Green Rider (71 page)

On the periphery of her vision, a shadow with a sword looked down at her with steely eyes. The shadow tossed her mane of russet hair over her shoulder, and turned to the screaming Amilton. The sword streamed through the air like the tail of a falling star and plunged into Amilton. The scream stopped short though its residue clung to the stone walls of the throne room.

Amilton crumpled. The silver fillet fell from his head and rolled across the floor to King Zachary's feet. It spun there like a coin until he grasped it with a trembling hand.

The Eletian faded from existence like a puff of smoke.

Karigan groaned as the last vestiges of magic left her body and the accompanying pain dissipated. Her father's face clarified in her hazy vision as he looked down at her. Sevano, and some blonde, green-eyed lady who looked vaguely familiar, also gazed down on her.

"Kari?" her father said hoarsely.

"Uh…" was all she could say.

He clasped her hand. His hand was warm and its weathered texture felt good to her. It felt real. "Can you sit up?" he asked.

She raised herself to her elbows and shook her head to clear it. Pain lingered, but its intensity was a distant thing. Her whole
body
felt battered; it was too difficult to pinpoint one single hurl more significant than the others. Where the current of magic had entered her shoulder, she felt nothing at all.

She let her father and Sevano help her to her feet. Shakily she hooked a strand of hair behind her ear.

An odd gray light stole the contrast of oil lamp and night from the throne room. With some surprise she realized morning had finally dawned and its dusky light had brightened the east side windows.

Nobles murmured among themselves in weary tones. Brienne and Rory stirred on the floor, grimacing and rubbing their eyes Fastion crouched by them. Captain Mapstone sat beside a dazed Beryl Spencer who cradled her head in her hands. Connly held his sword to the jowls of Tomas Mirwell

Jendara stood over the body of Amilton Hillander. Her bloodied sword hung loose in her hand. She shook her head and tossed it aside. The clatter of metal on stone woke everyone up. All eyes fell on her. Her eyes found Karigan. "We are even, Greenie," she said.

Karigan opened her mouth to speak, but just then, the throne room doors burst open and Weapons and soldiers dressed in silver and black spilled into the room. The door hidden behind the tapestry opened as well and Weapons, followed by Horse Marshal Martel and his cavalry soldiers, issued in. The opening of the doors dissipated the last of the spell that had cloaked the room.

Horse Marshal Martel and the Weapons sought out the king to ensure he was well. Karigan could not tell from where she stood, but he seemed well, at least as well as she was. He looked dazed and exhausted, with blood staining his mustache and beard.

"We need some menders here," Marshal Martel said to one of his officers, "and double quick."

A Weapon knelt by the corpse of Devon Wainwright. Others joined him, and they spoke in low voices. They stood and turned to the king. "We seek the one who has killed Devon."

Before the king could respond, Jendara stepped forward and said, "I did."

Swords hissed out of sheaths. A black ring of Weapons closed in on her.

"I know you, traitor," one said. "Devon was our teacher."

"You shall suffer Saverill's fate," another said.

Jendara stared coldly at each of her captors. "I was once Devon's student, too. I learned much from her." She looked them over critically, as if gauging them, as if they had fallen far beneath her standards.

Then she lunged.

One of the Weapons reacted by raising his sword to stop her. Jendara did not stop.

"N-no," Karigan cried, but her father enclosed her in his arms and swept her down the throne room runner, and through the great oaken doors.

HOMEWARD

Karigan walked along the pasture fence, in the bright blue silks her father had given her, feeling odd after so long wearing the uniform of the messenger service. The silk felt light and billowy on her skin, as if she wore nothing at all.

She squinted in the sun, watching Condor frisk with some other horses. He cantered across the pasture, his tail held high like a flag and his ears pricked forward. Karigan laughed aloud when he halted in his tracks to roll and grunt in a patch of mud. Mel would not be happy when it came time to groom him.

"Carefree, aren't they?"

Karigan turned in surprise to find Beryl Spencer standing behind her. Incredibly she still wore her scarlet uniform with the incongruous winged horse brooch fastened to her shortcoat. She held the reins to a bay mare tacked with saddlebags for long travel. The mare's ears flopped back and forth and she nickered at the frolicking horses.

Beryl patted the horse's neck. "This is Luna Moth," she said. "I just call her Luna. She would much prefer to be playing with her friends rather than leaving."

"Where are you off to?"

Beryl glanced at the reins in her hands, then back up at Karigan. "Now that old Lord Mirwell is under lock and key and those in his army who will not be executed are marching home, I thought I would return to Mirwell Province and see what good I could do there. After all, I still hold an officer's commission in the provincial army."

"You can't be serious," Karigan said. "They must know the part you played."

