The High King's Tomb (64 page)

As light as Dale’s words were, they gave Alton a jolt. An image came to him of his red-haired captain working diligently at some task in her quarters. That ordinary sight led to memories of the Rider call drawing him from his life in D’Yer Province all the way to Sacor City and right to the captain’s door. He remembered little of the moment in which he became a Green Rider, except for the warm murmur in his mind,
Welcome, Rider,
and the sense of belonging that overcame him as he held the winged horse brooch in his hand for the first time.

What would he be doing now had he not been called? Attending socials, courting girls of noble blood, hunting, learning how to run a province…He’d be the picture of the perfect lordling with too much time on his hands, a young dandy whose greatest crisis was choosing what to wear to the next party. It certainly would not have prepared him for what he now faced.

He was grateful for the call and to be in a position to help mend the wall. It gave him purpose, something meaningful to do with his life. Thinking of the captain, thinking of himself as a Rider in green, brought him home, so to speak. It centered him. Even there in the damaged tower, even after striving within the wall with the guardians.

He touched his brooch and felt a comforting pulse of warmth and knew that what he was doing, and who he was, was as it should be. The anger and frustration that strangled him for so long evaporated and was replaced by a sense of peace. Now he could work.

“In any case,” Merdigen said, interrupting Alton’s reflections, “it is impossible to say what set off the guardians, though whatever it was, it was unfortunate the wall was in such a fragile state. Did you hear some of them? ‘She passes,’ they said. What it means?” He shrugged. “Perhaps we’ll never know, for we’ll not get useful answers from the guardians.”

Merdigen might shrug it off, but Alton thought anything with the power to upset the guardians more than ominous.

One by one other figures emerged from beneath the arch and joined them. They all looked at Alton who sat on the floor.

“So this is the Deyer,” said a fellow with pale, pale eyes, who could only be Itharos.

“Handsome,” said a lovely, ethereal beauty who floated more than walked. Cleodheris?

“Bit young for my taste,” said a short woman with elfin features. Definitely Boreemadhe.

Alton felt rather at a disadvantage sitting on the floor, and so stood with Dale helping him up, and greeted the tower guardians at eye level.

Another fellow emerged from the opposite arch and announced, “I’ve checked on your cat, Merdigen. He’s nervous, but fine.”

“Good, good,” Merdigen replied. “As soon as we assess the damage to the wall and the towers, we’ll see what we can fix with the help of the Deyer.”

At that point, Dale introduced the remaining tower guardians. Alton felt like he already knew them from all of her descriptions, though the giggling Mad Leaf and solemn Radiscar were new.

Dale peered upward. “It’s snowing,” she said.

Alton followed her gaze, and sure enough, flurries eddied through the hole above and drifted all the long way down into the chamber. Individual flakes alighted on Alton’s face and melted.

“I haven’t seen snow in about a thousand years,” Boreemadhe said, her expression one of awe.

Observing something as ordinary as snow impressing one who was herself a wonder made Alton grateful he had not been lost in the wall or obsession. Every moment of life mattered. Even the perfect snowflake that alighted on his palm and melted in seconds.

M
ara looked good, Karigan thought as she sipped her tea. The two Riders sat with Captain Mapstone in Mara’s chamber in the mending wing. Mara was out of bed and sitting in a chair where sunlight filtering through the frosty window fell brightly upon her white nightgown. In fact, she looked better than ever, the difference noticeable after Karigan’s time away.

Ben’s special mending ability had brought Mara through infection and illness, and reduced the scarring, though some vestige of the burn scars would always remain. Soon Mara would move into her room in the Rider wing, which she’d yet to see, and meet the new Riders who’d arrived since summer. She’d also resume her duties as Chief Rider.

Ben had helped Karigan heal, too. Mostly he used ordinary mending techniques and though she could not remember clearly, she thought he’d used his special ability to heal the festering scalp wound. She recalled lightness and coolness at his touch, a peaceful glow…Then again, it could have been a dream.

Now the stitches on her head and forearm were about ready to be removed. She was glad because the shorn bit of her head looked ghastly. She scowled at the memory of Lord Amberhill suggesting she’d want to wear a hat or hood. Unfortunately he’d been right.

She hardly recognized herself when she looked in a mirror these days, and it wasn’t just the Karigan on the outside who looked different. No, something had changed on the inside, too. It was hard to pinpoint what was different. Maybe she was finally growing up? She did feel
older.
She sighed. It was hard not to change a little after all she’d been through.

“That was some sigh,” Captain Mapstone said.

Karigan looked up, blinking in surprise. She’d forgotten where she was.

“And you were scowling,” Mara said.

“Did you hear anything we were saying?” the captain asked.

“I…” Karigan thought hard. “Garth. You’ve sent Garth on an errand.”

Captain Mapstone and Mara exchanged smiles. “Not just an errand,” the captain said, “but down to the wall to tell Alton the book has been found and that it’s being translated.”

