Firebrand

  He went silent again, and she thought he might not answer, but he said, “Those who are the wise among Eletians are, shall we say, baffled by you. You are unexpected for a mortal, and they wish to see what you will do next. That is all.”

  Karigan didn’t even know what to say to this. She stood there gaping at him.

  “I was not supposed to tell you,” he said, “for how it might affect your natural behavior, but I can see that it is unfair not to.”

  Her natural behavior? “They want you to spy on me?” she demanded. Then she thought, bitterly, there had been Eletians who, in the past, had wanted to kill her. What was a little spying?

  “‘Spy’ is perhaps too strong a word.”

  “Then what in the hells do you call it?” When he didn’t answer, she continued, “So this whole journey to find the p’ehdrose is an excuse for you to watch me? You Eletians haven’t meddled enough in my life? What I do is not your business.”

  He raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Galadheon—”

  “And why in the name of the gods do you call me ‘Galadheon’? My name is Karigan, or Rider G’ladheon.” “Galadheon”, which meant “betrayer” in the imperial tongue, was the origin of her name, but it had not been used in centuries; not until recently when the Eletians had begun addressing her that way.

  Moonlight limned his shoulders when he shrugged. “It is what we call you.”

  “Eletians!” she sputtered. “I should have stayed in Sacor City.”

  “Do you wish to return?” he asked quietly.

  “I’d like nothing better, but you convinced my king that this journey needed to be made. So you can spy on me.”

  “It was Lhean who did the convincing.”

  “You’re all culpable.”

  “Galadheon,” Enver said.

  “What?”

  “The journey was not devised just so we could spy on you. Our prince believes it important to seek the p’ehdrose, as does your king. To observe you was just a coincidental opportunity.”

  “That makes me feel so much better.” She hoped her sarcasm was thick enough that even an Eletian could recognize it. If she ever saw Prince Jametari again, she would tell him a thing or two. “And why you? Why are you the one to watch me?”

  “It was foreseen.”

  “Oh, good gods. Did your prince foresee you annoying me to death?”

  “Galadheon—”

  “I have had it with Eletians interfering in my life.”

  “I apologize,” Enver said. “I cannot seem to do or say the right thing. How may I make amends?”

  “Stay out of my way.” She turned and headed for the cabin. Before she climbed the steps, she paused and told him, “And no spying.”

  She entered the cabin, and before she closed the door, she thought she heard a forlorn “very well” from outside.

  She sighed and crawled back beneath her blankets. Sometimes she thought that if her brooch left her at that very moment, it wouldn’t be too soon. Then she could go back to an ordinary life and never see another Eletian again.

  • • •

  Estral, Karigan noted the next morning, awoke cheerful and rested. Apparently she had slept peacefully through the night, oblivious to Karigan’s confrontation with Enver. Karigan, on the other hand, could only glare at the day. She had not slept well. She wasn’t surprised that Enver kept his distance.

  When, over breakfast, Estral suggested they make way for the town of North, Karigan responded with a flat, “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “North isn’t safe.”

  “I know it’s a rowdy backwater,” Estral said, “but remember, I lived in a lumber camp before Selium.”

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  Estral gave her a sideways glance. “My, my, someone rolled out of bed on the wrong side this morning.”

  Enver seemed to disappear into the wall.

  “North is not friendly to representatives of the king,” Karigan said, “like me.”

  “I know the story of what it was like when you traveled through North five years ago,” Estral replied, “but this time you don’t have brigands or Shawdell the Eletian pursuing you.”

  “We have him.” Karigan pointed accusingly at Enver. He looked ever more uncomfortable.

  “He hasn’t tried to kill you, has he?”

  “Not yet,” Karigan muttered.

  “Now you’re just being ridiculous.” When Karigan didn’t respond, Estral continued, “It’s not like we have to stay. In fact, you won’t even have to go into town with me. I just want to ask around to see if my father’s been through there.”

  Karigan snorted and stood by the fireplace with her hands on her hips, no longer interested in her porridge. “As if the people of North like being questioned. You’ve never been there, so you don’t know what it’s like. You’d be prey by yourself.”

  “Maybe you could disguise yourself,” Estral suggested. “Conceal that you’re a Green Rider.”

  “I can’t,” Karigan said. “Not without good reason.”

  “But you did last time.”

  “I wasn’t a Green Rider back then. Not that I knew of, in any case.”

  Estral’s brightness looked to be waning. “Then I’ll go alone.”

  “No.”

  “Sometimes you are just so pig-headed!”

  “You’re the one who brought the whole thing up.”

  “Look,” Estral said, “I know there is usually a minstrel assigned to North. He or she might know something of my father.”

  Karigan, as much as she hated to admit it, knew Estral was right, for she’d met a Selium minstrel there herself, who had known what was going on in the town. She also hated that she felt so intimidated, but the experience of having a mob of angry townsfolk turn against her was not easily forgotten. The Anti-Monarchy Society had been quiet for years, so at least they would not be stirring the pot to boiling. Still, the townsfolk would not take kindly to her presence as a representative of the king.

