“Aristocratic family, I hear, and her parents none too happy she’s been called. She’s riding old Graft like a stick of firewood. Thinks she’s too good for us and our old cav horses. No doubt her poppy provided her with all sorts of hotbloods to ride around on at home.”
Karigan gave him a sidelong look. She’d had access to numerous fine horses in her father’s stables herself as she grew up, and so she thought his opinion of Sophina unfair. However, she refrained from mentioning this fact to Elgin or reminding him of her own father’s wealth.
“Does Graft look happy to you with Sophina riding him?” he asked.
Karigan had to admit he did not. His was a plodding sort of canter, and he chomped on his bit in discontent; it was true Sophina looked like she would be much happier in a sidesaddle on some fine hunter riding with others of her own class.
“Wait till Riggs puts them in mounted combat training,” Elgin said with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Then Sophina will learn something, and I hope she does. I hope they all do because it’ll mean their survival.”
He was right, Karigan reflected. Riders rode in all conditions and under many circumstances. Fighting from horseback would be a whole new discipline for the young Riders to learn as it had been for her. All of her training with Arms Master Drent was fine and good. Dismounted. Wielding a sword from atop a horse required an entirely different set of skills.
“We want them to come back,” Elgin murmured. “We always want that.”
Elgin suddenly seemed to no longer see the Riders in front of him. Karigan thought he must be thinking of those in the past. She knew little of his history, but wondered what Riders he had lost. She observed him closely, saw a muscle jump in his cheek and the subtle tightening of his weathered features.
“Command is never easy.” His voice was so soft Karigan thought he spoke more to himself. “Give an order, never know if they’ll make it back.”
Karigan thought to ask questions, to gently delve into his past, but a Green Foot runner approached at that moment with a summons from Captain Mapstone. She bade Elgin good-bye, and minutes later when she reached officers quarters, the captain opened the door and ushered her in.
The captain’s chamber served both as both her living quarters and her office and was on the whole spare of personal adornment. However, books, ledgers, and other records crammed shelves, and a barrel full of maps was tucked into a corner. Her worktable was strewn with papers and a few mugs filled with the dregs of old tea. The light was dim, for like the castle itself, officers quarters were built of stone with only arrow slits allowing outside light in. The captain, Karigan knew, did not spend a great deal of time here, for she was often in the castle attending the king and sitting in on meetings.
“Have a seat, Karigan,” the captain said, then proceeded to scratch away on a paper with her pen, seemingly oblivious to her Rider’s presence.
Karigan sat in a chair before the worktable, awaiting her captain’s pleasure and wondering why she’d been summoned. Perhaps she’d be sent on an errand after all, though it was usually Mara who passed on those orders. Maybe the captain wanted to discuss her progress on the ledgers and payroll. Whatever it was, she did not mind the diversion.
The captain scribbled on for some moments, her expression intense. In the dim light, it appeared to Karigan that there was a little more white mixed in the captain’s red hair than she remembered, a few more careworn lines along her eyes. However, when finally the captain set her pen aside and looked up at Karigan, her hazel eyes were as lively as ever.
“Deadlines,” the captain said, by way of explanation, and she sprinkled sand on wet ink. She folded her hands together atop the worktable and gazed steadily at Karigan for some moments. “How goes your work with the accounts?”
Karigan described her struggles, but she wasn’t sure the captain was hearing everything she said, though she made affirmative noises at the appropriate moments.
When she finished, the captain said, “We need to find someone else who can assist with accounts, and take over when you are on an errand. Mara is an excellent Chief Rider, but dealing with accounts is not one of her strengths. I’ll have Elgin keep an eye out for someone who might do, and then you can train him or her up to your standards.”
“That would be helpful, I guess,” Karigan said. As much as she disliked taking care of Rider accounts, she feared that adding another person into the process would only muddle things up all the more.
When she noticed the captain still gazing at her with an intense look on her face, Karigan surmised the summons was not actually about Rider accounts at all.
The captain abruptly stood, rounded the table, and leaned against its edge with arms folded. Again there was the scrutiny, as if she were trying to see into Karigan’s soul and make up her mind about something. Karigan shifted in her chair. She hadn’t been concerned by Captain Mapstone’s summons when she came to officers quarters, but now she was beginning to worry.
“I wish to discuss an errand with you,” the captain said. “One that will be, for the moment, between you and me. I request that you do not speak of it to anyone else.”
“Of course,” Karigan said.
The captain nodded, then said, “There is no easy way to broach this other than to just say it. Karigan, I need to send you into Blackveil.”
It was as though a crater opened beneath Karigan and she fell, the world rushing past her, the weight of dread speeding her on.
ON THE ROOF
Karigan blanched, but she said nothing, issued no protest, did not request Laren to reconsider. Laren did not know how anyone was supposed to react to the news that they were being sent into Blackveil Forest, but she certainly did not expect Karigan’s stillness.
