ON THE ROOF
Karigan blanched, but she said nothing, issued no
protest, did not request Laren to reconsider. Laren did not know
how anyone was supposed to react to the news that they were being
sent into Blackveil Forest, but she certainly did not expect
Karigan’s stillness.
Laren had deemed it
necessary to speak to Karigan of this now. The king’s other
advisors were pressuring her to officially name the Riders she’d be
sending into Blackveil, and she thought if she put the mission
before Karigan privately, and persuaded her that she was the best
Rider for the job, Karigan might champion her inclusion herself,
perhaps making Zachary less likely to object. But then, love was
unpredictable and powerful and he still might overrule everyone and
forbid Karigan’s participation.
In the face of her
Rider’s quiescence, Laren could only keep talking. “As you’ve
likely heard, the Eletians desire to cross over into Blackveil
Forest.”
Karigan
nodded.
“The king is
determined that they not go without being accompanied by
Sacoridians. We do not fully trust them, and we have as much
interest in seeing what is on the other side of the wall as the
Eletians. The king wishes Riders to be among those who go with
them. You are one of my most experienced Riders, and you have
already been in Blackveil and survived.”
“I was not myself
then ...” Karigan passed her hand over her eyes.
It was an
understatement, Laren knew. Karigan had been possessed in turn by
Mornhavon the Black and the spirit of the First Rider.
Karigan shuddered.
“He was ... he knew everything about me.”
Mornhavon, she meant. Laren could not guess what it
was like to have someone control your actions while you were a
spectator in your own body. How much of Karigan’s mind had he had
access to? What an incredible violation it must have been, and it
was only then Laren realized what she was asking of Karigan. Yes,
Mornhavon might be gone from Blackveil for now, thanks to Karigan’s
own intervention, but what if he reappeared while the company of
Eletians and Sacoridians were still there?
It did not matter.
Karigan was still the best choice, and Laren was her commander. She
could not afford to change her mind based on personal
considerations. Karigan would go as ordered. It was her
duty.
In case there was
some hesitation on Karigan’s part, she said, “I know we have asked
much of you in the past and you have endured more than any Rider I
can think of. If you tell me now not to send you, I will pick
someone else. But frankly, I can think of no other Rider who has a
better chance of returning alive from Blackveil.” The implication
being that any other Rider going in her place would not return, and
the onus would be on Karigan.
Karigan looked down
at her knees as that implication sank in. “I will go, of
course.”
Laren nodded. She
found the manipulation distasteful, but she had only spoken the
truth. “There may be answers to be found that will help us deal
with Blackveil, with Mornhavon. And of course, we need to know why
the Eletians are so bent on exploring Blackveil. We think they are
drawn more by the desire to see what has become of
Argenthyne.”
Karigan continued to
remain still, but upon mentioning the ancient, lost land of the
Eletians, Laren saw something flicker in her eyes, that fathomless
quality she’d seen before. Mysteries, a timelessness. There was a
distance to her as though she already walked in that dark country.
And then just as quickly it faded.
“Who else?” Karigan
asked.
“What?”
“You said Riders,
not Rider. Who else are you sending?”
“I’ve not made any
final decisions as of yet.” And she hadn’t. It was not easy
deciding which of her Riders to commit to such a dangerous mission.
“Have you any suggestions?”
Karigan shook her
head. “When?”
“You are to be at
the wall by the equinox. The Eletians were very clear they wanted
the days to be turning longer than the nights when they entered the
forest.”
Karigan gazed out
the arrow slit. Pale light fell across her face and glinted off her
hair. Her silence unsettled Laren. It would be easier if Karigan
had argued, shouted, thrown her chair across the room ...
anything.
“Do you have any
more questions for me?” Laren asked.
Karigan shook her
head and the light shimmered down her hair.
Laren’s heart sank
at what she believed was resignation on Karigan’s part. “If you
think of any questions or you just want to talk about this, do come
see me.”
When her ploy to
elicit some response from Karigan failed, Laren excused her. After
the door closed behind Karigan, Laren stood still for some moments
feeling regret. She knew she would feel even more regret when she
finally decided which other Riders would accompany Karigan into the
forest. She must consider the experience and magical ability of
each Rider and decide who would be most useful on the expedition,
as well as who would be most likely to survive. She sighed, and
rounded her desk to resume work, but found she could not
concentrate.
Instead, she decided
to seek out Zachary. They needed to talk about Karigan some more
now that she had expressed acceptance of the mission. Laren set off
from her quarters, thinking she would check with Cummings,
Zachary’s secretary, to find out his availability. She was certain
this would be another difficult confrontation. Zachary had cooled
toward her after their last conversation about Karigan, and she
could only guess this would not improve their rapport.
According to
Cummings, Zachary’s schedule was clear for the afternoon. That
meant he could be almost anywhere doing almost anything. It took
Laren a long while to track him down, and when she did find him, it
was in a place she hadn’t been since summer. When she passed
through the heavy door and stepped out onto the castle rooftop, she
squinted in the glare of the sun and shivered. During the summer
the roof was pleasant. Now? She did not envy the soldiers who stood
watch up here every day throughout the winter. Of course, they were
dressed for it and she had only her shortcoat for
warmth.