  “What does Enver think?” Estral asked.

  He put up his hands as though to deflect her question. “I am not meddling.”

  Karigan laughed in dark amusement.

  Estral raised an eyebrow at her. “Did I miss something last night?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “Well, then,” Estral said, “it is just between you and me.”

  Karigan frowned.

  “North is not far from our path,” Enver ventured.

  “I thought you weren’t meddling,” Karigan shot back.

  He shrugged. “I believed it was worth mentioning.”

  “If the king told you to go to North,” Estral said, “would you hesitate?”

  “You are not the king,” Karigan replied.

  “I know, but would you?”

  “No, of course I would not hesitate. Not for my king. I can’t refuse.”

  “If you were going at the king’s behest, would you be afraid?”

  Karigan clenched her teeth. “I wouldn’t like it, but I would do it. Without question.”

  Estral sipped her tea, the intensity gone from her. “Karigan, I’ve got to go into North with or without you.”

  “You won’t get far if I wrap you up in your bedroll and tie you to Coda’s back.”

  “You’re being ridiculous again.”

  “Am I?”

  “Lady Estral,” Enver said, “I’ll go with you.”

  “You’re meddling,” Karigan accused.

  “Not with you,” Estral pointed out. “Enver and I will go into North while you sulk somewhere else.”

  Karigan treated them to a round of swearing, concluding they were the asses of donkeys, and worse, before stomping out of the cabin and slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed throug
h the woods. Mara, were she there, would call her crotchety.

  She also knew Estral was right. They needed to go to North to find out if Lord Fiori had passed that way. If there was in fact a Selium minstrel assigned to one of the inns there and Lord Fiori had traveled through, there was little question he’d have been marked by the minstrel.

  As much as Karigan disliked the idea of going into North, she had been instructed to assist Estral as she could. By the king. So in a way, it was an order from him to go into North. She sighed in resignation. It wasn’t like she didn’t want Estral to find her father; she absolutely did. And she certainly would never allow her to go into North alone. Not even with Enver. She couldn’t imagine the reception the folk of North would give an Eletian. She loosed another long, drawn-out sigh.

  “Meep.”

  “What?” She looked around to see what creature had made so unexpected a noise.

  “Prrrt.”

  Down at the bottom of the steps, an orange tabby cat sat on his haunches with his tail wrapped around his feet.

  “Hello,” Karigan said. “What are you doing out in these woods?”

  The cat cocked his head as he stared at her. She crouched and put her hand out, and he climbed the steps to rub against it, purring loudly.

  “Friendly,” she murmured. “Do you live near here?”

  The cat, of course, did not answer. He wended around her legs and scratched on the door. Surprised, she opened it. Inside she found Estral and Enver going over a map, no doubt planning their route into North. The cat immediately trotted to Estral, who occupied the chair, and jumped onto the table and the map spread upon it.

  “What?” Estral said in surprise.

  “Meep.” The cat was nose-to-nose with her, and started sniffing her face.

  Estral stroked his cheek. “Where did he come from?”

  “I don’t know,” Karigan replied. “He was just suddenly there. He must live nearby.”

  Enver had an odd look in his eye as he gazed at the cat, but offered nothing, not even surprise.

  “He sure seems to like you,” Karigan told Estral.

  “Well, what do you expect? He’s a nice kitty with good taste,” she said. “And he has majestic white whiskers. Yes, you do, you little sweetie.”

  “Prrrt.”

  For gods’ sake, Karigan thought. She cleared her throat. “I’ve decided to accompany you to North.”

  Estral smiled as if she’d known all along that she would.

  Karigan narrowed her eyes. “I am going so I can keep you two out of trouble.” As if she were any good at keeping herself out of trouble. It would take several days for them to reach North. Maybe Estral would change her mind about going there in the meantime, but by the look of triumph on her face, she doubted it.

  “Meep,” the cat said.

  GETTING BACK IN THE SADDLE

  “You are as poor a patient as my predecessors made you out to be in their reports,” said Master Mender Vanlynn.

  This particular statement, Laren thought, in misery, was not helping. Her shoulder was back in its socket, the pain greatly diminished, but her whole body felt like it had been trampled by a herd of horses. She sat hunched on Vanlynn’s exam table, her shoulder and arm tightly bound to her body to prevent the joint from shifting and causing additional tearing and pain.

  Vanlynn shook her head; her eyes crinkled as she gazed at Laren. “This is not a first for you, either.”

  “No,” Laren mumbled.

  “Not surprising.”

  Laren glanced sharply at her and instantly regretted the move, for her neck was not feeling well either.

  Vanlynn was not at all cowed by her patient’s temper. “Captain, once you have dislocated your shoulder, it makes it more susceptible to recurrence.”

  “It was years ago, the first time.”

  Vanlynn shrugged. “Well, you have my instructions, the willowbark tea, and the ice. Your concussion is mild, but I recommend you rest for a few days.”

