Green Rider (46 page)

The king barely flicked an eyelash at Beryl. "I trust you will join us for the annual ball and hunt?" the king said.

"I wouldn't think to miss it. About the only time I see Sacor City is at the King's Spring Hunt, Excellency." He would not miss it, indeed. After the hunt—or was massacre a better term?—Amilton would take the throne as king. Did Zachary suspect? His demeanor was as cool and distant as ever, and Mirwell's own court spy had informed him that, though the message had gotten through, it said nothing about the assassination plans, and in fact, nothing to implicate Mirwell or Amilton, and no one was paying attention to the Greenie who had carried the message. A waste of time and effort, the pursuit of that Greenie, but better to be on the safe side.

But who knew what went on behind the king's closed features? He had a card player's face, even better than his father's, and loads better than his brother's. Amilton was as subtle as a herd of horses, but he would be all the easier to control. Mirwell bent over and picked up the game piece of the green king from the floor. Other pieces still stood in formation on the Intrigue board.

"Are you an Intrigue player?" the king asked.

Mirwell chuckled. "You see my interest! Well, yes, I admit the competitive streak runs through me. When the long winter runs dull, a game of Intrigue is in order. I see you soundly defeated your opponent in this game."

Zachary bent down and scratched the dog behind its ear. "An unskilled opponent… No, rather, an uncommitted player."

Mirwell grunted. "When you aren't committed to the outcome of the game, there is no way you can win. It must have been a very disappointing match."

"In some ways it was, but in other ways it was quite rewarding."

Mirwell wondered at the king's expression, for suddenly the card player's facade fell away, and he saw a man who seemed amused and preoccupied about something. Whoever his opponent had been, he had caught the king's interest. He set the green king on the board, on its side in the dead position, the way it should be.

"Tomorrow," the king said, "I'm calling a council of governors. All but Adolind are here, the governor still mourns his daughter."

"Ah, yes. Killed in the groundmite massacre with those other schoolchildren." Mirwell shook his head as if he had not been the one who engineered it. "A pity. I am thankful to the gods my Timas was not among them."

"A great loss," Zachary said grimly. "Those children were part of Sacoridia's future. Despite the loss among your other counterparts, they deemed themselves able to attend. We've a visitor in the city the likes of whom we have not seen for hundreds of years."

"Truly?"

"Yes. I should like you to meet him, and judge him as you may. In the meantime, your suites in the east wing have been readied for you and your staff. I hope you will be comfortable."

Mirwell stood up to bow, thinking that he would like Zachary well enough if he wouldn't impede his acquisition of power and lands. "It is always comfortable, Excellency."

With the formalities concluded, he hastened out of the throne room at a rate at which he surprised himself. But once he was through the doors, he clamped his hands around Beryl's arm.

"We shall go to our suites, my dear," he said. "You will have a much different perspective of the place than when you were with the regular militia."

"I already have," she said.

Mirwell scrunched his brows together. "Already?" Ah, well. He would experience every moment with her. He wouldn't let her out of his sight.

KARIGAN ATTENDS THE KING'S BALL

Karigan approached the grand entrance to the ballroom from a walkway that wound through the rose gardens of the east courtyard. The cloying scent of red and pink blossoms almost overpowered the still night. Luminiers flickered along the walkway with a festive radiance that might have put her in a celebratory mood if not for the choking collar of her Green Rider uniform. Once again, Captain Mapstone had seen her into the formal uniform, this time with the addition of a gold sash about her waist.

Music and gold light, conversation and laughter, and orchestral music drifted from the open doors into the warm evening to mingle with the chirping choruses of crickets. Guests in colorful finery clustered around the entrance and Karigan wondered again what she was doing here. Like her father, she was not fond of the aristocracy and here she would be surrounded by it.

She stood in line, tugging at her collar, waiting while two guards in king's livery checked invitations. Her palms sweated because she had not been given one, and had nothing to show the guards. She was about to turn back, to return to the sanctuary of Rider barracks, but was just then noticed by a guard.

"Hey, Greenie," he said.

Karigan swallowed and stepped forward.

"You have an invitation?"

"I, uh…"

The other guard laughed. "Greenie's trying to break in on the ball without an invitation."

Karigan furrowed her brows. "I was invited. Rather, I was commanded here by the king himself."

The first guard broke out laughing. "Commanded! That's a new one. Commanded by the king to attend a ball."

"Greenies never pull their weight," the second said. "King's a magic-lover if you were invited."

"Begone, girl. We've lords and ladies to attend to."

Karigan put her hands on her hips. This sort of treatment she expected from aristocrats, not from fellow commoners. "Now you listen here—"

"Is there a problem?"

Karigan almost did not recognize Alton D'Yer. He stood resplendent in a gold silk waistcoat and a long red coat. A gold medallion, undoubtedly a family heirloom, hung from his neck, and a royal blue sash was tied about his waist. He definitely was not attired in green, though his gold-winged horse brooch was pinned to his lapel. Thunderstruck by the transformation, Karigan almost missed the two guards bowing.

