Mystic and Rider (Twelve Houses) by Sharon Shinn

them,” he said. “When they die, someone should be sad.”
    Who will mourn you? Senneth wanted to ask, but she thought that the answer to that question was probably what had prompted him to make the observation in the first place.
    Kirra leaned closer to the fire, tugging on the necklace she always wore. By firelight, it took on a muted gorgeousness, for it was a perfect, multifaceted ruby that loved nothing so much as light. “If I die on the road,” she said, “take off my pendant and send it to my father in Danalustrous. You’ll have to cut it off with metal, though, ’cause it’s welded on.”
    Justin looked over at her, ready to express scorn for the nobility once he had the full story. “You wear a necklace that’s been soldered on?”
    She nodded, staring into the flames. “Many of the women of the Twelve Houses do. Cut to just such a length, so they fall here”—she touched a point just above her breasts—“to cover up their housemarks.”
    Now both Riders were staring at her. “Their what?” Justin said. “Housemarks?”
    She nodded again. “Every time a legitimate child is born to one of the Twelve Houses, he or she is marked at birth with the insignia of the estate. Danalustrous is a small D. Very elegant. Gisseltess is a tiny flower. Merrenstow is a circle with a line through it, signifying—oh, something. I forget all the complicated symbols of heritage.”
    “Marked at birth—how, exactly?” Tayse asked.
    Kirra glanced over at him. “Branded. Burned into the skin.”
    “And you think I’m barbaric,” Justin said.
    She smiled a little. “I know. Isn’t it the strangest custom? I grew up with it, so it didn’t occur to me how horrifying the ritual was, till I saw a small girl undergo it. I cried for three days.”
    “So you’re branded at birth with the crest of your house,” Tayse said. “How come I’ve never seen any of the aristocracy with such a mark?”
    “Because we wear these pendants to cover them, of course. At least, the women do. It is considered the height of poor manners to move or dance in such a way that your necklet slips and your housemark is revealed in grand society.”
    “I’ll never understand rich folks,” Justin remarked.
    Now she looked at him through the flames. “No,” she said haughtily, “you probably never will.”
    Senneth was smiling till she caught Tayse’s eyes on her. “And you,” Tayse said. “If you die on the mission. How will we identify your body and to whom should we send the evidence?”
    She laughed. “Oh, I don’t wear anything so fancy,” she said, reaching a finger under her collar to pull out a golden chain. It was hung with a worn golden disk decorated with a thin circlet of filigree. “But I haven’t taken this off since it was given to me by my grandmother seventeen years ago.” She kept her voice light. “Upon the occasion of my father banishing me from his house because he didn’t care for witches. She said I should carry something with me that would always remind me someone loved me still. She’s dead now.” Leaving unsaid the corollary thought that there was no one alive who still loved her. “I suppose, if I’m slaughtered on the road, you should send this on to Malcolm Danalustrous as well. I’ve done some work for him, and he’s always been kind to me.”
    Donnal was grinning. “Well, then, send word of my death on to Danalustrous, too,” he said. “I suppose news of a chattel’s death might mean more to the marlord than it would to the chattel’s family.”
    “You’re not a chattel. You never were,” Kirra said sharply.
    Donnal leaned back on his arms. “Near enough as makes no difference when you grow up on Danalustrous land and Danalustrous charity,” he said, but he didn’t sound aggrieved. “But your father’s a grand old man. I’d work for him and fight for him even if I wasn’t born to it.”
    This was an old argument; none of them really needed to hear it again. “How about