Green Rider (35 page)

I don't even want to think about it. I've got enough problems to last nine lives of a cat
.

Karigan stretched and yawned. The wine and food had made her somnolent, and the sooner to bed, the sooner to rise and leave North behind. As she strode across the common room, the minstrel's eyes followed her without his missing a note of the song he sang. She scowled at him, then realized that several of the men in the common room, many lumberjacks by the look of their wool shirts and broad shoulders, followed her with their eyes, too.

The servant met her at the bottom of the stairs. "Don't concern yourself with these lugs, missy. Innkeeper Wiles keeps order here, though he can't keep the men from looking." She rolled her eyes knowingly. "This is a respectable inn. If they want the company of a… woman, there are plenty of other inns in town where they can find it."

"Thanks," Karigan said. She wondered how the innkeeper enforced order in such a rough town, but was glad to hear that he did so one way or the other.

Once in her room, she changed into the oversized Green Rider shirt to wear to bed. She sank into the comfortable feather mattress anticipating a restful night, but discovered she could only toss and turn. Voices and the clatter of dishware disturbed her some, but it was the events of the day that jostled around in her mind and kept her awake.

In the small hours, when the music and chatter in the common room died down, sleep began to take her, but she suddenly jolted awake, quivering. The hairs on her arms stood on end, and her heart beat wildly, but she didn't know what had roused her. Then there it was, faint, barely perceived footfalls in the corridor outside her room. A worn floorboard creaked.

A shadow darkened the crack between the door and floor, then passed over the keyhole. The doorknob twisted one way, then the other. Karigan held her breath, stiffened, listening, afraid to move. Her sword was on the other side of the room with the brooch.

A sharp light pierced through the keyhole, searching, probing.

Karigan sat up and threw the covers aside. The cold night spread goosepimples across her body as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She tiptoed across the icy floor, took up her saber, and waited by the door.

Strangely, the door seemed to flex and swim in her eyes. She blinked, but the door still distorted and warped in fluid motions, and she felt with a creeping certainty that it wasn't her own groggy vision that warped the door, but magic. She reached for her brooch unconsciously, and discovered it was warm to her touch. The door would give in moments, and with growing apprehension, she knew it was the Shadow Man, the rider in gray, who intended to enter her room.

The shaft of light probing through the keyhole suddenly withdrew, but before Karigan could breathe a sigh of relief, something else came through. At first it was so dark and tiny, as tiny as a fly, she could not see it, but it was even darker than the night, a small black orb that floated on the air, and her eyes fixed on it. The orb bobbed and drifted toward her, expanding as it did so.

It was oily black and radiated a halo of darkness that pushed away even the possibility of light. The orb continued to grow. Tendrils of energy flared and arched across its surface, searing and scorching. Karigan backed away, but the thing, now the size of her head, moved with her. Karigan backed until she was pressed up against the wall and could go no farther, and still it moved toward her.

Then heavy footsteps clumped outside. "Who's there?" a man asked.

The door hardened into ordinary, solid pine wood again. The orb halted, wavered uncertainly, then shrank in the blink of an eye and whisked out through the keyhole. Feet padded lightly away and Karigan closed her eyes in relief. Moments later someone tapped on her door. Holding the saber level before her, she opened the door carefully. To her surprise, the minstrel stood there, his lute in one hand and a glowing oil lamp in the other.

"May I come in?" he whispered. His face looked gaunt in the flickering light. "If the innkeeper or his guard Tarone find me here, I shall be skinned where I stand."

"Why should I allow you in my room?" Karigan demanded none too quietly.

The minstrel peered about nervously. "You are wise in your caution considering someone was trying to break into your room just now. I think I frightened him off, a stealthy fellow. You've nothing to fear from me. I am but a minstrel and carry nothing in the way of arms… my lute would be a clumsy weapon against your blade."

"Some minstrels are trained in the fighting arts."

"True. Especially if they were trained in Selium as I was. But I never took up a sword."

"Selium?"

"Yes. I believe that is where you've come from, too."

Karigan's mouth gaped open. She stepped aside for the minstrel to enter. She shut the door behind him, but didn't sheathe her sword.

The minstrel glanced around the room as if something might leap out of the shadows at any moment. "I am Gowen, a master of my craft. I would have sought you out sooner, but if I didn't perform as usual, someone might have gotten suspicious." What a master minstrel might be doing in a wilderness town like North, he didn't say. Without hesitation he sat on her bed. It was the only place to sit.

"What do you want?" Karigan asked. "How do you know I've traveled from Selium?"

"A Green Rider was looking for you the other day. At least, you answer her description. When she saw I was Sel-ium trained— " he pointed to the gold master's knot on his shoulder, "—she knew she could trust me, and she knew that a master minstrel wouldn't have been placed here by mistake."

Karigan would have liked to have known what he meant by that. "I know a Green Rider was looking for me, or somebody who looked like me."

"You missed her by about a day."

