Alton shrugged. “I saw him from a distance, but I’ve heard that the Eletians are planning to leave their seclusion. With all the groundmite activity, I’m not surprised.”
Karigan sucked on a piece of straw. The dusty haze of the stable softened Alton’s features. “But why come to Sacoridia and not, say, Rhovanny?”
“Why not?” Alton countered.
Why not. Karigan considered, but she could find no reason why the Eletian would have chosen one kingdom over the other, except that Sacoridia was directly south of the mysterious Elt Wood. Whatever the case, the Eletian’s arrival had taken the focus off her. Maybe they would forget about her completely and she could go home.
A bell clanged, cutting off further discussion.
“Rider coming!” Mel dropped her pitchfork and sprinted from the dark stable, Alton on her heels. Karigan followed more slowly.
A stablehand rang the bell which was mounted on the outside of the building. A Rider galloped up the hill trailing a cloud of dust, and dismounted as his horse skidded to a halt. Alton grabbed the horse’s reins, and without a word, the Green Rider strode away toward the castle with message satchel in hand.
“Got to fetch a fresh horse,” the stablehand said, “in case he’s gotta go out again.”
Alton and the stablehand ducked inside to tack another horse. Mel loosened the girth on the messenger’s puffing horse, and proceeded to walk him in a large circle to help cool him down.
“I wonder what’s so important,” Karigan said, keeping step with Mel.
“Not much, I’d say,” the girl replied. “If it was real important, he would have ridden right up to the castle. Also, he walked fast, but didn’t run toward the castle.”
“Oh.”
“I’m real used to how things work here,” Mel said. “So is Alton.”
“When does he ride?”
Mel slapped the neck of the sweaty horse and whispered something to his flickering ears. “He doesn’t.”
“What?”
“Alton doesn’t. His parents won’t permit it. Pure D’Yer blood, you know. Rubs him like a saddle sore to see everyone else ride while he sits here.”
“But why is he a Rider in the first place?”
“The brooch accepted him.”
“Accepted him?”
“Yep. The brooches are attracted to people who will be able to use them. People who have talents.” Here Mel faltered, as if she was not sure how it worked herself.
Karigan nodded slowly, recalling a conversation in the parlor of the Berry sisters. The brooch has accepted you, Miss Bay had said. It wouldn’t permit you to wear it if it didn’t perceive you as a Green Rider.
“And what talent does Alton have?”
“No one knows. He’s never been on a ride, so he hasn’t found out.”
Karigan fingered her brooch. Had the brooch accepted her for her talents, or by default because its previous owner had died and willed it to accept her? Maybe it was because she was the only one around stupid enough to take it.
“Karigan?” Captain Mapstone had walked up to the stable as quiet as a Weapon. She stood in the entrance, leaning against the doorway. “The king will see you now.”
The captain insisted that she change immediately, saying that what she presently wore was covered with too much horse dust, and that would not be acceptable in front of the king. Karigan dressed in the full uniform of a Green Rider, her black boots highly polished, collar stiffened and wrapped with a black stock, and gauntlets folded over her belt. The winged horse brooch was clasped to her shortcoat, no matter that the king wouldn’t even be able to see it. All that was missing from her ensemble was the saber.
The uniform was pressed with razor-sharp creases, and formally cut. Captain Mapstone, Karigan decided, must be trying to make some sort of point by having her wear it. It was painfully uncomfortable, not in the way it felt on her, but in the way she was certain everyone who looked at her would see through her, as if she tried to pass herself off as someone she was not. A fraud. Of course, she had worn the field uniform before, but that was different. All of her clothes were rags, and it was either wear green, or wear nothing at all.
“I don’t see why I have to wear this,” Karigan said. She followed slightly behind the captain as they passed through the castle courtyard. She avoided the glances of other folk, though in truth, most did not notice her. She was one uniformed commoner in the midst of many. A few Green Riders hastening to and fro, however, caught her eye and smiled encouragingly.
“Appearance is nearly everything in court,” Captain Mapstone said. “The first time the king saw you, you had just arrived under remarkable circumstances which prevented you from appearing polished. Of course, he expects that when a message is being delivered, but at other times, a professional appearance is in order.”
Karigan wanted to protest that she was not a professional Green Rider, but already they were in the throne room and she was looking down the chamber where a solitary man sat in an ornate chair, a dog at his feet. No counselors were in attendance, as the captain had desired, though the everpresent Weapons hugged the shadows.
As she started toward the king, the captain at her side, the white Hillander terrier trotted down the runner wagging his short tail. He jumped up on Karigan in greeting, and forgetting where she was, she bent down to pat him on the head. The captain nudged her and they proceeded forward, passing through columns of sunlight that streamed through the west side windows. The dog ran alongside them.