Blackveil (43 page)
The vision pulled back revealing the armored figure mounted on a great black horse. She knew the stallion—he was the steed of the god of death the heathen Sacoridians worshipped. Black as the charcoal of her fire he was, demon spawn. He pranced and snorted, his rider armed with a lance and shield. This was not, she thought, the death god who rode the stallion, but some lesser avatar. Even so, Grandmother felt the threat of the pair, felt the hairs stand on the back of her neck.
Then the vision was gone. The fire was a normal fire, and she discerned her followers moving about the cave and chatting. The cold returned to her bones. Lala tentatively touched her arm.
“Yes,” Grandmother said, her voice trembling. “I saw something. Something evil.” The masked entity, who was also the demon steed’s rider, was a deceiver. A spy. “An enemy sent up from hell to defeat us in God’s work. A Dark Angel.”
ADVICE AND BLESSINGS
T
he day after the masquerade, Tegan took it upon herself to return the costume of Mad Queen Oddacious to Leadora Theadles at the Magnificent. Karigan was glad to see the thing go.
he day after the masquerade, Tegan took it upon herself to return the costume of Mad Queen Oddacious to Leadora Theadles at the Magnificent. Karigan was glad to see the thing go.
On this, the eve of their departure for the wall, and thence Blackveil, the members of the expedition were given the day to use as they would to make final preparations, perhaps visit with family or spend time in prayer at the chapel of the moon.
For Karigan’s part, she checked and rechecked her gear, and having no family in the city to visit or any inclination to pray, she spent time with Condor grooming him, working out tangles in his mane and tail. When she finished, she stroked his nose and whispered nonsense to him, and treated him to a handful of oats.
“Well, he’s looking fine.”
Karigan turned to find Elgin Foxsmith leaning on the stall door. “A little bit rangy though,” she replied. “He’s shedding quite a bit.” She toed a clump of chestnut hair around the bedding of the stall.
“True enough. Killdeer is, too. Enough to stuff a mattress.” He chuckled. “So how are you feeling about your journey?”
Karigan paused her stroking of Condor until he nudged her shoulder for more. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “Ready to go, I guess.”
“That all?”
“Anxious. I’ve been kept too busy to think about it, really.”
Elgin nodded. “Probably a good thing.”
And probably on purpose. It would not do any good, Karigan reflected, if the members of the expedition had too much time to worry and froze up with fear.
“You’ll do just fine,” Elgin said. “You know what you’re getting into. That bugger, Yates, though, I’m not so sure. Maybe his practical jokes will scare off any of Blackveil’s nasties.”
“Uh oh,” Karigan said. “Did he ... ?”
“Short sheet my bed? Oh, yes, the rascal, and not only that. He mixed pepper in with my jar of tea leaves.” He scowled.
“Oh, dear,” Karigan said.
“Claims he does it to all the new Riders. The short sheeting, anyway.”
“But you’re not—”
“New? I’m not even a Rider at that. No, not for many a year.”
Elgin had become enough of a presence around the Rider wing that Karigan forgot he possessed no brooch. He had not returned to Sacor City to answer the Rider call, but had come at Captain Mapstone’s request for help.
“You’ll keep an eye out for Yates, then?” Elgin asked.
“I’ll do my best.”
Elgin nodded. “Almost wish I was going, especially if it would spare one of you young Riders, but it’s not my lot.”
There was that great sadness behind his words, and Karigan wondered again what had transpired during the veteran’s time as a Rider to make it so. Before she could question him, however, several of the new Riders led in horses from the day’s riding lesson. Condor whickered a greeting to the newcomers, rousing other horses to neighing and carrying on. Elgin’s donkey, Bucket, kicked the wall of his stall.
Elgin watched the young Riders with a keen look in his eye. “You are going into the heart of a nightmare,” he said. “You, Yates, and Lynx. You’ve got to trust one another. Can’t speak for the others going with you, but Riders are different. It is how we are, and it’s what I’m trying to instill in these young ones.” He paused, then gazed directly at Karigan. “It is in my experience that most folks don’t have your best interests in mind, even if they’re on the same side. But with Riders? That’s different. You remember that.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Good. Now I must see these youngsters to their geography lessons.”
Abruptly Elgin left her, crossing the stable floor with his limping stride. He began to chivvy the Riders to move smart or they’d be late. Karigan pressed her cheek against Condor’s warm, smooth neck.
It was true, she thought. She could trust any of her fellow Riders with her life. Elgin was also right about those outside the messenger service not having her best interests in mind. Spending time at the castle and among its courtiers, she knew there were some who would smile at you one moment and slit your throat the next if they thought it would bring them some advantage. It appeared to be a game among many courtiers, one in which there was little regard for how the lives and reputations of others might suffer.
She shrugged, thinking that once she was in Blackveil the intrigues of the court would be the least of her worries.
As Elgin ushered the last of his charges out of the stables, Yates sauntered in. When he spotted Karigan, he headed right for her.
“Aren’t you the somber one,” he said.
“Somber?”
“My wee wittle Karwigan so sad wooking.” He curled his bottom lip down and made a sorrowful face.
Karigan sighed. “I just had a conversation with Elgin.”