"There is no problem, my lord," the first guard said. "This Green Rider has no invitation, therefore she cannot be admitted."

"Oh," Alton said. "It has nothing to do with the king being a magic-lover, then?"

Both guards blanched. "N-no, of course not, my lord. I mean, we didn't mean to say…"

Alton's face grew stern. "Enough. This Green Rider is with me." He handed the invitation to the guard and steered Karigan into the ballroom.

As soon as they were through the entrance, Karigan quailed. She wanted to turn back and run, no matter what the guards would think. The ballroom exceeded the size of any great hall she had ever seen. It possessed vaulted ceilings like that of the king's throne room, supported by carved granite pillars. The floor was checkered with exquisite tile illustrated with scenes from the legend of Hiroque, Son of the Clans. Large doors opened up to balconies and the night air.

Dancers swirled around the ballroom in brilliant colors, the long dresses of ladies sweeping the floor and their jewelry sparking in the light of crystal chandeliers. The formal coats of men twirled as they swung their partners around the dance floor. Everything seemed to sparkle and shimmer, and Karigan felt very small and plain in her Green Rider uniform.

"Oh, look," Alton said, smiling. "Someone dug out all the old tapestries."

Tapestries representing each province billowed on the walls. Faded and worn tapestries of original Sacor Clans, clans that had long ago disappeared, had also been hung.

"I suppose the king wants to remind us all of the days when the Eletians were not strangers to the Sacoridians," Alton said. "There's D'Yer's."

Its field was gold like his waistcoat, the crest a simple sword crossed by a hammer, and bordered by a stone wall design. It matched the design etched on his medallion. The tapestry was too far away for Karigan to read the words stitched beneath the emblem.

"
The hammer of D'Yer shall break stone
," Alton quoted, as if reading her mind, "
but no other shall break stone walls built by D'Yer
. It is said my ancestors learned the craft of stonework from Kmaernians, and though they mastered it, they were never able to achieve what the Kmaernians had. Even so, D'Yer stonework was considered the best outside of Kmaern. The castle is built of it, and so is the D'Yer Wall. But if I've heard correctly, the D'Yer Wall has been breached."

Karigan caught herself pulling at her collar again, thinking that if her father had designed the uniforms, they would be far more comfortable. She cleared her throat when she noticed Alton gazing hard at her. Did he know she was the one who had reported the breach of the D'Yer Wall? Or, was there something else in his expression? Perspiration slid down her temple.

"If I didn't know any better," Alton said, his voice barely heard above the orchestra, "I'd say that you were a bit shy of crowds."

"I—I— ' She blushed, confirming Alton's suspicions. "Aristocrats," she blurted.

"Ah, you are allergic to us."

Karigan crossed her arms, wishing away Alton's patronizing smile. He wasn't the usual aristocrat, perhaps because of his connection to the Green Riders, but there were moments…

"Look, the Eletian." Alton pointed across the room, and there, flickering between the blur of swirling dancers, Zachary sat on a smaller replica of his throne chair, conversing with another. Karigan's impression of the Eletian was simply of gold hair—gold hair such as she had never seen before.

"Shall we go meet him?"

Karigan was horrified by the very idea, especially since it would bring her in proximity to the king. "Uh, no. I'd rather stay here."

"Here" was just inside the entranceway hidden by shadows.

"How will the king know you're here, then?"

Karigan gave Alton a cockeyed glance. "Are you now my keeper?"

"No, the captain asked me to look after you."

Well, that explained it. Leave it to Captain Mapstone to make sure that Karigan had someone watching out for her own interests. "I have no wish to see the king or to be seen by him."

Alton shrugged. "Do you want to dance, then?"

"Dance?"

"It is what people do." His eyes seemed to laugh at her though his expression was perfectly sober.

"No." Karigan didn't mind dancing in a family setting, but this was far different.

"I'm off to the refreshment table, then. Skulk in the shadows if you wish, but watch out for Weapons." He strode off along the edge of the dance floor, weaving in and among people, pausing to greet a few. Karigan stood alone, an island in the midst of a sea of strangers. She took a deep breath, then plunged after him. He handed her a goblet of wine, and a single sniff told her it was Rhovan White. "Good," he said. "I see you've decided to join the festivities."

Karigan held the goblet tightly, her hand shaking. The entrance was now many lengths away. Aristocrats fairly jammed the place, and over the scent of her own wine, she could smell their perfumed bodies as well as the underlying sweat. A breeze tickled her as the dancers swept by. Their long gowns brushed against her. Excited voices chatted over the orchestra, their words an indistinct babble. The colors of different clans sprinkled the crowd. More gold of D'Yer, the purple of L'Petrie, the cobalt of Coutre. The scarlet of Mirwell. She started, spilling wine on her hand.

Alton passed her a cloth napkin. "On nights like this," he whispered in her ear, "there are no enemies. It is part of the intrigue."

Karigan shivered despite the close heat of the room. She did not recognize any of the Mirwellians present.