The High King's Tomb (68 page)

And it would not be enough to safeguard her. What he sensed about her, what aroused his fear, went beyond her work as a messenger, beyond the here and now. He could not place what it was that made him fearful, could not name it, but there was
something,
and his only desire was to protect her from it, whatever
it
was.

Actually, there was more he desired. Their brief touch at the dais had not been enough, only begged for more, only intensified his need. But she was gone…

He knew very well his obligation to the realm and Lady Estora, he knew he should return to the throne room, but the impulse to search for Karigan was powerful, like a fever. He took a step forward, but then Laren was there at his side, placing her hand on his arm.

“Your Majesty,” she said, “many of your subjects still wish to speak with you, and there is Lady Estora wondering where you’ve gone.”

He struggled inside himself, obligation warring against desire. But the stakes for the realm, he knew, were too great for him to follow his heart.

But still he hesitated. He took a deep breath, and another. He promised himself that even while fulfilling his responsibilities, he would do whatever was in his power to protect Karigan. No matter what. With this oath in place, he buried to the deepest regions within all that he wished for himself. He was the high king of Sacoridia and his personal happiness was irrelevant.

“Of course,” he replied, and he allowed Laren to lead him back into the throne room, but he could not help glancing over his shoulder into the empty corridor.

“K
nighted?”
Alton asked.

Garth nodded solemnly. “It was a big secret when I left, but the captain thought you’d want to know so she told me. I swore an actual oath not to tell anyone till I reached you.”

They both stared at Dale when she started shaking with laughter. The three Riders sat in Tower of the Heavens before the hearth with a blazing fire keeping them warm, despite the gaping hole above through which cold air and snow whorled down to the chamber. Garth had been astonished by the mess he found, and even more so to find his friends had not been squashed by falling rocks or columns.

It was questionable as to how repairs were going to be made, as emphasis was placed on the breach yet again, where the wall needed to be rebuilt. Alton was never so glad as he was when he heard the book of Theanduris Silverwood had been recovered and hoped it would soon be translated so he could work on restoring the whole wall once and for all. And that would be the end to threats from Blackveil.

“What’s so funny?” Garth demanded of Dale.

“
Sir
Karigan?”

“
Rider
Sir Karigan,” Garth said.

Dale just laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Our little Karigan.”

“A great honor,” said a new voice. Merdigen emerged from beneath one of the arches and joined them at the hearth where he stretched his hands before the fire as if he could take warmth from it. “Your own First Rider was one such.”

That information subdued Dale only somewhat.

“From the sound of it,” Merdigen continued, “your friend has achieved a great deal at great personal risk. It only makes sense the king should so honor her.”

“I know,” Dale said. “It just…it just sounds funny.” Finally she quieted and composed herself, only to snort and break out laughing again. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, and laughing still, she rose and left them, walking through the wall to the outside world.

Garth shrugged and Alton suspected that once Tegan and Dale were back in the same territory, Karigan would find no peace from them.

“I suppose,” Garth said, “this would be a good time for you to compose Karigan a letter of congratulations?”

The suggestion took Alton by surprise and his hand went automatically to his breast where her letter to him lay tucked in an inner pocket, the seal unbroken.

“I–I suppose,” he said.

“Good,” said Garth. “I’ll take any correspondence you have when I leave in the morning.”

That evening, Alton sat alone in the tower at the table, with paper, pen, and ink before him. He’d made a list of supplies needed, and for the king he explained the damage the wall had taken and the odd find of indigo yarn in the breach, and of strange horses left wandering in the encampment.

He additionally requested more Riders to investigate what happened to Tower of the Earth and its guardian, Haurris. The rest of the mages had returned to their towers, vowing to remain awake and in contact with one another, as well as with Alton, so they could continue in their work of soothing the wall guardians and strengthening their song. Alton wanted a Rider in every tower to make sure communication kept flowing.

In the meantime, he’d also seek members of his own clan who might have an ability to communicate with the guardians. Surely he couldn’t be the only one, and if Pendric was any indication, he was not.

That correspondence was easy to deal with. When he finally had no more business, he pulled Karigan’s letter out of his pocket. The envelope was crumpled and the seal an indistinguishable blob from his body heat. With a deep breath, he opened it.

The letter was not long, which was like Karigan, he thought. She was not one to waste time over words and would get straight to the point. He steeled himself for those words, and when he finished reading, he just sat there staring at the wall.

I’m sorry,
she had written.
I don’t know what I did wrong to make you angry at me, but I’m sorry.

All this time Alton had avoided reading the letter first because of his own anger toward Karigan, then because of the anger he feared she meant to level at him. Instead, the words he read were,
I’m sorry.

There were other words, promises to do better if he’d only tell her what was wrong. She valued their friendship too much to lose him. He gave her strength, she said.

Alton shook his head in disbelief. Once again he misjudged her and he couldn’t blame it on a fever or poisons lingering in his veins. He could not blame it on the machinations of Mornhavon the Black. No, he could only blame himself.

Even when overcome by the fevers, how could he ever doubt her? How could he have believed her capable of treasonous behavior? And now she’d been honored by the king for just the opposite…

I am so stupid,
he thought. He wondered if it was too late to repair the damage he wrought.

“You know, she seems to be quite extraordinary.”

Merdigen took Alton so off guard he nearly fell out of his chair.

“What are you doing?” Alton demanded.

“Why, reading over your shoulder. Your friend Karigan, or should I say Sir Karigan, has not only shown great service to king and country, but has enough humility and honor to apologize when she makes a mistake.”

“She isn’t the one who made the mistake,” Alton said, smoothing the letter against the tabletop. “I’m the one who should do the apologizing.”

“Humility and honor,” Merdigen said, “are hallmarks of the best leaders. It’s also useful,” he mused, “if you have a direct connection to the gods.” He wandered off shaking his head and muttering about black horses and gods, then vanished beneath the west arch.

Humility and honor. Alton strove to help his country and he’d felt a failure. Maybe things were turning around. Maybe the book Karigan helped recover would allow him to…

He shook his head. He was not the center of the world. He would do his best to fix the D’Yer Wall and he would do what he could to repair the breach he’d caused between himself and Karigan, and that was a beginning.

He picked up his pen and put a clean sheet of paper before him. He would begin by opening his heart.

Dear Karigan,
he wrote.
I seek your forgiveness…

G
randmother paused to catch her breath and gazed upon the twisted dark limbs grasping out of the billowing mist of Blackveil Forest. Unpleasant as the place was, it was, for her, like a homecoming, for here were the roots of the empire, the lands her ancestors conquered when they came from Arcosia. Here was the base from which the empire would again arise. Old powers would awaken and the enemies of the empire would quail in fear.

She had found the old road that led toward the heart of Blackveil. Overgrown it was, with broken statues along its edges, but as clear a path as any. It would lead her true, for other paths were deceptive, might lure them into traps set by predators. The few retainers she brought along with her remained close and wide-eyed, fearful of the creatures that moved through foliage and underbrush. They had nothing to fear so long as she maintained a shield of protection around them. Lala knew she was safe. She sat on a stone playing string games.

“Come,” Grandmother told her people, “there will be time enough for rest later. Now we must go awaken the Sleepers.”