The High King's Tomb
Page 31
“Hello,” Karigan said in surprise. It was unusual for the captain to see off any of her Riders. Usually she was too busy attending the king or sitting in on meetings.
The captain dusted her hands off on her trousers. “Good morning!”
“His hooves all right?” Karigan stroked the big chestnut’s nose and he bobbed his head.
“Perfect. He’s in fine fettle, and seems anxious for his journey to begin. Speaking of which…” And the captain smiled. “You wouldn’t happen to have some space to spare in one of your saddlebags, would you?”
Karigan did not, for she had packed extra layers of clothes to contend with the colder weather, but she’d make room, for she could guess why the captain asked.
“Certainly,” she said.
The captain’s smile brightened. “Wonderful.” She walked over to a bale of hay sitting against the wall and picked up a package bound in paper and string, as well as a message satchel. “Just a few things for Melry. Er, don’t get it too near a campfire—there’s some chocolate in it from Master Gruntler’s.”
Karigan chuckled. Melry, or Mel as the captain’s adopted daughter preferred to be called, would be thrilled. Master Gruntler was the premier confectioner in Sacor City, and Mel often spent any currency she earned in his shop. Currently, Mel was attending Selium, and Karigan would be sure to visit with her there. She took the package from the captain and rummaged through one of her saddlebags to make room. She then hitched the bulging pouches to Condor’s saddle and lashed on her bedroll.
The captain handed her the message satchel. The leather was well scarred and worn, but the emblem of the winged horse punched into its flap remained unmarred. Karigan crossed the strap over her shoulder so that the pouch fell comfortably against her right hip, opposite her saber.
“There’s a letter for Melry in the satchel,” the captain told her, “as well as the messages for lords Fiori and Mirwell, and the certificate of purchase for horses, which you will present to Damian Frost. Along your journey, Arms Master Gresia has asked that you run through some sword exercises with Fergal.”
Karigan nodded.
“He’s also written and mathematical exercises to keep him occupied during the evenings. Ty says he’s coming along fine, but he should keep practicing. He’d like you to assist as you can.”
Karigan resisted the impulse to sigh. While she knew this would be a training journey for Fergal, she hadn’t expected to play the role of instructor. She reminded herself that most Riders, unlike herself, came to the messenger service without an education of any kind. If they were to bear the king’s messages, they needed to learn courtly etiquette; to read, write, and figure; and to ride and fight. It was a lot to learn all at once, and Karigan had been fortunate to have good schooling behind her when she had finally answered the call. As she thought about it, it occurred to her that she knew nothing of Fergal’s background, not even where he was from. She supposed she now had time to find out.
“Any questions?” the captain asked.
Karigan mulled it over for a moment. “I don’t think so, but…”
“But?”
“If something should happen, if Mornhavon should return and magic were to become unreliable again…” The thoughts ran continuously in the back of her mind. When would he return? What would they do?
“The king and I trust your judgment, Karigan. If something does go awry, whether it’s Mornhavon or something else entirely, and you feel it necessary to abort your mission and return, we will support your decision. Never fear that.”
Karigan nodded, pleased by the implicit trust in her words. She unhitched Condor from the cross-ties and started to lead him out when the captain stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“One more thing. I realize you’ve been involved closely with all that has happened with the wall and Blackveil, but I don’t want you to think of it as your personal responsibility. You’ve done this kingdom an astonishing service by securing us the time to prepare for Mornhavon’s return. Free your heart of the weight of such concerns. If Mornhavon returns, he returns, and we will cope with it best as we can. In the meantime, you are a Green Rider with tasks set before her. Think only of those tasks, for others are shouldering the responsibility of coping with the threat Mornhavon poses.”
It was an unusual speech from the captain, and only after hearing it did Karigan realize how much of the problem of Mornhavon and ending the threat he represented she had taken upon herself. The captain’s words reassured her she wasn’t alone, easing the burden. She could be an ordinary Green Rider for once with delivering messages as her sole duty. And looking after Fergal, of course.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It was never really yours to worry about in the first place—it’s the responsibility of your king and his advisors. Trust me, one day when you’re an officer, you’ll have more than enough to worry about.”
Karigan couldn’t tell from the captain’s expression whether or not she was joking. It had never even occurred to her to contemplate becoming an officer…
“You’d better get going,” the captain said, gazing through the stable doors. “Fergal is mounted and looks ready to ride off without you.”
Karigan led Condor outside where, indeed, Fergal sat astride Sunny, and in his eagerness, was trotting her around in circles.
