“What is it Sennifyr thinks I should know?” Mirya murmured to herself. She frowned, trying to decide whether to answer or not. Finally she sighed, drew a warm hooded cloak around her shoulders, and hurried back out into the cold. A quarter-hour’s walk brought her around the foot of Griffonwatch and then up Hill Street toward the houses of the wealthy that dotted the higher slopes of Easthead. The houses were grand old places with gated drives and manicured gardens, although those were brown and bare with winter.
She found the house she was looking for, a fine mansion that stood amid wind-swept cedars. Before she could reconsider, she let herself in the wrought-iron gate, climbed the stone steps to the door, and gave the pull chain for the bell a deliberate tug. Chimes echoed inside. After a short time, she heard light footsteps approaching, and a young woman with long dark hair opened the door-the same attendant who’d greeted Mirya the last time she had called on Sennifyr. “The mistress is expecting you,” she said. “This way, if you please.”
Mirya followed the young woman to the mansion’s parlor, where she found Sennifyr reading a book by the fire. Sennifyr was a woman of forty-five years or so, but her face possessed an almost ageless serenity, and no gray touched her light brown hair, piled high above her head in an elegant coiffure. Sennifyr smiled and set down her book, rising smoothly to her feet. “Ah, Mirya, how good of you to come! I was afraid that you might not see the note Lana left in your house amid all the dreadful mess she found there. Tell me, are you all right?”
“I’m well enough,” Mirya replied. At Sennifyr’s gesture, she took the other seat by the fire as the young woman-Lana, or so Mirya supposed-stepped forward to take her hood.
Sennifyr returned to her seat, but she leaned forward, peering at Mirya. “Oh, by the Lady,” the noblewoman said, her hand rising to her mouth. “Mirya, your face! Why, they’ve beaten you black-and-blue!” She made several small tsking sounds, leaning across to gently caress Mirya’s cheek. Mirya steeled herself not to draw away; she did not intend to let Sennifyr see anything that might be taken as fear or weakness on her part. “I should tend to that!”
“It’s not so bad as it looks,” Mirya replied. “A few hours’ rest and I’ll be right as rain.”
“You must have been terrified, my dear. Tell me, what happened?” Sennifyr nodded to Lana; the young woman rolled a small teacart close, and began to arrange the cups and saucers.
Mirya suspected that Sennifyr already knew quite well what had happened, but she answered anyway. “The Council Guard stormed my house and dragged me out in the middle of the night,” she said. “I spent the rest of the night and most of the morning in the Council Hall’s dungeons. Edelmark questioned me about loyalist attacks of late, but he decided he lacked any reason to keep me imprisoned and set me free.”
“Indeed,” the noblewoman breathed. “That seems rather … generous of him.”
“I was surprised too,” Mirya said. Sennifyr simply studied her without saying anything. Mirya frowned, wondering what it was that Sennifyr thought she’d missed. An ugly suspicion dawned in her mind. “You believe that he had some other reason to let me go?”
Sennifyr smiled thinly. “Mirya, if I wanted to find out who was loyal and who was disloyal, I would certainly think about letting at least a few of my catches go and watching to see who they spoke with after I released them. I imagine it might be quite instructive.”
“I shouldn’t have come here,” Mirya murmured. “Now you’ll be under suspicion too.”
The noblewoman laughed softly. “Oh, I think I am safe enough. Unlike you, I have no suspicious activities to answer for and no special connection to House Hulmaster. You are my only flirtation with sedition, and I will of course be very careful to behave myself. But you, on the other hand, you are being watched very closely indeed. You must take great care not to bring suspicion to anyone who might in fact be involved with this show of resistance to Marstel’s reign.”
“How do you know this?” Mirya asked.
Sennifyr shrugged. “One of our Sisters is the mistress of a high-ranking officer in the Council Guard. She hears much of what Edelmark shares with his lieutenants. But even without her reports, I would have been suspicious of your release. For that matter, you must also be careful of any friends you have who are engaged in any … disloyal activities. They may also wonder why you were released, and they may come to their own conclusions.”
“What a fool I am,” Mirya growled at herself. Of course Edelmark wouldn’t have let her go simply because he lacked any proof of her wrongdoing. Lack of evidence hadn’t stopped him for months; a suspicion was all the captain of the Council Guard needed to have someone dragged off to the dungeons and kept there indefinitely.
“I have only your best interests at heart, Mirya. I was not about to let a sister-even one who has gone her own way for a time-walk unwittingly into Edelmark’s little trap.”
Mirya doubted very much whether that was Sennifyr’s only concern, but whatever the noblewoman’s motivation, she might very well have saved her from a very dangerous blunder. “I thank you, Mistress Sennifyr.”
Sennifyr inclined her head, and leaned back in her seat. “Have you any news of Geran Hulmaster? I confess that I am very curious as to what he might do next after that terrible business at the temple of Cyric.”
Now things become clear, Mirya reflected. Sennifyr hadn’t offered her help out of the goodness of her own heart; she knew well enough that Sennifyr didn’t have one. The Sharran hoped that Mirya knew something more than she did about the Hulmasters and their plans. “I’m afraid I haven’t,” she replied. “We spoke briefly before he and Sarth struck at the temple. Geran isn’t done fighting for Hulburg, and he means to challenge Marstel soon enough. But where he is now, I’ve no idea.”
The noblewoman studied her in silence. Then she carefully asked, “Would you like news of him? I will perform a divination for you if you wish. My own viewings are indistinct, but you are much more closely connected to Geran Hulmaster; I believe the results would be much more definitive for you.”
Mirya hesitated, weighing her decision. She feared to accept more of Sennifyr’s help, but on the other hand, she found that she was anxious to know whether Geran had escaped Hulburg or not. Marstel would have trumpeted the news from one end of town to the other if his soldiers had caught or killed Geran, but it was possible that Geran was in hiding and unable to leave now that the harmach’s forces were sweeping up loyalists. He could very well need assistance of some kind … “Very well,” she finally said. “I’m willing.”
Sennifyr nodded. She turned to the teacart, poured a cup, then drew a tiny vial from her sleeve and added a drop or two of a dark liquid to the tea. Murmuring the words of a spell, she carefully stirred the tea. Mirya sensed something taking shape in the darkened room, a stretching of the shadows or simply a dimming of the light; she’d never had much talent for magic herself. Then the noblewoman lifted the cup and offered it to Mirya. “Here, drink this. You will see for a short time.”