Laren had deemed it necessary to speak to Karigan of this now. The king’s other advisors were pressuring her to officially name the Riders she’d be sending into Blackveil, and she thought if she put the mission before Karigan privately, and persuaded her that she was the best Rider for the job, Karigan might champion her inclusion herself, perhaps making Zachary less likely to object. But then, love was unpredictable and powerful and he still might overrule everyone and forbid Karigan’s participation.
In the face of her Rider’s quiescence, Laren could only keep talking. “As you’ve likely heard, the Eletians desire to cross over into Blackveil Forest.”
Karigan nodded.
“The king is determined that they not go without being accompanied by Sacoridians. We do not fully trust them, and we have as much interest in seeing what is on the other side of the wall as the Eletians. The king wishes Riders to be among those who go with them. You are one of my most experienced Riders, and you have already been in Blackveil and survived.”
“I was not myself then ...” Karigan passed her hand over her eyes.
It was an understatement, Laren knew. Karigan had been possessed in turn by Mornhavon the Black and the spirit of the First Rider.
Karigan shuddered. “He was ... he knew everything about me.”
Mornhavon, she meant. Laren could not guess what it was like to have someone control your actions while you were a spectator in your own body. How much of Karigan’s mind had he had access to? What an incredible violation it must have been, and it was only then Laren realized what she was asking of Karigan. Yes, Mornhavon might be gone from Blackveil for now, thanks to Karigan’s own intervention, but what if he reappeared while the company of Eletians and Sacoridians were still there?
It did not matter. Karigan was still the best choice, and Laren was her commander. She could not afford to change her mind based on personal considerations. Karigan would go as ordered. It was her duty.
In case there was some hesitation on Karigan’s part, she said, “I know we have asked much of you in the past and you have endured more than any Rider I can think of. If you tell me now not to send you, I will pick someone else. But frankly, I can think of no other Rider who has a better chance of returning alive from Blackveil.
” The implication being that any other Rider going in her place would not return, and the onus would be on Karigan.
Karigan looked down at her knees as that implication sank in. “I will go, of course.”
Laren nodded. She found the manipulation distasteful, but she had only spoken the truth. “There may be answers to be found that will help us deal with Blackveil, with Mornhavon. And of course, we need to know why the Eletians are so bent on exploring Blackveil. We think they are drawn more by the desire to see what has become of Argenthyne.”
Karigan continued to remain still, but upon mentioning the ancient, lost land of the Eletians, Laren saw something flicker in her eyes, that fathomless quality she’d seen before. Mysteries, a timelessness. There was a distance to her as though she already walked in that dark country. And then just as quickly it faded.
“Who else?” Karigan asked.
“What?”
“You said Riders, not Rider. Who else are you sending?”
“I’ve not made any final decisions as of yet.” And she hadn’t. It was not easy deciding which of her Riders to commit to such a dangerous mission. “Have you any suggestions?”
Karigan shook her head. “When?”
“You are to be at the wall by the equinox. The Eletians were very clear they wanted the days to be turning longer than the nights when they entered the forest.”
Karigan gazed out the arrow slit. Pale light fell across her face and glinted off her hair. Her silence unsettled Laren. It would be easier if Karigan had argued, shouted, thrown her chair across the room ... anything.
“Do you have any more questions for me?” Laren asked.
Karigan shook her head and the light shimmered down her hair.
Laren’s heart sank at what she believed was resignation on Karigan’s part. “If you think of any questions or you just want to talk about this, do come see me.”
When her ploy to elicit some response from Karigan failed, Laren excused her. After the door closed behind Karigan, Laren stood still for some moments feeling regret. She knew she would feel even more regret when she finally decided which other Riders would accompany Karigan into the forest. She must consider the experience and magical ability of each Rider and decide who would be most useful on the expedition, as well as who would be most likely to survive. She sighed, and rounded her desk to resume work, but found she could not concentrate.
Instead, she decided to seek out Zachary. They needed to talk about Karigan some more now that she had expressed acceptance of the mission. Laren set off from her quarters, thinking she would check with Cummings, Zachary’s secretary, to find out his availability. She was certain this would be another difficult confrontation. Zachary had cooled toward her after their last conversation about Karigan, and she could only guess this would not improve their rapport.
According to Cummings, Zachary’s schedule was clear for the afternoon. That meant he could be almost anywhere doing almost anything. It took Laren a long while to track him down, and when she did find him, it was in a place she hadn’t been since summer. When she passed through the heavy door and stepped out onto the castle rooftop, she squinted in the glare of the sun and shivered. During the summer the roof was pleasant. Now? She did not envy the soldiers who stood watch up here every day throughout the winter. Of course, they were dressed for it and she had only her shortcoat for warmth.
A soldier greeted her and pointed the way to the king. She crossed the roof, which was a warren of guard towers and, at this time of year, warming huts. Soldiers paced the battlements and looked out on the vista of Sacoridia searching for anything that might threaten the king and his realm.
She crossed a footbridge that spanned a wide gutter, melt water rushing through it beneath a crust of ice. She found Zachary leaning against a crenel gazing southward into the city. Donal kept watch several paces away. From this height, the buildings, people, and animals of the city looked to her like a princely toy set.