“Oh, that’ll do it.”
“Be nice! He was telling me to look after you, if you must know.”
“Hah! He told me the same about you.”
Karigan wasn’t surprised. Lynx had probably gotten a talking to, as well.
“I’m pretty sure,” she said, “he’s afraid you’re going to put pinecones or something in the bedding of the Eletians.”
“Now there’s a thought,” Yates murmured. Karigan could almost see the gears and shifts of his mind in motion. She wouldn’t put it past him to try something so absurd.
“But for now,” he said, “I’m sick of all the doom and gloom. If Dale were here, she’d organize a party. Hey! That’s not a bad idea!”
By evening it was clear Yates’ idea had taken hold, for all the Riders in residence, including Captain Mapstone, attended what amounted to a barn party. He’d weaseled food from the cooks in the castle kitchen and sent Fergal and Garth to the Cock and Hen for a keg of ale. It turned out that a couple of the new Riders were not half bad on fiddle and pipe, so the center of the stable turned into a dance floor.
Even Karigan joined in, stomping her feet as she whirled from hand to hand in a country dance as old as the land. The dancing was not fancy, nor were the kitchen’s leftovers or the ale, but this party exceeded the masquerade ball by miles. It was good honest fun with people who were her
friends.
There was no deception here; no one wore masks.
friends.
There was no deception here; no one wore masks.
The horses did not appear to mind the intrusion of all their Riders in their normally sedate environs, and in fact they watched the proceedings with ears alert, some bobbing their heads and whinnying.
After one last vigorous dance, Karigan breathlessly sank into a quiet corner with the dregs of her cup of ale and watched as her friends shifted into another breakneck reel. Tegan and Garth tore up the floor with the speed of their footwork. Yates showed off by doing a backflip off a bale of hay before heading back to the keg for more ale. He would not, she thought, be very happy to get in the saddle early tomorrow morning.
Meanwhile, Fergal coaxed shy Merla into dancing with him. Others stood around the edges clapping to the beat or trying to carry on hollered conversations. In an opposite corner, Captain Mapstone stood with Elgin, laughing at some joke. Karigan could not remember the last time she had seen such joy among her friends.
She smiled. She might not bear blood kinship to any of them, but they were family nonetheless. Her family. They mourned together and they celebrated together, and as Elgin had said earlier, she could rely on them for anything.
But now she thought it time she went to bed. She didn’t want to start her journey unrested. And she wanted to avoid good-byes. So she slipped out of the stable into the cold, dark night, her smile fading. She glanced over her shoulder as she strode away, watching her friends through the doorway dancing and drinking in the glow of lantern light. She thrust her hands into her pockets and quickened her pace, turning her back on it all. Soon the music and laughter faded behind her, and she wondered if she would ever see any of them again.
O
n the eve of the company’s departure for Blackveil, Richmont Spane stood with Gillard Ardmont, whom he’d hand-picked for the expedition, just outside the suite of rooms belonging to Lord and Lady Coutre and their daughters. The forester, in his buckskin and with his weathered features, looked out of place in the refined surroundings of the aristocratic wing.
n the eve of the company’s departure for Blackveil, Richmont Spane stood with Gillard Ardmont, whom he’d hand-picked for the expedition, just outside the suite of rooms belonging to Lord and Lady Coutre and their daughters. The forester, in his buckskin and with his weathered features, looked out of place in the refined surroundings of the aristocratic wing.
“You are a good man, Ard,” Richmont said, placing his hand on the forester’s thick shoulder.
Ard had been one among many servants of Clan Coutre that had accompanied Lord and Lady Coutre to Sacor City following the signing of the marriage contract with King Zachary. Lord Coutre’s party had chosen the overland route from Coutre Province, which had required the services of the forester.
Richmont had helped Ard’s family in the past, and in return, Ard was extremely grateful and loyal to the clan, and particularly devoted to Estora. Richmont had gotten Lord Coutre to convince King Zachary and his advisors that Ard should join the mission to represent the interests of the future queen. He’d met little resistance. It meant they did not have to choose another of their own, and Ard’s forestry skills would be a welcome asset to the company.
Richmont, of course, had his own agenda for wanting Ard to join the company.
“I live to serve the clan,” Ard replied.
He was a humble man, Ard, and Richmont liked that about him. Ard had no family, only his commitment to the clan. He’d been a friendly presence in Estora’s girlhood, showing her the ways of gardens and woods. Estora, who was kind to those who served her, had regarded Ard as a sort of wise and rustic uncle, and when she was little she’d hold his hand as they walked garden paths and he told her the secret tales of roses, ferns, and oaks.
Ard, Richmont knew, was not only devoted to Estora, but worshipped her.
“It is a lot we are asking of you,” Richmont said, “to go into that wretched place.”
“The forest does not scare me, though maybe it should.”
“You were always a fearless one. But do not forget your other task—to ensure that the threat to Lady Estora’s marriage is eliminated. Do you still feel up to this?”
“I do. I owe you and the lady much.”
“Good man, good man. Now then, the lady would like to give you her own personal blessing on the venture. Before we go in, however, I want you to know I’ve set aside fifty acres of my own estate that will be yours upon the successful completion of your mission.”
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