How could Karigan miss mention of the wall? She resolved to pay attention to the present conversation and to stop dwelling on her own thoughts. “I take it Agemon is in charge of the translation?”

“Makes sense, as the book can’t be read anywhere but on the king’s tomb and Agemon will not permit outside scholars down below, especially after the mess you made.”

“The mess
I
made?” Karigan said.

“I heard something about you dressing up in garb belonging to, er, residents of the tombs,” the captain replied. “Agemon thought it very un-Weaponlike.”

Karigan had related her journey at length to the captain, except the part about Fergal jumping into the Grandgent—it did not seem appropriate to do so until he returned with Estora safe and sound. Apparently she had left out a few other details, as well. Mara stifled a snicker.

“In any case,” the captain said, “Agemon reportedly feels very put upon that he must oversee both the cleanup and the translation. He feels the cleanup is more important, but of course the king believes differently and has Brienne exerting pressure on him.”

Karigan did not envy Brienne the task, but she sensed the Weapon was well-accustomed to obtaining results from the recalcitrant caretaker.

“Agemon will be receiving new help,” the captain said. “None of the intruders of the tombs are permitted above ever again, so they’re being detained down below and interrogated by the Weapons, of course, especially about this Grandmother character. Some of the prisoners will be trained in the art of caretaking and absorbed into caretaker society. The others, the more dangerous ones, will probably be executed, but that is up to the king.”

“Thursgad?” Karigan asked.

“Hard to say, since he was in on old Mirwell’s original plot to replace the king with Prince Amilton. My guess, however, is that he’s not as culpable as, say, Immerez. We’ll see.”

Karigan nodded. Even though Thursgad, under Immerez’s orders, had hounded her halfway across Sacoridia a couple years ago in pursuit of the message she bore, she did not see him as
evil.

“Word is,” the captain said, “he confessed freely about how he obtained the book, and undoubtedly that will aid his cause.”

Both Karigan and Mara awaited an explanation, but the captain gazed thoughtfully into space.

“Well?”
Mara demanded.

The captain smiled. “Sorry. I’ve only heard pieces thus far, but it seems he stole the book from a pair of elderly ladies—sisters, he said—who lived somewhere deep in the Green Cloak. He described their manor house as very fine and full of wonders.”

A chill prickled up Karigan’s spine.
Could it be?
By the look on Captain Mapstone’s face, she had made the same guess at the identities of the two elderly sisters.

“You will—you will tell me when you hear more?” Karigan asked.

The captain nodded.

Thought of the Berry sisters brought to mind the portrait of Professor Berry back in Selium, and a ghostly moan of
Liiibraaary.
She dismissed it as her imagination at the time, but had the professor been trying to pass on a message? Then it occurred to her that if this were the case, he’d not been speaking of the Selium library despite the location of his portrait there, but of his own at Seven Chimneys.

It was not inconceivable that among his collections of arcane objects and books that he had somehow acquired the book of Theanduris Silverwood. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her, that of anyplace the book could have been hidden, Seven Chimneys was the most perfect location. Professor Berry had collected objects of arcane interest when most others shunned them.

Why hadn’t she thought of it to begin with? Why hadn’t she listened to Professor Berry’s message? She groaned. As much as she disliked dealing with the dead, she would do well not to dismiss their ghostly whispers as figments of her imagination in the future.

“She’s doing it again,” Mara said.

“Huh?” Karigan asked, glancing about.

“I’d say it was more a groan than a sigh this time,” Captain Mapstone replied.

Karigan furrowed her brow.

“We were just talking about Fergal’s new ability,” the captain continued.

Karigan sat up, now very attentive, wondering once again what she missed. “And?”

The captain smiled. “It’s been about twenty years since an ability like his has surfaced, according to our records.”

“
What
is his ability?” Karigan asked.

The captain’s smile deepened, and Mara chuckled. “If you’d been listening—”

“Please,”
Karigan pleaded. “I’m listening now—I promise.”

“Very well. His ability has to do with being able to read the aural energy around magic users. It was a more useful ability during the Long War when Riders could pick out enemy mages and detect the type of magic they wielded. After the Long War, when magic users died out with the Scourge, the ability was not as useful. Any Rider who had it pretty much saw only the auras of other Riders.

“When Fergal saw the old woman in Mirwellton, he was definitely picking up on some nasty magic. If there are more magic users emerging now, I’d say that Fergal’s ability is going to prove quite useful.”

Karigan wondered about what he detected when he looked at her—darkness. Did it simply represent her ability to fade, or something deeper? He’d mentioned “dark wings,” and she didn’t like the sound of that.

Just then a knock came upon the door and a Green Foot runner entered the chamber. “My pardon, Captain,” he said, “but His Majesty summons you to the throne room.”

