SUMMONED
Karigan leaned against the fence rail, Elgin beside
her, watching the newest batch of green Greenies circling the
riding ring on horseback at a trot under the hawklike scrutiny of
their instructor, Horsemaster Riggs.
Karigan had come
outside to rest her eyes after trying to untangle Rider accounts
and payroll. They were an even bigger mess than she originally
thought. After too many hours crouched over tiny notations, she’d
grown restless. Days had passed and she hadn’t received a single
message errand, while Tegan had been out twice, and Garth
disappeared during the night.
Maybe it was the
bright sunlight and the smell of damp earth as the snow melted that
made her twitchy. Birds returned from the south in chittering
flocks, and the horses ran and kicked in their pastures with
renewed vigor. The world was coming alive, but Karigan was stuck in
the damp, dark deeps of the castle with her dim lamp and ledgers.
Maybe she ought to tack up Condor and take him around the ring a
time or two herself.
Some of the new
Riders were clearly more acquainted with the finer points of
horsemanship than others. Horsemaster Riggs did not demand perfect
form. She did train her students to be
capable riders able to sit a saddle for long hours, to keep their
seat in difficult situations, even during battle, and how to pace a
cross-country journey. The care of a horse and its equipment were
also among her important lessons.
Currently they rode
retired cavalry horses. New messenger horses would arrive later in
the spring, brought by the trader whose family had supplied the
Green Riders with their mounts for generations. The horses came
from the wild and were very intelligent, even uncannily knowing.
When they chose to be.
Pretty soon each of
these new Riders would have a horse that was his or her own to ride
and care for, forming a special partnership and friendship that
would last as long as both lived.
“Reverse trot,”
Master Riggs called out.
The Riders obeyed,
or attempted to obey, the command. One girl flailed her legs
against the sides of her horse, who merely halted and dropped his
head to graze. A boy could not stop his horse from circling. Others
failed to switch diagonals as technique required for the posting
trot. Master Riggs sorted them out one by one.
“They seem to be
coming along,” Karigan said.
“Got a ways to go,”
Elgin replied.
“At least it’s not
more etiquette training. Did you ever talk to Mara about
Ty?”
Elgin made a
snorting laugh.
“That would be a
‘yes’?” Karigan inquired.
Elgin nodded. “I
must give Mara credit for a creative solution.”
“Oh?”
“Yep. Instead of
confronting Ty directly, she simply sent him on an errand to
Penburn. He’ll be gone a good bit and I can see that these wee
chicks are turned into real Riders.”
Karigan had to admit
it was a clever move on Mara’s part. Sending Ty away would not
ruffle his feathers the way correcting him on his training methods
would, and he could not argue with a direct order to head out on a
message errand.
“Heh, when Ty
suggested she send you instead,” Elgin said, “Mara told him that if
he wanted his pay on time that you be left here to continue working
on payroll. That sealed it.”
And it explained why
Karigan hadn’t been sent on any errands. She sighed. The sooner she
fixed the ledgers, the sooner she could be out riding.
They watched the
lesson in silence for a while more. The sun felt good on Karigan’s
back, and she was not inclined to return to the darkness of the
castle. Master Riggs called on her students to canter. Again, some
made the transition more easily than others. Some sat the gait
nicely, others lurched around on their saddles.
“That Merla,” Elgin
said, “is coming along fine.”
Karigan spotted the
girl, a gawky sixteen-year-old who sat her horse competently
enough, even though her elbows stuck out and her posture was
slouched.
“From Adolind,”
Elgin said. “Her folks are tenant farmers. Real poor. No horses for
them. She’d never been on one before she came here. Look at her
now—a natural. See the extension on Baron? He’s liking it. Now
Sophina on the other hand ...”
Karigan glanced at
the young woman who rode her horse very erectly, heels down and
toes up, shoulders thrown back, hands steady. Here was someone who
had been taught proper equitation, but who appeared stiff and
uncomfortable. It did not help she had her chin pointed up and a
scowl of disdain on her face at having, Karigan assumed, to endure
lessons at such a rudimentary level.
“She’s a bit of a
priss,” Elgin said.
Karigan raised an
eyebrow at his bluntness.
“Aristocratic
family, I hear, and her parents none too happy she’s been called.
She’s riding old Graft like a stick of firewood. Thinks she’s too
good for us and our old cav horses. No doubt her poppy provided her
with all sorts of hotbloods to ride around on at
home.”