"She's dead. I saw her body in a horse cart."

Gowen shook his head, bewildered. "I never thought the townsfolk would go so far as to actually kill someone from the king. Joy hadn't been a Rider long."

Karigan sat cross-legged on the floor, and rested her chin on her hands. "I'm not sure it was the townsfolk who killed her."

Gowen cocked his head, his eyes searching hers. Minstrels certainly possessed penetrating eyes. "What is it you know?"

"All I know is that others, including another Green Rider, were murdered in the same manner. Two black arrows with red fletching."

"Strange. Strange things are brewing. Poor Joy was searching for you, or your twin, but you weren't her primary concern. A messenger horse was."

"She didn't say why on either count, did she?" It was too much of a coincidence.

"No. But, young lady, of greater concern are the others who were looking for one who also matched your description. Their description wasn't as detailed as Joy's, but good enough to make a match."

Karigan bit her bottom lip. She didn't want to ask, but she did anyway. "Were they Mirwellian?"

"I see you know you're being pursued. They were here a few days ago. I'm not sure where they went after North, but they were in a hurry. I thought nothing of it till Joy described you. She didn't tell me, though, that you were a Green Rider."

"I'm not."

The minstrel blinked, his only hint of surprise. "You wear Rider insignia."

Karigan had forgotten about the winged horse embroidered on her sleeve. "I'm delivering a message for a dead Green Rider," she said.

"Killed by two black arrows."

She nodded.

"My dear young woman, you should not linger in this town. These black arrows sound like an omen to me. An omen of the dark past. No doubt it has something to do with Mornhavon the Black."

Karigan shuddered. Whether it was the cold of the evening or the name that caused her to do so, she wasn't sure. Mornhavon the Black's name had come up a lot since she had started this strange journey, even though he had been vanquished centuries ago.

"That person outside your door may not have been an ordinary brigand, either," Gowen said.

"How so?" Karigan's voice held little surprise.

"Most don't dare tamper with the guests of this inn. Keeper Wiles' man, Tarone, hasn't stopped short of killing to retain order here. Whoever wished to gain entry does not fear him."

Goosepimples broke out all over again. "Did you get a look at him?"

Gowen shook his head. "He was light of foot and disappeared into the shadows the moment he detected me. The corner of his cloak caught in my lamplight. It was gray."

A knock on the door startled them both.

"Oh, no. The innkeeper and his guard." Gowen rolled his eyes.

Karigan climbed to her feet, carefully draping a blanket over her shoulders to conceal the Rider insignia before she opened the door. The innkeeper stood in the corridor flanked by a hulking giant who was, if not as tall as Abram, at least as wide. He held an enormous club in his hand, and nothing about him suggested Abram's mild and careful nature. Now she knew how the innkeeper enforced order.

"Is everything well here?" the innkeeper asked, the corners of his mouth turned down as if to imply he didn't really care, but he had a reputation to maintain.

"Everything is fine," Karigan said. "Gowen and I were just having a conversation."

The innkeeper sniffed and cast Gowen a severe glance. "You know the rules, minstrel. No… associations with the guests." The guard thumped his club into his hand in emphasis. "You do your job well, but if you can't abide by the rules, I shall have to release you."

Karigan watched in fascination as Gowen affected a convincing facade of humility bordering on fear. "It's really nothing, Keeper Wiles. Really." His eyes were downcast and he bowed. "The lady and I were just making conversation. We hail from the same town. It won't happen again, I assure you, sir."

"It's truly all right," Karigan said. "He's done no harm."

Wiles grunted in disdain. "You may keep your job for now." He turned down the corridor, his guard following behind with heavy footsteps.

Gowen dropped all facade. "That man is a pompous… Well, you saw him. Mind what I told you, young lady. And mind whatever Clatheas told you, too. She's an accurate seer. Farewell and good luck to you!"

Karigan stood alone in her dark room. The door creaked as she closed it. She turned the key in the lock and fell back into bed. Sleep would be impossible now, and she gave some thought to leaving that very moment, but it wouldn't do to arouse any more suspicion than she needed to. Besides, the starless night was less inviting than the warm inn, and she would rather stay put than encounter the Shadow Man again in the dark.

MIRWELL

The Green Rider passed the envelope to Beryl. Beryl glanced at it front and back, then handed it to the governor.

"It bears the king's seal, my lord."

Mirwell looked the envelope over. It was addressed to
Honorable Tomastine II, Lord-Governor of Mirwell Province, Faithful Servant of Sacoridia
. The seal on the back was Zachary's, but featured his clan emblem, that of a Hillander terrier pressed into heather-colored wax, rather than the royal emblem of the firebrand and the half moon.

He slit the message open with his dagger and read the contents. Afterward, he handed it back to Beryl to read. The Greenie waited, standing statue-still with her hands clasped behind her back.

Mirwell glanced at her, then his aide. "Rider—"

"Ereal M'farthon, my lord," Beryl provided.