A soldier greeted
her and pointed the way to the king. She crossed the roof, which
was a warren of guard towers and, at this time of year, warming
huts. Soldiers paced the battlements and looked out on the vista of
Sacoridia searching for anything that might threaten the king and
his realm.
She crossed a
footbridge that spanned a wide gutter, melt water rushing through
it beneath a crust of ice. She found Zachary leaning against a
crenel gazing southward into the city. Donal kept watch several
paces away. From this height, the buildings, people, and animals of
the city looked to her like a princely toy set.
She joined him,
angling into the lee of a crenel to shield herself from the wind,
while allowing the sun to warm her. Zachary wore a fur-lined cloak
and did not appear bothered by the cold in the least.
“What do you see?”
she asked him.
If he was surprised
by her arrival, he did not show it. “I see a busy and prosperous
city laid out before me. Earlier a formation of geese flew north
overhead, while a winter owl perched among the trees.” He paused,
and with a faraway look in his eyes, added, “And not long ago, I
saw a Green Rider ride off castle grounds. It was Karigan.” He
produced his spyglass as if to prove he was not
mistaken.
After the enormity
of what Laren had told Karigan, she was not surprised the young
woman had gone for a ride. Most Riders found solace in the
companionship of their horses. Many was the time when Laren herself
had sought out Bluebird for much needed comfort.
Zachary had provided
the opening Laren needed. She said, “Speaking of Karigan, I thought
you’d want to know she has accepted the mission to go into
Blackveil.”
Laren thought it was
perhaps more accurate to say she’d manipulated Karigan into
accepting the mission, but another part of her truly believed that
given a choice, Karigan would have volunteered to go anyway. She
was like that, always wanting to take responsibility for the big
problems. Or maybe Laren was just trying to justify her actions to
herself.
There was no
outburst of condemnation from Zachary. He just continued to gaze
out at the city. Ever since he was a small boy, he’d been so
serious and learned to rein in his emotions. He was under constant
scrutiny from all quarters, and exposing his true feelings could
compromise his authority, make him vulnerable to attack from his
political enemies. Once in a while, as in their last conversation
about Karigan, his emotions surfaced, but it was a rare
occurrence.
When, she wondered,
did he ever have a chance to follow his passions, to expose
himself? How could he contain it all within himself? Weapons
practice and the occasional hunt in the countryside no doubt
helped, but surely these were not enough.
When was the last
time he’d had a woman with whom to relieve his male urges? There
were elegant courtesans in the city, accepted and patronized by
members of the nobility, who could provide such a service. An
outlet of this sort might help him in many ways, not least of which
would be by diverting his thoughts from Karigan. Yes, she would
certainly make some careful inquiries.
“I knew,” Zachary
said, “she would not refuse. It would not be like her to do
so.”
“Are you going to
intervene?”
He did not answer
for a long while. The breeze ruffled his hair and Laren tensed as
she waited.
“I know the reasons
why you chose her,” he said finally, “and understand them. Yes,
all the reasons. When I separate my
head from my heart, I understand. My heart, however, does not want
it.” He rubbed his chin, his gaze toward the clouds. “Yet I am a
king who must govern more with his head, and less with his
heart.”
Laren’s shoulders
sagged in relief. “I thought you would come to see the sense of
it.”
“Do not mistake me,”
he said. “I will not intervene, but it does not please
me.”
“Of course it does
not. It does not please me to have send any of my Riders.”
“Then I suppose,” he
sharply replied, “I should blame myself that Karigan is going into
Blackveil. After all, it is I who made the decision that Riders
should be part of the expedition.”
Laren did not dare
respond. There was no good answer.
“You censure me with
your silence.”
“No. I
don’t—”
“It is true,” he
interrupted, “that it does all come back to me. I know that as the
dangers to our land increase with Birch to our north and the
uncertainty of Mornhavon to our south that I will have many
difficult decisions ahead that will result in the sacrifices of
many, including those I hold dear.”
Laren sighed. How
could she have ever doubted him?
“There are times,”
he continued, “that I wonder how my life would have been if I were
born to a fisherman or a farmer, instead of a king.”
“Sacoridia would
have been poorer for it,” Laren replied.
“It’s impossible to
say. But I should have liked being a farmer. I’d have been a good
one, I think.”
It was not difficult
for Laren to imagine him on a saltwater farm in Hillander growing
crops and raising cattle. Perhaps he found the idea of it alluring
because it would not only save him from the critical decisions he
must make to safeguard the realm, but because it would also allow
him to be with the woman of his choosing.
“You are a good
king,” Laren said firmly. “We need you.”
“Perhaps there will
be a day when Sacoridia has no need of kings and
queens.”
“What? That’s
nonsense! That’s rhetoric straight from the mouths of those mad
anti-monarchists that used to pass out pamphlets before the castle
gates. What would we have without our monarch? Chaos, that’s
what.”
“Not chaos, but some
other way of governing ourselves. Our current system works if we
have, as you say, a ‘good king,’ but what about those who follow
me? History has shown that the throne has often represented
tyranny.”
Laren gazed hard at
Zachary. He’d always been a deep thinker, but she’d never heard
this line of radical thought from him before. He’d always been so
sure of his place and the role of the monarchy. She hoped no one
else heard him talking like this.
All she was certain
of was that he was a fine king who put his country before himself.
With serious danger threatening the land, they needed him more than
ever.