Karigan gave him a
sidelong look. She’d had access to numerous fine horses in her
father’s stables herself as she grew up, and so she thought his
opinion of Sophina unfair. However, she refrained from mentioning
this fact to Elgin or reminding him of her own father’s
wealth.
“Does Graft look
happy to you with Sophina riding him?” he asked.
Karigan had to admit
he did not. His was a plodding sort of canter, and he chomped on
his bit in discontent; it was true Sophina looked like she would be
much happier in a sidesaddle on some fine hunter riding with others
of her own class.
“Wait till Riggs
puts them in mounted combat training,” Elgin said with a wicked
gleam in his eye. “Then Sophina will learn something, and I hope
she does. I hope they all do because it’ll mean their
survival.”
He was right,
Karigan reflected. Riders rode in all conditions and under many
circumstances. Fighting from horseback would be a whole new
discipline for the young Riders to learn as it had been for her.
All of her training with Arms Master Drent was fine and good.
Dismounted. Wielding a sword from atop a horse required an entirely
different set of skills.
“We want them to
come back,” Elgin murmured. “We always want that.”
Elgin suddenly
seemed to no longer see the Riders in front of him. Karigan thought
he must be thinking of those in the past. She knew little of his
history, but wondered what Riders he
had lost. She observed him closely, saw a muscle jump in his cheek
and the subtle tightening of his weathered features.
“Command is never
easy.” His voice was so soft Karigan thought he spoke more to
himself. “Give an order, never know if they’ll make it
back.”
Karigan thought to
ask questions, to gently delve into his past, but a Green Foot
runner approached at that moment with a summons from Captain
Mapstone. She bade Elgin good-bye, and minutes later when she
reached officers quarters, the captain opened the door and ushered
her in.
The captain’s
chamber served both as both her living quarters and her office and
was on the whole spare of personal adornment. However, books,
ledgers, and other records crammed shelves, and a barrel full of
maps was tucked into a corner. Her worktable was strewn with papers
and a few mugs filled with the dregs of old tea. The light was dim,
for like the castle itself, officers quarters were built of stone
with only arrow slits allowing outside light in. The captain,
Karigan knew, did not spend a great deal of time here, for she was
often in the castle attending the king and sitting in on
meetings.
“Have a seat,
Karigan,” the captain said, then proceeded to scratch away on a
paper with her pen, seemingly oblivious to her Rider’s
presence.
Karigan sat in a
chair before the worktable, awaiting her captain’s pleasure and
wondering why she’d been summoned. Perhaps she’d be sent on an
errand after all, though it was usually Mara who passed on those
orders. Maybe the captain wanted to discuss her progress on the
ledgers and payroll. Whatever it was, she did not mind the
diversion.
The captain
scribbled on for some moments, her expression intense. In the dim
light, it appeared to Karigan that there was a little more white
mixed in the captain’s red hair than she remembered, a few more
careworn lines along her eyes. However, when finally the captain
set her pen aside and looked up at Karigan, her hazel eyes were as
lively as ever.
“Deadlines,” the
captain said, by way of explanation, and she sprinkled sand on wet
ink. She folded her hands together atop the worktable and gazed
steadily at Karigan for some moments. “How goes your work with the
accounts?”
Karigan described
her struggles, but she wasn’t sure the captain was hearing
everything she said, though she made affirmative noises at the
appropriate moments.
When she finished,
the captain said, “We need to find someone else who can assist with
accounts, and take over when you are on an errand. Mara is an
excellent Chief Rider, but dealing with accounts is not one of her
strengths. I’ll have Elgin keep an eye out for someone who might
do, and then you can train him or her up to your
standards.”
“That would be
helpful, I guess,” Karigan said. As much as she disliked taking
care of Rider accounts, she feared that adding another person into
the process would only muddle things up all the more.
When she noticed the
captain still gazing at her with an intense look on her face,
Karigan surmised the summons was not actually about Rider accounts
at all.
The captain abruptly
stood, rounded the table, and leaned against its edge with arms
folded. Again there was the scrutiny, as if she were trying to see
into Karigan’s soul and make up her mind about something. Karigan
shifted in her chair. She hadn’t been concerned by Captain
Mapstone’s summons when she came to officers quarters, but now she
was beginning to worry.
“I wish to discuss
an errand with you,” the captain said. “One that will be, for the
moment, between you and me. I request that you do not speak of it
to anyone else.”
“Of course,” Karigan
said.
The captain nodded,
then said, “There is no easy way to broach this other than to just
say it. Karigan, I need to send you into Blackveil.”
It was as though a
crater opened beneath Karigan and she fell, the world rushing past
her, the weight of dread speeding her on.