He set his fork down and leaned back into his chair, gauging her. “Is it the tale you’ve to tell me that’s bothering you?”
“Yes,” she lied.
“You must forgive my insensitivity for making you wait all this time, but I dared not delay the audience. It was a difficult position I imposed on you, and I hoped a respite would—”
One should not interrupt a king, but Karigan did. “Please, it’s all right. A little wait will not change my tale.”
“I would like to hear it now, then.”
Karigan took a sip of wine. This was not going to be easy. “First I need to tell you I’ve—I’ve visited with, the First Rider.”
The king raised both eyebrows in surprise, but said nothing so she might continue and explain.
And she did, just as she had with Mara, starting from the beginning.
“Extraordinary,” the king murmured when she paused, his eyes wide.
Karigan continued with her experiences at Watch Hill. When she finished that part of the tale, the king slumped in his chair with his chin on his hand, his expression incredulous.
“When you told me you had an ‘eventful’ message errand, I wasn’t expecting it to be quite this eventful. Tell me, do you know what is precipitating your travels into the past?”
“That brings me to the next part of the tale,” she said.
“There’s more?”
Karigan nodded. “The Eletians—”
“Eletians?”
“Yes, Excellency.”
He held up his hand to forestall her further and ordered his manservant to bring out an aged stash of brandy.
“I think we both need some before you continue,” the king said. “At least I do.”
Karigan watched him rub his temples as the brandy was served. She well understood his incredulity, for she barely had time to digest the events herself.
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “You are a wonder, Rider.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Coming from anyone else, I might not believe it at all.”
Karigan found herself blushing, and hurriedly—too hurriedly—swallowed a mouthful of brandy, only to gag as it burned down her throat. The manservant quickly provided her with water and clapped her on her back. Doubly embarrassed, Karigan thought her face must also be doubly red. At least it could be passed off as the brandy.
There was nothing left for her to do but tell the king of the Eletian aspect of her tale. She told of Prince Jametari’s explanation of magic leaking through the breach in the D’Yer Wall and upsetting the balance of magic in the lands. Reluctantly she revealed the wild magic that still resided within her to explain the traveling, but she did not mention the “duality,” not wanting to give the king a reason to doubt her. She also downplayed any threat the Eletians might pose to her.
When she finished, the king sat deep in thought, running his forefinger across the carved armrest of his chair. All three dogs lay at his feet. Finder was snoring.
Presently he said, “This Prince Jametari was Shawdell’s father?” At her nod, he continued, “Then I’m not so sure we can believe all he says.”
“I do.”
King Zachary did not gainsay her. “I must admit his words make sense. But Argenthyne?” He shook his head. “It is like the stories my nursemaid used to tell me when I was a lad.” His shoulders sagged. “If only we knew more of magic. How can I defend my people against it? I can’t have citizens vanishing and forest groves turning to stone at random. As more and more of this occurs, the populace will grow more disturbed, and then what? How am I to protect them?”
An awkward silence followed, and feeling a need to say something useful, Karigan said, “If Alton can fix the breach, then balance should return to—” The king’s expression crumbled, and suddenly he looked very, very haggard. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
King Zachary stood, his eyes ineffably sad.
Alarmed, Karigan stood, too. “Please, please tell me—is it Alton? Has something happened?”
The king stepped closer. “I fear it is so. I’m sorry, Rider—Karigan, but Alton is with the gods now. He perished in Blackveil.”
It was like the floor had collapsed from beneath her feet. It couldn’t be true! She had just seen Alton in the Mirror of the Moon. He had looked so ill . . . She shook her head, denying the king’s words.
His hand was on her arm, but she could not feel it—everything had gone numb.
“N-no,” she said. “It can’t be true. I’ll ask Mara and she’ll—”
The king cursed. “I thought you knew. I thought you’d have heard when you returned from your errand and saw Rider barracks.”
Barracks? What was he talking about? She had to go see Mara. Alton couldn’t be dead. He—
“Rider Barracks burned,” the king said. “There were intruders on the castle grounds, and all I can guess is that Mara used her ability to defend herself. She is badly burned. Ephram, alas, perished in the blaze.”
“No!”
The king drew closer to comfort her in his embrace. “Karigan—”
She pulled herself away and ran from the study.
ASHES
The young mender, Ben, splayed his body protectively across Mara’s door in the mending wing. He licked his lips anxiously, his eyes fairly bugging out of his head.
“You can’t enter!” he told Karigan. “She’s too hurt. Please, Rider, burns are tricky things. Only Master Destarion and myself—”