Green Rider (30 page)

Abram's quiet voice was sincere. "Fine," Karigan said, "but I won't put up with anything. You make a wrong move, and I can't promise you'll live through the night." She wasn't sure, but Abram might have been smiling. It was hard to tell with all his whiskers, but crinkles deepened beneath his eyes. She took his hand and allowed herself to be led into the cabin.

Assured that Karigan was comfortably propped on the bed, Abram Rust sat in the chair by the fire. The chair creaked as if it might fall to pieces under his weight, but it held. Abram's bulk crowded the cabin. Silence reigned as he gazed about speculatively, every movement deliberate, as if he thought it out before he did it, even the blinking of his eyes.

"This cabin does not change, but the Riders do." His bass voice startled Karigan. "Rarely do I see the same two Riders pass through here." His whiskers drooped.

"Why is that?"

"They move on to other routes or other jobs. Many die. I visit the cabin when a Rider is present to seek news. Often they tell me that a previous occupant has died in the line of duty."

Karigan could believe it. "How long have you been coming here?"

He chuckled—it was a low throaty sound. "Years beyond count, young one. I've been roaming these woods long before the Riders decided to put a waystation here. I've roamed these woods before Zachary became king, even before his grandmother ruled. I've seen seedlings grow into mighty trees, then burn to the ground only to start the cycle anew. Through all the changes I am still Forester. I protect my domain as well as I can, though ever more it is threatened."

"Threatened?" Karigan looked around the cabin as if brigands would break through the rough-hewn log walls.

"The mills. The need to clear land to farm and settle. The need to build fleets of ships to sail the seas; and the need to warm homes during our savage winters." Abram leaned toward her, his features earnest. "There is even a growing need for paper these days. Acres of forest around here have been toppled. So far, this has been outside my domain, but they do not replant and carve ever deeper into the forest."

"But surely your job is to cut trees." Karigan looked at his ax meaningfully.

"You are correct, but this is king's land. I'm the guardian of Zachary's forests here, as I have been for three generations of his family. I am selective in my cutting. A few white pines here for ship masts, a few cedars there for shingles, and I always replant. As other forest is laid waste, my ax is used more to defend the boundaries of my domain. The folk of North are ever pressuring King Zachary to open his lands to lumbering. Some attempt it without seeking permission."

"This North is a lumber town?"

"Mostly." Abram pulled out a pipe and tobacco pouch from his cloak. He stuffed the pipe with tobacco and drew a flame on some kindling from the fire and lit it. "It began as a small settlement about a hundred years back. But with all the demands for timber nowadays, the population swelled."

Abram blew smoke rings toward the ceiling, an amused twinkle in his eyes. When the rings dissipated, the twinkle faded. "North is a lawless town now. Most of the folk descended from the original settlers left, sold their claims. Some stayed to see what wealth they could make themselves. Others opened mercantiles and inns. The fur trade is growing, too, and now I must protect the creatures within my domain, as well as the trees."

"I've never heard of North." Or had she? Something the Berry sisters had said nagged at the back of her mind.

"This must be a new route for you," Abram said. "Or maybe you are just new."

Karigan grimaced. "I'm not really a Green Rider."

Abram stood up, his head brushing the rafters. His hand went to the haft of his ax. "How can this be?" His eyes glinted dangerously. He was like a rearing bear: bristling, wrathful, and immense. His presence overpowered the room.

Frightened by this sudden transformation, Karigan tried to fade out again, but pain lanced through her head. The effort was too much.

"Who are you?" Abram demanded. "You dress like a Green Rider and use Green Rider magic. Who are you?"

"I am Karigan G'ladheon. I'm finishing a mission for a dead Green Rider."

Abram looked at her askance, then let his hand drop from the ax to his side. "It sounds an interesting story. Tell me, and I will decide." He sat again, but rigidly, his eyes still suspicious.

Karigan started with her flight from Selium and finished with her arrival to the waystation. "I am not a Green Rider," she said, "but I'm helping one."

Abram's eyes softened considerably, and he relaxed in his chair. "A long journey you've had, a brave one. I met F'ryan Coblebay once. About two years ago he passed through my domain. A lively lad, very cheerful. I'm sorry to hear of his demise. I understand now, how I mistook you for a Rider. I did think you young, though I know they will accept young people."

"I must reach Sacor City before the Mirwellians find me again."

Abram muttered something under his breath—it sounded more like a growl—and tapped his fingers on the flat of the ax head. Smoke rings drifted to the rafters one after the other. "Strange things certainly have been happening. King's men have been in the region of late, hunting out groundmites, so I understand. But a breach in the D'Yer Wall? That bodes evil. Mornhavon the Black perverted the trees of Blackveil, and they've never recovered."

"So the Eletian told me."

Abram's eyes brightened. "I'd hand over my ax to meet an Eletian. I knew in my heart they weren't legend. A sylvan folk they are, dwellers of the Elt Wood, just as I'm a dweller of this forest. And to think they were wandering through Sacoridia's Green Cloak! It's an honor."

Karigan pulled the moonstone from her pocket, certain that Abram would like to see it. The shadows of evening vanished in silver light, bringing to mind dancers in a forest clearing and moonstones glimmering on evergreen boughs.

Abram's eyes opened wide. "What is it?"

"A moonstone. A real moonstone."

"Now that I thought a legend. The Eletians gave it to you?"