  That was not very likely, Laren thought.

  Vanlynn, as if reading her mind, looked askance at her. “You are fortunate it’s not worse. I’ll send Ben to look in on you later. Do you need assistance to return to your quarters?”

  “No, thank you.” Laren slid off the table and Vanlynn helped her into her coat, loosely draping the left side over her injured shoulder.

  Laren tottered out of the mending wing, thinking maybe she’d been a little too hasty to decline help. It was not so very long ago she’d blacked out and vomited with the pain after the fall, and she had only made it to Vanlynn’s exam room because Hep and his assistant had half-carried her. But, Zachary was scheduled for his public audience today, and she was determined to be at his side as usual.

  As she slowly descended the stairs, willing the vertigo to go away, she figured Vanlynn was right, that she could have been much worse off. Yes, she had broken fence rails when she went flying off Loon, but snowdrifts had buffered her fall. She could have broken bones, even her neck. She could have gotten a more severe concussion.

  Luckily, she injured her left shoulder and not her right. She’d be able to write and do the things she had always done with her right hand. Or, maybe that was not so lucky, considering the number of reports that needed writing. She smiled a little thinking that she’d get out of Gresia’s arms training sessions.

  When finally she reached the main hall, she paused to rest and gather herself for the trudge to the throne room. She wouldn’t be late. The hurrying to-and-fro motion of the people in the main hall, however, did not help her vertigo and she fought to keep her stomach down. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead.

  “Ah, Captain, there you are.”

  Les Tallman, one of the king’s chief advisors and the head of the Weapons, strode up to her. He peered appraisingly at her.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  “It’s nothing. Just a riding mishap.”

  To his credit, he did not dispute her claim of it being “nothing,” but by his skeptical expression, she could tell he’d formed a contrary opinion on the matter.

  “Are you on your way to audience?” she asked.

  “Yes, I was hoping to intercept you to advise you that the king will not be present.”

  “What?” He’d been choosing not to attend meetings of late, but he never missed public audiences.

  “He has ordered us to oversee the audience, and has commended to us his authority to make judgments in the cases presented to us.”

  There was nothing especially egregious about this, except that Zachary was very hands-on and his subjects were accustomed to seeing him on audience day. It was important for the citizens of Sacoridia to actually see the man who ruled over them and tell him their concerns.

  “Did he give you a reason?” Laren asked.

  “The same as before. He wants to be with his queen.”

  Laren was pleased Zachary had suddenly become so devoted to Estora, but he hadn’t left her side in days.

  “My mother,” Les Tallman said, “was a midwife, and she used to say that there were some expectant fathers who’d start nesting during a pregnancy. Perhaps our king is doing just that.”

  “Perhaps,” Laren mumbled. She didn’t know what to think of Zachary’s behavior. Perhaps he would return to his duties when he needed a break from his “nesting.”

  “Captain, if you don’t mind my saying, you should probably sit this audience out. You’re looking rather peaked. Castellan Javien and I can handle it.”

  She was about to protest, but thought better of it. She was feeling rather “peaked,” and she had something else in mind that she needed to do before too much time elapsed. If she hadn’t been in such pain and blacking out earlier, she would have attended to it immediately.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I believe I will take the opportun
ity to finish a project.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but went on his way toward the throne room.

  • • •

  When she reached Rider stables, she faced the stalls of Bluebird and Loon. They stared back at her, then seemed to exchange some comment between them with whickers and shakes of their heads.

  “Two peas in a pod, aren’t you,” she muttered.

  They both looked away as if ashamed. Loon was clearly more nervous, tossing his head, and as well he should be. Messenger horses were more apt to protect their Riders than allow them to get hurt, but Loon was young and inexperienced, just as Bluebird had once been.

  “Best we get on with this.”

  Anna had tossed and turned during the night, trying to come to a decision, trying to screw up her courage. When she finally rose in the morning, she was resolved. She wanted to be more than just an ash girl, even more than an ash girl who served the queen.

  Her resolve got her through breakfast, through her morning duties, and out of the castle. However, as she walked across castle grounds, her skirts skimming snow, her step faltered. Who did she think she was? She had no courage. She’d never been anywhere. She’d always been a servant. Why did she think she could be anything else?

  Doggedly, she put one foot in front of the other and pushed forward against the invisible force that wanted her to turn back, to give up.

  It would be easier to speak to Rider Mara, Rider Daro, or any of the others, but no, she had decided she needed to go right to the captain. As she approached officers quarters, her heart pummeled the inside of her chest and her legs shook. She could just forget this whole idea, just turn around and go back. Who did she think she was? But she had come this far.

  She stepped up to the captain’s door and raised her hand to knock when someone cleared his throat. She whirled as if she’d been caught filching a tart from the kitchens.

  “Looking for Captain Mapstone?” It was Lieutenant Connly striding by on the path.

  “Yes.” She squeaked the word.

  He did not appear to be fazed by her presence there, and he actually smiled. “You might try Rider stables. I saw her heading in that direction a short while ago.”