No, Karigan thought, she didn’t, but then she gave them a half-smile. “Death is honor?”
THE SWORDMASTER’S PATRON
“It is an intriguing thought,” Laren said as she walked beside her king in a corridor of the royal wing. The gazes of portrait subjects looked out at them, though that of Queen Isen had been removed for repair. Did Zachary feel the weight of their watching eyes, the judgment of his ancestors whenever he walked these corridors? They strolled at a leisurely pace, two Hillander terriers cavorting around them, and the Weapon Ellen following at a discreet distance. Gone for the evening was Zachary’s usual entourage of courtiers, advisors, and personnel. It was a rare moment for her to speak privately with him.
“I have my misgivings,” he replied.
“Why? Imagine finding and having contact with a people thought long extinct. Imagine that they might ally themselves with us against Second Empire.”
Zachary did not reply at first, but walked on. He looked a little tired to her. Not terribly, but she could see it around his eyes, as if he’d been keeping long nights. His movements, though, were as sure and steady as ever, showing no other signs of exhaustion.
“Why would the p’ehdrose align themselves with us after they have hidden themselves for so long?” he asked. “It strikes me as though they have no wish to be found.”
It had come to their attention, during the restoration of the great stained glass dome that arched over the records room, that during the Long War, there had been more than just Eletians, Rhovans, and a smattering of the other known realms that had fought Mornhavon the Black and his Arcosians. The League had been represented as a three-fold leaf. Only, when the stained glass dome was cleaned, removing centuries of accumulated grime, they learned that it was actually a four-fold leaf, and one of the panels revealed that what they thought had been horsemen were actually the half-man, half-moose people that were the p’ehdrosians.
“You may have a point,” Laren replied, “but we won’t know until we ask, will we?”
They emerged onto a gallery that overlooked the main castle hall. Zachary leaned over the balustrade, watching his people, unaware of their king’s presence, move freely about down below. His terriers sat at his feet.
“The Eletians promised a guide if we furnished one of our own people,” he said.
“Just one?”
“Yes. They figured two people could move more quickly and inconspicuously than a larger group into the northlands and evade Second Empire.”
“Makes sense,” Laren replied.
He straightened and gazed hard at her. “Are you so ready to send a Rider on such a whimsical endeavor? Even the Eletians cannot say if the p’ehdrose truly still exist or, if so, exactly where.”
“One of my Riders?”
“Their request,” he said, “not my idea, though it does hold a certain logic.”
“A messenger to carry your greetings and suggestion of an alliance.”
“Yes,” he replied, “to serve as an ambassador of sorts.”
“And the Eletians requested a Green Rider?”
“Not just requested, but require. They have a specific one in mind.”
“Karigan,” she murmured.
“Who else?” His smile was sardonic.
Who else, indeed. It had been an easy guess, for of all the Sacoridians they could choose from, it was Karigan with whom they’d had the most contact. Aside from their wishes, she was a good choice anyway, a very able Rider who had seen and done much. Plus, her status as a knight of the realm would give her more weight in dealing with the p’ehdrose from a diplomatic standpoint.
“She said she saw p’ehdrose,” Laren murmured, “in the future time, stuffed and on display in a museum.”
“Yes, lending credence to their existence. The Eletians seem keen to seek out the p’ehdrose, and as our alliance with Eletia is still tentative, I’d prefer not to disappoint them.”
Laren could not discern what he thought of Karigan going north with an Eletian guide in search of legendary p’ehdrosians, for he kept his expression schooled. Was he loath to send her away after she had only so recently returned? Returned from being presumed dead? Or, did he think it would be a means of keeping her safely out of the way as they engaged in conflict with Second Empire? Both, she thought.
At the sound of many boots hammering on flagstone below, they both peered down at a large group of Weapons crossing the main hall. There was one person in green in their midst who was, unmistakably, the subject of their conversation.
“What is that about?” she demanded.
There was a slight smile on Zachary’s face. “The first Green Rider swordmaster since Gwyer Warhein, if our history is correct.”
Laren stared at him. “Why didn’t anyone tell me she had been made a swordmaster?”
“I did not know until just now. See the sword?”
Laren looked again just before Karigan and the Weapons disappeared from view. She carried a longsword.
“I did know they were testing her tonight, though I think we had already settled the question of whether or not she was swordmaster quality due to all she has done on behalf of the realm. The test, however, was needed to ensure we were correct about her skills, and to mark the occasion. You should also be made aware that the Weapons have chosen to formalize her status as an honorary Weapon.”
Laren was aghast. “I would like to know why I was not informed. She is my Rider.”