She joined him, angling into the lee of a crenel to shield herself from the wind, while allowing the sun to warm her. Zachary wore a fur-lined cloak and did not appear bothered by the cold in the least.
“What do you see?” she asked him.
If he was surprised by her arrival, he did not show it. “I see a busy and prosperous city laid out before me. Earlier a formation of geese flew north overhead, while a winter owl perched among the trees.” He paused, and with a faraway look in his eyes, added, “And not long ago, I saw a Green Rider ride off castle grounds. It was Karigan.” He produced his spyglass as if to prove he was not mistaken.
After the enormity of what Laren had told Karigan, she was not surprised the young woman had gone for a ride. Most Riders found solace in the companionship of their horses. Many was the time when Laren herself had sought out Bluebird for much needed comfort.
Zachary had provided the opening Laren needed. She said, “Speaking of Karigan, I thought you’d want to know she has accepted the mission to go into Blackveil.”
Laren thought it was perhaps more accurate to say she’d manipulated Karigan into accepting the mission, but another part of her truly believed that given a choice, Karigan would have volunteered to go anyway. She was like that, always wanting to take responsibility for the big problems. Or maybe Laren was just trying to justify her actions to herself.
There was no outburst of condemnation from Zachary. He just continued to gaze out at the city. Ever since he was a small boy, he’d been so serious and learned to rein in his emotions. He was under constant scrutiny from all quarters, and exposing his true feelings could compromise his authority, make him vulnerable to attack from his political enemies. Once in a while, as in their last conversation about Karigan, his emotions surfaced, but it was a rare occurrence.
When, she wondered, did he ever have a chance to follow his passions, to expose himself? How could he contain it all within himself? Weapons practice and the occasional hunt in the countryside no doubt helped, but surely these were not enough.
When was the last time he’d had a woman with whom to relieve his male urges? There were elegant courtesans in the city, accepted and patronized by members of the nobility, who could provide such a service. An outlet of this sort might help him in many ways, not least of which would be by diverting his thoughts from Karigan. Yes, she would certainly make some careful inquiries.
“I knew,” Zachary said, “she would not refuse. It would not be like her to do so.”
“Are you going to intervene?”
He did not answer for a long while. The breeze ruffled his hair and Laren tensed as she waited.
“I know the reasons why you chose her,” he said finally, “and understand them. Yes, all the reasons. When I separate my head from my heart, I understand. My heart, however, does not want it.” He rubbed his chin, his gaze toward the clouds. “Yet I am a king who must govern more with his head, and less with his heart.”
Laren’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I thought you would come to see the sense of it.”
“Do not mistake me,” he said. “I will not intervene, but it does not please me.”
“Of course it does not. It does not please me to have send any of my Riders.”
“Then I suppose,” he sharply replied, “I should blame myself that Karigan is going into Blackveil. After all, it is I who made the decision that Riders should be part of the expedition.”
Laren did not dare respond. There was no good answer.
“You censure me with your silence.”
“No. I don’t—”
“It is true,” he interrupted, “that it does all come back to me. I know that as the dangers to our land increase with Birch to our north and the uncertainty of Mornhavon to our south that I will have many difficult decisions ahead that will result in the sacrifices of many, including those I hold dear.”
Laren sighed. How could she have ever doubted him?
“There are times,” he continued, “that I wonder how my life would have been if I were
born to a fisherman or a farmer, instead of a king.”
“Sacoridia would have been poorer for it,” Laren replied.
“It’s impossible to say. But I should have liked being a farmer. I’d have been a good one, I think.”
It was not difficult for Laren to imagine him on a saltwater farm in Hillander growing crops and raising cattle. Perhaps he found the idea of it alluring because it would not only save him from the critical decisions he must make to safeguard the realm, but because it would also allow him to be with the woman of his choosing.
“You are a good king,” Laren said firmly. “We need you.”
“Perhaps there will be a day when Sacoridia has no need of kings and queens.”
“What? That’s nonsense! That’s rhetoric straight from the mouths of those mad anti-monarchists that used to pass out pamphlets before the castle gates. What would we have without our monarch? Chaos, that’s what.”
“Not chaos, but some other way of governing ourselves. Our current system works if we have, as you say, a ‘good king,’ but what about those who follow me? History has shown that the throne has often represented tyranny.”
Laren gazed hard at Zachary. He’d always been a deep thinker, but she’d never heard this line of radical thought from him before. He’d always been so sure of his place and the role of the monarchy. She hoped no one else heard him talking like this.
All she was certain of was that he was a fine king who put his country before himself. With serious danger threatening the land, they needed him more than ever.
PATHS
Karigan did not return to the Rider wing to work on accounts. How could she after what the captain had told her? She headed instead to the stables, barely acknowledging the others now done with their riding lesson and untacking their horses. She saddled up Condor and rode off castle grounds in a daze, unaware of the winter owl gazing at her from the limb of a towering pine, and not knowing that her king observed her from the castle roof.
Blackveil: Book Four of Green Rider Page 18