“Leg up?” the captain offered.
The captain dusted her hands off on her trousers. “Good morning!”
“His hooves all right?” Karigan stroked the big chestnut’s nose and he bobbed his head.
“Perfect. He’s in fine fettle, and seems anxious for his journey to begin. Speaking of which…” And the captain smiled. “You wouldn’t happen to have some space to spare in one of your saddlebags, would you?”
Karigan did not, for she had packed extra layers of clothes to contend with the colder weather, but she’d make room, for she could guess why the captain asked.
“Certainly,” she said.
The captain’s smile brightened. “Wonderful.” She walked over to a bale of hay sitting against the wall and picked up a package bound in paper and string, as well as a message satchel. “Just a few things for Melry. Er, don’t get it too near a campfire—there’s some chocolate in it from Master Gruntler’s.”
Karigan chuckled. Melry, or Mel as the captain’s adopted daughter preferred to be called, would be thrilled. Master Gruntler was the premier confectioner in Sacor City, and Mel often spent any currency she earned in his shop. Currently, Mel was attending Selium, and Karigan would be sure to visit with her there. She took the package from the captain and rummaged through one of her saddlebags to make room. She then hitched the bulging pouches to Condor’s saddle and lashed on her bedroll.
The captain handed her the message satchel. The leather was well scarred and worn, but the emblem of the winged horse punched into its flap remained unmarred. Karigan crossed the strap over her shoulder so that the pouch fell comfortably against her right hip, opposite her saber.
“There’s a letter for Melry in the satchel,” the captain told her, “as well as the messages for lords Fiori and Mirwell, and the certificate of purchase for horses, which you will present to Damian Frost. Along your journey, Arms Master Gresia has asked that you run through some sword exercises with Fergal.”
Karigan nodded.
“He’s also written and mathematical exercises to keep him occupied during the evenings. Ty says he’s coming along fine, but he should keep practicing. He’d like you to assist as you can.”
Karigan resisted the impulse to sigh. While she knew this would be a training journey for Fergal, she hadn’t expected to play the role of instructor. She reminded herself that most Riders, unlike herself, came to the messenger service without an education of any kind. If they were to bear the king’s messages, they needed to learn courtly etiquette; to read, write, and figure; and to ride and fight. It was a lot to learn all at once, and Karigan had been fortunate to have good schooling behind her when she had finally answered the call. As she thought about it, it occurred to her that she knew nothing of Fergal’s background, not even where he was from. She supposed she now had time to find out.
“Any questions?” the captain asked.
Karigan mulled it over for a moment. “I don’t think so, but…”
“But?”
“If something should happen, if Mornhavon should return and magic were to become unreliable again…” The thoughts ran continuously in the back of her mind. When would he return? What would they do?
“The king and I trust your judgment, Karigan. If something does go awry, whether it’s Mornhavon or something else entirely, and you feel it necessary to abort your mission and return, we will support your decision. Never fear that.”
Karigan nodded, pleased by the implicit trust in her words. She unhitched Condor from the cross-ties and started to lead him out when the captain stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“One more thing. I realize you’ve been involved closely with all that has happened with the wall and Blackveil, but I don’t want you to think of it as your personal responsibility. You’ve done this kingdom an astonishing service by securing us the time to prepare for Mornhavon’s return. Free your heart of the weight of such concerns. If Mornhavon returns, he returns, and we will cope with it best as we can. In the meantime, you are a Green Rider with tasks set before her. Think only of those tasks, for others are shouldering the responsibility of coping with the threat Mornhavon poses.”
It was an unusual speech from the captain, and only after hearing it did Karigan realize how much of the problem of Mornhavon and ending the threat he represented she had taken upon herself. The captain’s words reassured her she wasn’t alone, easing the burden. She could be an ordinary Green Rider for once with delivering messages as her sole duty. And looking after Fergal, of course.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It was never really yours to worry about in the first place—it’s the responsibility of your king and his advisors. Trust me, one day when you’re an officer, you’ll have more than enough to worry about.”
Karigan couldn’t tell from the captain’s expression whether or not she was joking. It had never even occurred to her to contemplate becoming an officer…
“You’d better get going,” the captain said, gazing through the stable doors. “Fergal is mounted and looks ready to ride off without you.”
Karigan led Condor outside where, indeed, Fergal sat astride Sunny, and in his eagerness, was trotting her around in circles.
“Leg up?” the captain offered.