Beryl smiled brightly, an expression Karigan had never seen on the serious woman's face before. "It is generally believed Green Riders are a reckless lot, always galloping off into trouble. More or less it is true, and hopelessly so." She shrugged. "It may be no one in Mirwell is aware of my… affiliations. After all, anyone privy to the information has been killed or locked up, and may yet face execution."

"It isn't just recklessness," Karigan said. "You're endangering yourself."

"Perhaps, but maybe the new lord-governor will welcome one who can help him ease into his new position. After all, no one knows that position better than I. Besides, King Zachary desires a liaison to watch over Mirwell Province, and, shall we say, influence the new lord-governor's loyalties.'

Karigan frowned. Her old nemesis from school, Timas Mirwell, was going to be lord-governor. In a way, his actions had precipitated the ultimate fall of his father: he had caused her to run away from Selium, which caused her to meet F'ryan Coblebay, which caused her to carry the message…

"Bad things may await me in Mirwell," Beryl said, "but I can't try to change the province from here. Besides, I can be quite persuasive." She touched her brooch. "How about you? What will you do? I know Captain Mapstone is keen to swear you in. We're so short of Riders now."

Karigan smoothed some breeze tousled hair out of her face. "This afternoon I leave for Corsa with my father," she said. "I could be leading my own cargo trains within the year."

Beryl reached out and clasped Karigan's hand. "Good luck," she said. "I find it hard to imagine you as a merchant. It sounds rather tame."

"Good luck to you," Karigan replied. "Watch your back around Timas."

Beryl stuck her toe in the stirrup and mounted Luna gracefully- "That's Lord Timas to you." She grinned, and with a wave of her hand, she was off.

Karigan snorted.
Lord Timas
? She did not envy Beryl.

Her wanderings led her into the quiet of the inner courtyard gardens. She sat cross-legged on a stone bench warmed by the sun, and cupped her chin in her hands, intent on watching bees crawl in and out of the rose blossoms. A hummingbird buzzed by and chased another from a blossom. It was hard to believe she had killed a man in this peaceful place not so long ago.

She rubbed the cold spot on her shoulder, the spot that stayed cold despite the heat that beat down on her. It was the place the tendril of black magic had scored her flesh, and although her various bruises, bumps, strains, and even the sword slash, were taking care of themselves, this wound was slow to heal. The skin was punctured and burned, but did not hurt. On the contrary, it lacked feeling. The menders did not understand it. They applied a variety of poultices, but nothing seemed to have much of an effect on it.

So absorbed in her thoughts was she that she did not hear the approach of another until a shadow fell on her. She gazed up and discovered the tall blonde, green-eyed lady she had seen in the throne room. She was familiar, but Karigan couldn't place just where they had met before.

"Hello," the woman said. "Am I intruding?"

"No," Karigan said.

"May I sit?"

Karigan dropped her feet to the ground and moved over so there was room on the bench for two.

"I almost did not recognize you without the green uniform," the woman said. Her own gown of aqua and deep gold was a summery contrast to the black Karigan remembered her wearing in the throne room.

Karigan tried to figure out who she was. The accent was eastern, her bearing that of nobility. "I'm sorry," she said, "but have we met before?"

The woman's eyes danced. "Yes, under very mysterious circumstances.'

Recognition struck Karigan, and she wondered how she had missed it before. "Lady Estora!"

"I am glad for this opportunity to talk to you without a veil on so you would know who it was you helped. I wish to tell you what a comfort it has been to have F'ryan's final letter."

Karigan smiled. "I'm glad I could help."

"I now know what else that letter contained. Captain Mapstone told me all about it, and all you endured to bring it." Lady Estora's eyebrows became set and her tone more serious. "You know, that night in the throne room, I saw much in you that reminded me of F'ryan."

"I didn't know him," Karigan said. "At least not well."

Lady Estora seemed to search for the right words. "You were not going to let anything stop you, and you did not. That was very like F'ryan."

Karigan looked at her knees. "I couldn't stop. I was afraid. I was afraid for my father, I was afraid for the king, and I was afraid for me. If I stopped…" She spread her hands wide for Lady Estora to come to her own conclusion.

Lady Estora studied her thoughtfully.

"Something wrong?" Karigan asked.

"No." Lady Estora shook her head and her hair shimmered in the sunshine like a river of gold. "F'ryan was never, forgive me, strong enough to admit fear. He shrugged it off like nothing, but I could see it in his eyes."

They sat in silence for a while, lumpy white clouds sailing across the sky far above, and a toad scampering beneath some bushes. A hummingbird darted from blossom to blossom with whirring wings. All of these small details of life Karigan had taken for granted.