“Now, what’s going on here? Why did you call me?”
So many parts to this tale. And the parts that would shock her most he wasn’t even going to share. “We were right. Amalie is a mystic. And so was her mother.”
Senneth took a deep breath. “How did you find out? Did she confide in you?”
“It gets much worse. So stay calm.”
“Just tell me.”
“Some young lord from Coravann is going to come calling next week, and he sent her a gift in advance. A moonstone necklace. She put it on and-”
“And it burned her skin? Bright Mother strike me blind. She’s going to be in all sorts of situations where people wearing moonstones will approach her and take her hand-”
“That’s not what happened,” he said quietly. “It burned me.”
She pulled her horse to a stop. “I don’t understand.”
“You remember that little lioness charm that Kirra carries around with her? I could take it in my hand and I could use it to pour some of my power into her. You remember that?”
Senneth was clearly bewildered. “Yes, but-”
“The moonstone is like that, I think. It can channel power. Or, more truly, it can steal power. Take it from a mystic and give it to whoever is wearing the charm.”
Now she was frowning. “But that can’t be true. I’ve been around plenty of people who were wearing moonstones and they didn’t seem to pull any power from me.”
“Well, you’re different anyway. You can wear a moonstone and it scarcely bothers you. But the real reason those people couldn’t pull power from you, I think, was because they weren’t mystics, too.”
“That makes even less sense! Kirra and Donnal can’t touch a moonstone, let alone use it to-”
Her voice trailed off. She was staring at him. He nodded. “It only works for a certain kind of mystic. A true Daughter of the Pale Mother.”
“Coralinda Gisseltess,” Senneth whispered.
“A thief mystic,” Cammon said. “Just like Amalie.”
“By all the forgotten gods.” She took a moment to absorb the information, turn it over in her mind, seek out the logical implications. She urged her horse forward again and Cammon rode beside her in silence while she worked it out. “Does Coralinda know she’s a mystic? Has this whole persecution been a sham?”
“Only she could tell us that. But I think she’s a sincere fanatic. You remember, I met her when we were in Coravann. She’s awfully powerful, so she could have been shielding, but I didn’t pick up anything from her but blazing righteousness.”
“Well, you didn’t pick up magic, either, so obviously you weren’t reading her entirely right.”
He gave her a hurt look. “It doesn’t read like other kinds of magic. It’s the opposite of magic.”
“Wait a minute,” Senneth said. “When we were in Coravann. You escorted Coralinda across the room. She took your arm. She was dripping with moonstones. And that didn’t bother you? That didn’t burn your skin?”
He shook his head. “No. But when she touched Kirra, Kirra was desperately in pain.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s easier for thief mystics to steal from some than from others. Maybe Amalie’s stronger than Coralinda and can pull power from farther away.” Maybe I am more attuned to Amalie and thus she finds it easier to rifle through the pockets of my soul.
“Oh, I don’t even want to think about what this means!” Senneth groaned. “It was too complicated before!”
He smiled briefly. “And it might be even more complicated.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “Why’s that?”
“I keep wondering. If the moonstones feed the energy of other mystics to Coralinda, why does she want them dead? That just eliminates her source of power.”
“But if she doesn’t realize she’s a mystic, she doesn’t understand what she’s doing to herself,” Senneth pointed out.
“I guess that could be the reason.”
“You have a different theory.”
“Well. She hates us so much. She believes so passionately that she’s right to hate us. I have to assume that every time a mystic dies, she feels an intense sense of satisfaction-a validation of what she’s done. A sense of well-being…”
He let his voice trail off as he watched understanding come to her face. Understanding and horror. “You think she feeds off death? That’s what boosts her power?”
“I think it’s possible. She might feed off of torture as well.”
“Bright Mother burn me,” Senneth said. “I think I’m going to be sick. And this is the power that Amalie carries? This dreadful kind of magic?”
“Don’t say that!” he cried.
Senneth looked surprised. “Well, I wouldn’t. Not to her. But-”
“She had that very thought herself, and she was so upset, but it’s not the same! Magic responds to the will of the man-Jerril taught me that, and I have to guess he taught you, too. Coralinda has chosen to twist and misuse her power, but Amalie won’t. Amalie will make something good and useful out of it. But not if people-especially other mystics, who ought to know better!-treat her like she’s corrupt and evil!”
Senneth’s eyes had widened at this impassioned defense. “Of course I don’t believe Amalie is evil. But to learn that the heir to the realm is another Daughter of the Pale Mother-Cammon, I have to admit that gives me pause. That gives me nightmares.”
“The Pale Mother is not evil, either,” he said stiffly.
“She rejoices when she sees mystics burned to death!”
He shook his head. “No. Coralinda does. Not the goddess.”
“You can’t possibly know that! You might be a powerful reader, but I don’t think you can scan the minds of the gods.”
“Ask Ellynor,” he said. “She knows more of the Silver Lady than any of us do. Except-well, you can’t ask Ellynor because Valri made me swear to tell no one about Amalie.”
“I’m glad you didn’t keep that promise!”
“I told her there was no way I could try to keep the secret from you. And that you wouldn’t keep it from Tayse, but that we would tell no one else. At least right now.”
Senneth sighed and slumped in her saddle. “And I thought the trip was the hard part. I thought life would get easier once I was back in Ghosenhall. Though I have bad news of my own.”
“I could tell something went wrong,” he said, “but I couldn’t tell what.”
“Old mystic from Carrebos. Couldn’t travel with us but he came in to show off his magic. He has some control over water, it appears. He said the ocean revealed to him that there is a fleet of ships gathering off the coast of Fortunalt. Sounded like warships, full of foreign soldiers.”
Cammon felt alarm register separately in his skull, his stomach, his elbows, and his knees. “Come to war on Gillengaria?”
“That’s what it looks like. Imported by our rebel southern Houses.”
“Then-why haven’t they landed and come to attack us?”
“Tayse says they’re waiting for spring.” She held a hand up as if to test for reprieve in the air. “And it’s not that far off. A month, maybe less, and this hard weather will be over.”
Cammon swallowed against a lump of fear. “Senneth-what do we do?”
She gave him a grim smile. “We prepare for war.”
CHAPTER 23
OVERNIGHT the city was transformed. Soldiers who had been in training in the more rural districts outside of Ghosenhall were brought in and deployed in a ring all around the city. Reserve soldiers, housed for months on property in Merrenstow and Storian, were sent for, and accommodations for them were hastily built on the outskirts of town. Shopkeepers and tavern owners suddenly had to truncate their hours of operation; residents were ordered to adhere to an early curfew. The number of night watchmen tripled, but they roamed streets that were practically empty.