uncle wanted to meet you. I hope you don’t mind.”