Green Rider (47 page)

The orchestra music ceased, as did the dancing, as if only the music controlled the motion on the ballroom floor. The dancers, some panting, some fanning themselves, laughed and clapped with gloved hands before converging on the refreshment table. Karigan watched with wide eyes at the tide of people descending upon her, and was edged toward the dance floor by Alton.

She nearly panicked in the crush of swarming, moving bodies which flowed by her like the torrent of a river. She turned round and round and bumped into a stout old man. The beard looked vaguely familiar. Then it dawned on her: the old man with the bear pelt at the throne room entrance the other day, only now he wore…

Karigan jabbered something unintelligible, and the old man glared at her. "Humph. Manners lacking, eh?" he said. "I don't know what kind of training they give you messengers these days. Spence! This person has spilled wine on me."

A woman in the uniform of Mirwell Province was instantly at the man's side, dabbing his scarlet surcoat with a cloth. The woman was tall and attractive, but expressionless. Then her winged horse brooch caught the light. Karigan opened her mouth in exclamation, but a subtle shake of the woman's head stopped her short.

"S-sorry," Karigan mumbled.

"You will be sorry," the old man said, "if you bump into me again." He sniffed. "At least you have good taste in wine."

Alton reappeared, and before she could consider the significance of a Mirwellian wearing a Rider brooch, he grabbed her by the sleeve and hauled her onto the dance floor. The music piped up again, and a mischievous look crossed his face. He took her goblet and placed it on the tray of a passing servants. He held both of her hands in his and steered her around and around the floor at a breathless rate, magically synchronized with the music and other dancers. Karigan stumbled, but Alton helped her find her footing.

The dance was similar to the reels she knew from clan celebrations—the music was just fancier here. Her stomach muscles loosened, the dance releasing some of her nervous tension. She fell into the rhythm of the dance, the surroundings all a blur like the Wild Ride, so dizzying that she thought she might lose her bearings and fly across the room.

"Look at me," Alton said, "and you won't get so dizzy." He grinned at her as he led her through the circular motion of the dance.

Instead, Karigan closed her eyes and imagined herself on horseback, the swishing of long gowns sounding of wind, her heartbeat the rhythm of hoofbeats. The
hoofbeats
. She shook her head, yet she could not rid herself of the rhythm which meshed with the dance, speeding ever faster.

Alton released her hands, and she spun to another partner. She found herself face-to-face with the Eletian. He nodded to her with a smile as if he knew something she did not, and carried on the rhythm of the dance.

Karigan's heart pounded harder, hard enough she was sure, that everyone else could hear it, especially the Eletian. His pale blue eyes, eyes like the winter sky, met hers only briefly before turning elsewhere, taking his secret with his gaze.

The music ended, and he dropped her hands. She watched breathlessly as he bowed away, the spectators watching both of them, the women with envy. Karigan's cheeks burned as she strode quickly off the dance floor in as dignified a manner as possible. She followed a current of fresh air to a balcony. No one else was there, and she walked directly onto the parapet, her hand over her thrumming heart, willing it to slow down.

The moon sat in the sky like a fat silver coin with a halo radiating around it. In one corner of the balcony, a brass telescope sat propped on a tripod, pointed toward the moon. She placed her hands on the balustrade and ran them along the smooth granite craft of Clan D'Yer.

"You dance well." Alton stood behind her.

"I didn't hear you come out," she said.

"The music is starting again. Do you want to dance?"

"I've had enough for one night."

"Karigan, the Eletian…"

"I—I don't want to talk about him." She shivered remembering those cool hands and whatever secret his blue eyes held.

"All right." Alton's expression clearly said that he did not understand, but he would not press her. The two stood at length, not speaking. After a time, Alton cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I pulled you into the dance like that."

"The dancing was fine," she replied. "It's the aristocrats I don't—" She stopped, remembering who she was talking to. "I've got to leave."

Alton caught her arm. "I uh… was… I would… What I want to say is…"

Karigan raised a brow as blood flooded Alton's cheeks. Suave Lord Alton had turned into a fumbling schoolboy, and it served him right, too, for dragging her into the dance. "What is it you want to say?"

"I…" Now Alton pulled at
his
collar. "Would you consider… Would you… I mean—"

"Lord Alton, how good to see you."

They both turned as King Zachary strolled onto the balcony, his hands clasped behind his back.

Alton released Karigan's arm and bowed hastily. "Sire, how may I be of service?"

"By allowing me to have a private conversation with Rider G'ladheon."

With a crestfallen look, Alton bowed again and returned to the ballroom. Karigan had a time holding her tongue. Imagine the king presuming to call her
Rider
G'ladheon!

"My apologies for interrupting your conversation with Alton," the king said, misinterpreting her expression. When no response was forthcoming, he added, "I am pleased you made it to my ball."

"It has been very nice, and I'll thank you now, but I must be off."

"Hold one moment if you please. Could we talk for a bit?"

Karigan couldn't exactly turn down the King of Sacoridia no matter how much she wished to flee, could she?