A look of disappointment crept across the captain’s face as she set aside her cup. “Duty never takes tea,” she said.

“I could go in your stead,” Mara offered.

“Not in your nightgown,” the captain replied. “I trust you two will stay out of trouble?”

“Yes,” Karigan said with fervor.

“No,” Mara said. “Leastways, I wouldn’t mind a little trouble. Life has been so dull.”

Chuckling and shaking her head, the captain left them.

Had Karigan been confined as long as Mara, she’d go batty, too, but seeing as she had had more than her own share of trouble of late, she reveled in the rest both Master Mender Destarion and Captain Mapstone had ordered her to take. It looked like Mara did her best to amuse herself during her confinement—a pile of books towered on the table next to her bed and the captain had brought her a fresh stack of paperwork. Not to mention she was frequently visited by her friends, lately, mostly by Karigan.

“Maybe we could switch places for a while,” Karigan mused.

“I said I wanted a
little
trouble,” Mara replied. “Not a whole heap. For heavens sakes your stories have been wilder than any in those novels Tegan picked out for me. I want nothing to do with white worlds or icky tombs, or rescuing noble ladies, for that matter. Although,” she added, “I wouldn’t mind meeting Damian Frost. And Lady. Is that really her name? She’s not a noble? If it was her name and she was gentry, we’d have to call her Lady Lady. ‘Hello, Lady Lady. It’s so nice to meet you, Lady Lady.’” Mara had taken on a sophisticated tone and sat poised with teacup held with pinky raised. “‘Would you like one sugar or two, Lady Lady?’”

Karigan almost snorted tea out her nose. When her laughter subsided to giggles, she had to wipe tears from her eyes. Mara looked vastly satisfied with herself.

Karigan had not laughed like this since she was with Estral, and that seemed like ages ago. It was more healing than all the rest in the world.

“So,” Mara said, “anything new for you? Have you been grilled about your adventures by the king yet?”

“No,” Karigan said, and she had to admit she was surprised. She hadn’t even been summoned, though Lord Coutre had sought her out in the Rider wing to hear everything she had to say about his daughter. He was so caught up in his emotions that he had trouble thanking her for helping Estora. All he could do was pat her on her knee and swallow back tears. The encounter shocked Karigan, but she was gratified by how much he appeared to love his daughter and that he wasn’t just interested in how her abduction affected the marriage alliance with the king.

As for the king, Karigan supposed Captain Mapstone and Fastion had given him all the pertinent details, and maybe he didn’t think it prudent to interrupt her healing rest for an interrogation. Had she expected him to come dashing to her bedside to hear all that had befallen her? She shook her head. He had greater things to worry about than her. Captain Mapstone brought general good wishes for her well-being from the king. Apparently Karigan’s time away had done the job of distancing them, but now she found herself annoyed by it, and even more annoyed at her annoyance. Wasn’t it what she wanted? She just wished he’d request to see her; wanted him to want to see her.

Still, it was all for the best. There was no future for them and the sooner they put aside any feelings they had for each other, the better. The diversion of her message errand and subsequent adventures had helped distract her for a while, but returning to the castle with him so nearby did not. As soon as she was rested and all her hurts fully healed, she’d make sure Captain Mapstone knew she was ready to resume her duties. She’d request the long distance errands, even in the deep of winter. Who knew? Maybe she’d get sent to the Cloud Islands where she could bask in the tropical sun and eat fresh fruit while the castle stood icebound and braced against the northern winds.

L
aren Mapstone left the mending wing and set off for the throne room to answer the king’s summons. It pleased her to see both Karigan and Mara looking so well, though she was not certain she’d ever get over the shock of seeing Karigan emerge from the tombs dressed in the black of the Weapons when she was still expecting her to be somewhere in the west. At the time she wondered if this was really her Rider and not some illusion or a twin. But it was neither, and as Karigan’s story came out, it was no less remarkable than her past adventures.

Laren also wouldn’t forget Zachary’s expression of astonishment when he had seen Karigan. The appearance of her in black turned her into something different—older, stern,
dangerous.
The Weapons had proved evasive when asked why they had permitted her to wear their garb. All she could figure was that they held her in some special regard. It wasn’t just the uniform, but something different in Karigan’s eyes. Something fathomless…Laren shook her head.

She’d managed to restrain Zachary from seeing Karigan. Others would take care of her, she knew, and she would not allow emotions to rise between them. When Zachary expressed a desire to visit Karigan, or summon her, Laren put him off, told him Karigan did not wish to see visitors, did not wish to see
him.
He’d given her messages to deliver to Karigan, and she’d destroyed them, telling Karigan only the king had wished her well, as he would any of his Riders.

She hated lying, hated having to destroy the emotional connection between them, but there was something much greater at stake—the unity of her country, and united it must stay if it was to fend off aggression from Blackveil. The sacrifice of romantic feelings between two individuals was nothing in comparison.