"Uh, no. The Berry sisters I told you about. They gave it to me." She explained the professor's predilection for magical artifacts.

"A most unusual hobby," Abram said.

Karigan didn't hear him. Whatever it was the sisters had said about North, it was nagging her again. And then, like a bright flash of sunlight, it came to her.
East by north
, they had said.
East by north
. Karigan sat up straight.

"What is it?" Abram asked.

"I told them I didn't know how to get to Sacor City, and they said to go east by North." She had a sudden urge to giggle. When they had first told her to go east by North, she had thought it pure nonsense.

"That would make sense." Abram puffed on his pipe as if she had said nothing unusual. "The road ends in North. To reach Sacor City, you must travel east, and then south. If you were traveling from Selium, you certainly went out of your way."

"The Horse refused to put one hoof on the Kingway."

"Yes, messenger horses are a strange breed. A trifle uncanny. They've more common sense than most."

"I need to get to Sacor City. I suppose that means going through North."

"Yes, but you best do so with utmost caution," Abram said. "As I said, North is lawless and wild, and these are strange times with strange folk traveling. Why, you've already met up with brigands. I avoid North, myself."

"What kind of strange folk?" Karigan wanted to know. "You can find brigands anywhere, even in Selium."

"There is a woman from Rhovanny, an exile, stirring up trouble. Wants to rid all the lands of monarchs and let the people rule." Abram stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Anarchy, I call it. Yet there are many who follow her and believe the rumors of new taxes on lumbering. Supposedly the taxes will go toward fortifying Sacor City and the royal house. Folks tied up in the paper and ship building trades are infuriated.

"Other rumors circulate. The king turned down a proposal to marry a princess of the Cloud Islands which would have fostered a profitable alliance. Now the queen of the Islands is insulted and may refuse to trade with Sacoridia altogether. The Cloud Islands bring fruit, spices, and whale oil.

"It is said that King Zachary still believes the old magic should be put into use again. Most folk believe that using magic will summon the evil of Mornhavon the Black. When you go to North, you must be quiet about the abilities of your brooch. The least magic will provoke suspicion."

"One can only hope these rumors are isolated—" Karigan knew they would not be, however. Her own father was suspicious of anything remotely related to magic.

"If rumors are to be believed, there have already been assassination attempts on King Zachary. Others are calling for his brother to take the throne."

Jendara's "rightful king" was Zachary's brother, she was sure, and would explain the swordmaster's devotion as a Weapon. But what did Mirwell have to do with it?

"North is not friendly to representatives of the king, or would-be representatives." Abram thrust the poker at the logs on the fire. A flurry of sparks shot up the chimney. "As I said, I won't go there myself. Already I've been accused of being a forestry regulator."

"Is there any way to go around North?"

Abram shook his head. "If you travel east or south from here, the River Terrygood lies in your path. At this time of the year, its current runs strong and deadly. Should you attempt to ford it, even your big horse would be swept away like a leaf in a whirlpool. At midsummer or later you might ford it, but not now. The only bridge is in North."

Karigan sagged against her pillow. "Is there any good news?"

"There is. I will lead you through the woods to a point on the North Road, not far from town. In the woods, I can ensure your safety."

Karigan nodded. "That sounds encouraging. What about town itself?"

Abram grimaced, or at least his whiskers drooped. "I will not go upon the road which is beyond my boundaries. You must travel the rest of the way yourself. You should reach town by evening, and will probably wish to stay the night. Not the best of circumstances, but I know of a respectable inn that caters to the few merchants who travel this way. It is called the Eallen Tree. It is costly, but worth it. Avoid all others. When you leave North, you will find on the other end of town there is a horse track leading east and then south. It will take you partway to Sacor City. The rest will be through open countryside."

Karigan tucked her knees up to her body and wrapped her arms around them. It was beginning to sound like she was nearing the end of her journey and she grinned. "Thank you, Abram. It won't be long now before I give King Zachary his message."

"Do not let your guard down, no matter how near the king's castle you are," Abram cautioned. "It would be easy to do so, with this as the last leg of your journey. Be watchful."

"I promise."

"Good…" Abram tapped his pipe against the fireplace. "Then on to more pleasant topics. You told me of your adventures, so now I will tell you some of my tales."

Abram spoke long into the night. His stories took shape slowly and deliberately, his voice low and melodious. He told stories of other Green Riders who had passed through his domain:

"Disaster seemed to follow young Mayer like a crow. The shelf would fall down when he placed a book on it, or he'd trip out the door. One night he accidentally kicked a bucket of ashes on the floor and nearly set the cabin on fire." Abram pointed to a charred spot on the floor near the fireplace. "Disaster helped him on one ride, however. He was in Afton Village, which is in Coutre Province, during market. He fell right off his horse onto a fruit stand. The woman tending it, the daughter of a wealthy farmer, married him. Mayer no longer carries messages on dangerous rides, but tends blueberry barrens on his own acreage."

Abram chuckled with the memory. "There was Leon, a fierce gambler by all accounts, who came from a questionable background before he joined the messenger service. He reformed many of his ways, but never the gaming spirit, and he used to sit with me before this very fire trying to swindle the last copper from me. More often than not he succeeded. Until the very last game.

"And there was Evony, Evony with her beautiful voice who should have been at Selium for music instead of wearing the colors of the Green Riders." He shook his head sadly. "She was killed by a noble angered by the message she bore."