It was a regrettable fact that the magic of Gillengaria mystics only operated in Gillengaria. None of them could pick up much information about people or objects that were not native to the country.
“Well, there were thirty horses, so if twenty of them were pulling carriages, ten were probably carrying riders,” Cammon said. He was surprised when the others all looked at him. “What?”
“You sensed that much even while you were so busy fencing with me?” Jerril asked softly. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have the energy.”
Cammon grinned. “Well, it was hard to miss. There was a lot of excitement.”
Areel returned to his food, but Jerril was still watching Cammon. “We might work on that next,” he said thoughtfully.
“Work on what?”
“Seeing if you can somehow begin to sense the presence and emotions of foreigners. That would be a valuable skill indeed.”
“Can you?”
“No. But I might be able to teach you how to figure it out.”
Cammon shook his head and helped himself to more vegetables. “I’ve always thought it was impossible. I saw Kirra try to change an object once-something that came from Sovenfeld. She couldn’t do it. And I bet Senneth can’t set something on fire if it comes from outside Gillengaria.”
Now Jerril was amused. “We’ll have to ask her that sometime.”
“Tomorrow, I suppose.” They all looked at him again. “What?”
“Senneth’s coming by tomorrow, is she?” Lynnette asked.
Cammon nodded. “Yes, but Tayse will stay behind.”
Areel was staring at him from under his wild white brows. “You can hear them having that conversation?” he demanded in his fierce voice. “Clear as if they’re standing here in the room? Or are you just-” He waved a crooked hand. “Prognosticating?”
“No…” How to explain it? Cammon glanced at Jerril, but even the other mystic looked baffled. “I can feel her intention. She thought of me. She was making plans.” He was a little nervous. Truly, this was a skill neither Jerril nor Lynnette possessed? “I can’t do that with everybody. Mostly Senneth. Sometimes Justin. It’s impossible to guess what Kirra will do next, because even if she’s thinking about one thing, she’s just as likely to do something else with no warning at all.”
“A most excellent ability to have,” Jerril said gravely, but Cammon had the feeling he was hiding laughter or astonishment or both. “Will she be here for dinner? We can have something special ready for the table.”
IN fact, the next night Senneth arrived a few minutes before the evening meal, complaining about the winter. “A fire mystic should not have to care about weather,” Jerril said, taking her in an embrace. She was as tall as he was and her white-blond hair rested for a moment against the smooth skin of his skull.
She laughed. “The cold doesn’t bother me, but the snow! The wet! The misery! My boots are covered with mud and my trousers are damp, and I feel most ill-tempered.”
“Areel and Jerril cooked for you all day, so that should cheer you up,” Lynnette said, offering her own hug. “Areel chased me out of the kitchen, in fact, so I don’t know what he’s fixing now.”
Senneth came close enough to cuff Cammon on the shoulder. “I suppose you’re the one who told them I was on the way,” she said. “Someday I’d like to take you by surprise. Is that ever going to happen?”
He grinned. “Somebody might surprise me someday, but I don’t think it will be you.”
“I’m coming back for lessons,” she said to Jerril. “You’ll have to teach me how to keep this boy out of my thoughts. I know you can do it.”
“I can keep him out of my thoughts, but I don’t know if you’re strong enough to shield from him,” Jerril said. “You have many gifts, of course, but I don’t believe you’re that good.”
Everybody laughed, because Senneth could do anything. “That’s why I need the lessons!”
Areel called them in for the meal and, after he kissed Senneth on the cheek, they all settled around the table. The food was good, the conversation was lively, and Cammon felt that particular glow of contentment he always felt when surrounded by people he liked. The more friends gathered in one room, the happier he was. It was as if his own well-being was magnified by everybody else’s, as if he added their joy to his own. Some of this, he knew, came from his magic; he absorbed emotions as others absorbed sunlight.
Some of it came from spending so much time divorced from anyone who loved him that he craved that time now like others craved air.
When the meal was finished, Lynnette was the first to stand up. “Senneth, you and Cammon go talk in Areel’s study,” she said. “The men and I will clean up, and we’ll have dessert when you’re done.”
Senneth was grinning. “And here I was thinking, ‘How shall I tell them I want a private audience with Cam?’ I suppose you never have to explain things to a reader.”
“Don’t touch either of the books open on my desk,” Areel ordered.
Senneth and Cammon headed for the door. “Now you’ll have to set them both on fire,” he said, and they laughed as they escaped up the stairs.
Areel’s study was a cramped, crowded, mysterious place. Small-scale models of houses, carriages, ships, contraptions, and impossible inventions littered the floor, hung from the ceiling, were sketched on diagrams pinned to the wall. Senneth and Cammon gingerly picked their way through the mess, found two chairs that could be cleared of debris relatively easily, and settled in. Senneth glanced at the bare grate and a fire sprang up, full of yellow, excitable flames. The room instantly warmed by ten degrees.
“So why have I come here tonight?” she asked, leaning back against the tattered fabric. “Since you seem to know everything.”
He grinned. “I don’t. Just that you were coming.” He thought a moment. “Because the king asked you to?”
“Why do I even bother?” she demanded. “Why don’t I just let you figure it all out for yourself?”
“It goes faster if you tell me,” he laughed. “But did King Baryn really ask about me?”
She relaxed more deeply into the chair. She seemed tired. “Not about you so much as…Here’s the story: He’s decided he should find a husband for Princess Amalie.”
Cammon spared a moment to think of that thin, calm, curious girl with the amazing red-gold hair. “Does Amalie want to be married?”
Senneth smiled. “I’m not sure that’s the point.”
“It might be to Amalie.”
“Hush. Listen. Amalie’s nineteen now, and all anyone in Gillengaria can think of is what kind of queen she will make and whether she will be fertile and bear heirs. So Baryn thinks that if he weds her off now, perhaps this will stop some of the plotting among the marlords of the Twelve Houses. Pick the right man, one who pleases all the marlords, have her produce a son or a daughter while Baryn is still alive-this might keep peace among the Houses.”
Cammon was still thinking of Amalie. “Yes, but if she doesn’t want to be married-”
“Princesses don’t marry for love,” Senneth said. “They marry for political alliances. They marry coastlines and trade routes and standing armies. Amalie knows this.”
“You got to marry for love,” he argued. “And serramarra are supposed to marry coastlines and all that, too. But you’re a serramarra and you married a King’s Rider-”
Senneth was laughing again. True, she was a serramarra-the daughter of a marlord-but she was hardly the most respectable example of the aristocracy. “Well, I’m different,” she said. “I’m a mystic, and the fate of Gillengaria does not depend upon my bloodlines. But Amalie will be queen-if we can keep her alive-and a great deal depends on her heirs. Therefore-”