He stepped up to the balustrade beside her, and gazed at the moon. "It is a night an Eletian would appreciate, don't you think? A silver moon out of legend, yet our fine guest lingers within the stone walls of the castle."

In the ballroom, where the gold light glared, the orchestra was on break, the courtiers surrounding the Eletian. He spoke and nodded to his admirers, his smile most charming. Karigan had imagined all Eletians, especially after meeting Somial, to be above such earthly concerns. It was a night to walk beneath the moon, a night to chase silver moonbeams.

Zachary clenched and unclenched his hands. "He offers us ties with Eletia, something that faded shortly after the Long War. And he offers me… great things. Powers that have not been seen since the First Age or the beginning of the Second. Powers, he says, that I can use to keep order in unruly towns like North, or to prevent folk in Abolind from starving the next time winter lasts longer than their food stores. Can you imagine? He offers me powers that would make your Green Rider brooches look like no more than trinkets."

"Do such great powers still exist?" Karigan asked.

"He says that strong powers emanate from Blackveil Forest, and if Sacoridia keeps the breach in the D'Yer Wall open, Eletia will filter and purify them using its own powers." Zachary removed the silver fillet from his brow and began to comb his fingers through his hair. For a moment, years fell away from him, and he appeared a youth not yet hardened by rule: young, afraid, and alone. Vulnerable.

"He offers me much," Zachary said. "Too much, I think, though it has not been my experience to know what Ele-tians are like."

"So you have to figure it out for yourself."

Zachary smiled grimly. "One is used to listening to advisors. All of my court counselors are entirely charmed by Shawdell the Eletian. I suppose I should be, too." He drummed his fingers on the granite surface of the balustrade. "Here I am assured no one listens, and I've posted Weapons by the doorway so that no one drifts out here. I fear that in my own throne room others can somehow hear what I say, though it appears the room is secure. Thus, the game of Intrigue yesterday. You must have found it quite strange."

Karigan nodded, relaxing a little. "You thought that if I had something important to say, it would be overheard by the wrong people."

"Yes. I am particularly concerned about the Mirwellian aspect of your journey. Do you have a few moments to share that with me?"

Karigan told him everything she could remember, including Tome's and Jendara's references to the king's brother. This time she found an absorbed, avid listener, rather than the unpredictable and nonchalant Intrigue player.

"Why were they after Coblebay?" he mused. "His message was worthless."

Karigan shrugged, her opinion of the king now bending toward pity. She had no brothers of her own and so couldn't fathom the betrayal he must feel.

"I trust you will be in the city for a few more days," he said.

"No, actually I plan to leave—"

"I see. When will you be returning?"

Karigan gaped. "Excellency, I don't plan to return. I'm going home to my family. My father is a merchant. It's spring, and he will need me."

The king's expression froze, and she wondered what he did not want her to read. As a king, he must be a master at masking his expressions, or otherwise possess no political leverage, just as a merchant must maintain a neutral gaze during a transaction.

"Are you sure?" he asked her. "After all, you are a Green Rider now. At least in name if not legally sworn in."

"I'm not a Green Rider," Karigan said, maintaining her self-control admirably, she thought.

"I could command you to sign papers to become a Green Rider, to work in my service, but I don't think that will be necessary, and I can only guess how much you would resent it. Coercion is not my usual tactic. Laren—Captain Mapstone—informs me that being a Green Rider is more a matter of spirit than desire, a compulsion, if you will. Something about hoofbeats." Zachary strode across the balcony to the telescope and bent down to peer up at the moon. He pulled back, blinking. "It's bright."

Karigan blinked, too, as if struck. King Zachary had reminded her of someone, the someone she had seen in the brass telescope of the Berry sisters. Images she had seen, of a man much like Zachary, with brown almond-shaped eyes, but slightly older with careworn lines on his brow, imploring her not to… not to go away; that he needed her and could not bear to lose her. Karigan trembled. A future vision? Blood drained from her head and she wobbled.

The king steadied her. "Are you all right?"

"No! Yes. Please, just stay away. I'm leaving. I'm not a Green Rider and never will be."

Driven by a fear that the future might happen if she stayed there with him, with his hands on her arms, she ran from the balcony without bowing, ran past the Weapon Fastion who stood in the doorway, his usual stoic expression scandalized. When she erupted into the glare of the ballroom, a few heads turned to look, then resumed conversation and sipping wine. The orchestra tuned up, and the sound of off-key notes clamored in her ears.

Alton D'Yer tugged at her sleeve. "Karigan, are you—?"

She yanked her sleeve away from his grasp and pushed unapologetically through the guests in desperation to leave. She broke free near the entrance and looked back over her shoulder. King Zachary stood by the balcony doorway watching her with a bemused expression, Alton D'Yer was lost in the swarm of aristocrats, and the Eletian, though in the midst of a group, seemed to stand apart, almost godlike with his golden hair and perfect features. He caught her eyes and smiled. That smile of secrets! She was not warmed by it, and without looking back, she darted into the darkness of night.