Standing next to her sister, Kirra carefully turned her head, searching the crowd for Senneth; her eyes asked a question. Senneth lifted her hands in a gesture that signified ignorance. But the black-tailed songbird had taken wing. He fluttered out the archway and disappeared.
“Something’s happening,” Senneth breathed to Tayse.
He nodded and put his hand surreptitiously to his sword. Most of the men present had buckled on dress swords, if they bothered with weapons at all, but Tayse, as always, was armed as if he might have to go into combat at any moment.
No one else seemed to realize there might be trouble. Even Kiernan looked stolid and just a little bored, his arms crossed on his broad chest, his eyes fixed on his brother while his mind probably was busy calculating tax rates or land yields. The cleric, who was now deep in some kind of homily, continued speaking in a deep and solemn voice.
It was less than ten minutes before Donnal returned, arrowing in through the doorway and straight to Kirra. He landed on her shoulder, which caused one or two people in the audience to murmur and laugh, but Senneth knew he did not have Cammon’s ability to put his thoughts directly into someone’s head. As unobtrusively as possible, Kirra stepped away from the bridal party, the bird still on her shoulder, and ducked into a doorway leading to a servant’s hall.
This Kiernan noticed. He unfolded his arms and gave Malcolm an inquiring look. And when, a minute later, Kirra hurried back in and headed straight for her father, Kiernan took five long steps over to join her. They stood there briefly, conferring, while the crowd began to mutter and the magistrate’s sonorous voice stuttered to a halt.
“Marlord, is there a problem?” the cleric asked.
Malcolm spoke up calmly. “Finish the ceremony.”
“What’s wrong?” Will asked Casserah.
Malcolm’s voice was a little louder. “Finish the ceremony. Bind them in marriage. Perhaps finish it more quickly than you planned.”
Will appealed to Kiernan, who was still standing beside Malcolm. “What’s wrong?”
At that moment, Senneth heard the thrumming sound of hundreds of booted feet, as if all of Malcolm’s house guards had suddenly been called to formation. They must be outside and some distance away, but there were enough of them that the noise carried. Even farther away there was the silver call of a bugle and a man’s voice raised in what was clearly an order to march out.
“Danan Hall is under siege,” Malcolm said coolly. “Finalize the wedding. Let them speak their vows.”
Now the crowd was alive with agitation, and a few people fled for the door. But Kiernan and Malcolm stood fast, both of them watching the cleric, and Casserah took Will’s hand.
“Yes,” she said, serene as ever. “Finish this.”
“Then-then-” the magistrate stammered, leafing through his book to the final pages. He looked quite pale, and his deep voice was suddenly breathy. “Bound together in friendship, bound together before witnesses, bound together in marriage,” he rattled off. “From this day forward, you will be known to all as husband and wife.”
“That’s done, then,” Kiernan said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, and the whole crowd fell apart.
Kirra spun on one heel, lifted her arms above her head, and collected herself into a dark winged shape. Flinging herself into the air, she skimmed over the heads of the visitors and ducked out the great door. She barely beat Tayse, who had sprinted for the threshold the instant the magistrate’s last words had sounded. Senneth turned to follow but got caught up in the milling crowd. People were crying, reaching out to grab each other, calling out questions, edging for the door, edging back.
Malcolm strode through the mob, Kiernan close at his heels, then turned at the door to address his guests. “You are probably safest if you stay here,” he said. “Those with weapons who wish to use them are welcome to join the defense.” And he disappeared out the door.
A hand caught Senneth’s arm; she turned to find Will and Casserah beside her. “Will you stay or will you fight?” Casserah asked. Senneth was impressed at her iron control. She clearly realized the situation was dangerous but was not about to melt into a puddle of fear.
“Fight,” Senneth said, “though I’m hardly dressed for it.”
“I have a sword in my room,” Will said.
Senneth shook her head. “No. You and Casserah stay here. The point of this whole day was to unite Danalustrous and Brassenthwaite. It’s why Malcolm wanted the ceremony concluded. The two of you must be safe no matter who else falls.”
Will glanced at his new bride. “Do you have any idea who would attack? Has Halchon Gisseltess decided to open his war on Danan Hall?”
Casserah shook her head. “No one crossed the borders. This is local trouble.”
Senneth’s eyes narrowed. So Casserah, like her father, could sense when the boundaries of the land were breached. “Who would wish you so ill on your wedding day?”
“I’m only guessing. But I suspect Thirteenth House lords who have been dissatisfied with the distribution of property.” She thought a moment. “There is one young lord in particular who dislikes me. Chalfrey Mallon. He would be especially glad to see me wounded on what should be my happiest day.”
Senneth felt rage race through her; her temperature was rising, dangerously high. “Cruel and stupid,” she said in a harsh voice. “To try to bring pain where there should be joy.”
“He is cruel and stupid,” Casserah agreed. “And so we have death instead.”
Senneth stalked toward the door, her dark blue dress swirling around her ankles. “Well, Danalustrous and Brassenthwaite defend their own.”
As soon as she was in the hallway, she started running, following the scurry of servants, the sounds of combat. Casserah was right. No foreign force could have gotten this close to the Hall without Malcolm being aware of it. Whoever these invaders were, they had come cloaked in Danalustrous colors. How many troops could such malcontents have raised? Enough to overrun Malcolm’s personal guard?
She burst through the front door and came upon a melee. It was almost impossible to tell who was fighting on what side, since the majority of the combatants were wearing red. But the invaders were on horseback and the defenders mostly on foot, a bad matchup for the Hall. There were terrible sounds of shouting men, screaming horses, clashing blades. She could see Tayse off to her right, unexpectedly mounted-he must have wrenched a horse from one of the assailants. He laid about him with a furious and brutal efficiency, cutting a swath through the oncoming soldiers. A phalanx of soldiers in blue and red waded behind him, emboldened by his charge, dispatching enemies with a righteous fervor.
But there. Near the garden. A line of invaders was weaving through the ornamental hedges, creeping toward the manor as if to slip in the back way and wreak havoc in the halls. Two civil guardsmen spotted them and let out yells as they ran to engage them, but there were already twenty enemies almost at the house.
Senneth flung a hand out, and the whole maze of hedges burst into flames. Two invaders cried out in pain, saw their trousers catch fire, and dropped to the ground. A dozen of their companions broke free of the sizzling shrubbery and headed toward the house at a dead run. Another eight or ten backed up, away from the flames, away from the battle, and watched indecisively.
Senneth snapped her wrist. The first of the oncoming soldiers ignited and screamed in agony. She splayed her hand again and two more men started blazing. Again. Again. Mad with pain and terror, the enemy fighters shrieked and flung themselves to the ground, rolling on the brown grass. The soldiers who had held back now turned on their heels and sped away.
Senneth felt the heat licking through her veins; her eyes were misted with a fine red. She might have been on fire herself, or perhaps it was just fury that consumed her. She swung her attention back to the main fray and ran forward to cast herself into the middle of it, heedless of swinging blades and trampling horses. Who was loyal, who traitorous? When she was sure, she placed her torrid hand on a soldier’s arm, on his back, and heard him scream as his clothes caught fire. Ten men burned as she darted through the grunting, battling squads. Twenty. Thirty.