The shaft of light probing through the keyhole suddenly withdrew, but before Karigan could breathe a sigh of relief, something else came through. At first it was so dark and tiny, as tiny as a fly, she could not see it, but it was even darker than the night, a small black orb that floated on the air, and her eyes fixed on it. The orb bobbed and drifted toward her, expanding as it did so.
It was oily black and radiated a halo of darkness that pushed away even the possibility of light. The orb continued to grow. Tendrils of energy flared and arched across its surface, searing and scorching. Karigan backed away, but the thing, now the size of her head, moved with her. Karigan backed until she was pressed up against the wall and could go no farther, and still it moved toward her.
Then heavy footsteps clumped outside. “Who’s there?” a man asked.
The door hardened into ordinary, solid pine wood again. The orb halted, wavered uncertainly, then shrank in the blink of an eye and whisked out through the keyhole. Feet padded lightly away and Karigan closed her eyes in relief. Moments later someone tapped on her door. Holding the saber level before her, she opened the door carefully. To her surprise, the minstrel stood there, his lute in one hand and a glowing oil lamp in the other.
“May I come in?” he whispered. His face looked gaunt in the flickering light. “If the innkeeper or his guard Tarone find me here, I shall be skinned where I stand.”
“Why should I allow you in my room?” Karigan demanded none too quietly.
The minstrel peered about nervously. “You are wise in your caution considering someone was trying to break into your room just now. I think I frightened him off, a stealthy fellow. You’ve nothing to fear from me. I am but a minstrel and carry nothing in the way of arms . . . my lute would be a clumsy weapon against your blade.”
“Some minstrels are trained in the fighting arts.”
“True. Especially if they were trained in Selium as I was. But I never took up a sword.”
“Selium?”
“Yes. I believe that is where you’ve come from, too.”
Karigan’s mouth gaped open. She stepped aside for the minstrel to enter. She shut the door behind him, but didn’t sheathe her sword.
The minstrel glanced around the room as if something might leap out of the shadows at any moment. “I am Gowen, a master of my craft. I would have sought you out sooner, but if I didn’t perform as usual, someone might have gotten suspicious.” What a master minstrel might be doing in a wilderness town like North, he didn’t say. Without hesitation he sat on her bed. It was the only place to sit.
“What do you want?” Karigan asked. “How do you know I’ve traveled from Selium?”
“A Green Rider was looking for you the other day. At least, you answer her description. When she saw I was Selium trained—” he pointed to the gold master’s knot on his shoulder, “—she knew she could trust me, and she knew that a master minstrel wouldn’t have been placed here by mistake.”
Karigan would have liked to have known what he meant by that. “I know a Green Rider was looking for me, or somebody who looked like me.”
“You missed her by about a day.”
“She’s dead. I saw her body in a horse cart.”
Gowen shook his head, bewildered. “I never thought the townsfolk would go so far as to actually kill someone from the king. Joy hadn’t been a Rider long.”
Karigan sat cross-legged on the floor, and rested her chin on her hands. “I’m not sure it was the townsfolk who killed her.”
Gowen cocked his head, his eyes searching hers. Minstrels certainly possessed penetrating eyes. “What is it you know?”
“All I know is that others, including another Green Rider, were murdered in the same manner. Two black arrows with red fletching.”
“Strange. Strange things are brewing. Poor Joy was searching for you, or your twin, but you weren’t her primary concern. A messenger horse was.”
“She didn’t say why on either count, did she?” It was too much of a coincidence.
“No. But, young lady, of greater concern are the others who were looking for one who also matched your description. Their description wasn’t as detailed as Joy’s, but good enough to make a match.”
Karigan bit her bottom lip. She didn’t want to ask, but she did anyway. “Were they Mirwellian?”
“I see you know you’re being pursued. They were here a few days ago. I’m not sure where they went after North, but they were in a hurry. I thought nothing of it till Joy described you. She didn’t tell me, though, that you were a Green Rider.”
“I’m not.”
The minstrel blinked, his only hint of surprise. “You wear Rider insignia.”
Karigan had forgotten about the winged horse embroidered on her sleeve. “I’m delivering a message for a dead Green Rider,” she said.
“Killed by two black arrows.”
She nodded.
“My dear young woman, you should not linger in this town. These black arrows sound like an omen to me. An omen of the dark past. No doubt it has something to do with Mornhavon the Black.”
Karigan shuddered. Whether it was the cold of the evening or the name that caused her to do so, she wasn’t sure. Mornhavon the Black’s name had come up a lot since she had started this strange journey, even though he had been vanquished centuries ago.
“That person outside your door may not have been an ordinary brigand, either,” Gowen said.