“Your color’s coming back,” she said.
Karigan swallowed the last of the milk and wiped the milk mustache off with her sleeve. “Today drained me.”
Melry leaned forward with an expression of deadly seriousness that only near-teenagers can achieve. “There have been rumors flying around all day about you, like you did something today that no one’s done in a million years. Or was it a thousand?” Melry screwed up her face. “I’m not real good with numbers. Frustrates the captain a lot. Is it true?”
“I’ve no idea,” Karigan said. “But I did have a strange day.”
“What happened?”
How could she tell this girl that she had ridden with the ghost of her friend, F’ryan Coblebay, not to mention ghosts who were among the first to be Green Riders? “I—I don’t feel up to discussing it.”
Melry’s face crumbled in disappointment. “Well, they said you traveled fast, whatever that means. Condor is fast, but not the fastest. That would be Ereal’s Crane. Anyway, it’s off to the baths for you.”
Karigan followed Melry out of the room. A Weapon whom she hadn’t seen before fell in step behind them. Melry rolled her eyes. The few Riders they encountered in the corridor goggled at Karigan as if she were some unknown creature from another land, but said nothing. One young man, with sandy hair, actually smiled at her and said, “Welcome, Rider.”
“That was Alton,” Melry said after he passed by. “He’s always full of himself—aristocratic blood, y’know, but not a bad sort.”
A steaming hip bath awaited Karigan in the bathing room. Several other baths were partitioned off by curtains, but the room was empty of other people. She stepped toward the bath, then hesitated, glancing at the Weapon.
Melry followed her eyes, and put her hands on her hips. “You mind watching things from outside, Fastion? Give Karigan a little privacy, will you? If you want to see a naked woman, go downtown.”
Karigan’s eyes widened that Melry would speak to a Weapon so, but Fastion’s expression did not alter as he stepped outside of the room.
“I haven’t decided whether or not Weapons are a natural phenomenon,” Melry said, pronouncing the last word with special care. “The captain says that a lot.”
Karigan smiled, something her facial muscles were no longer used to. “Thanks, Melry.”
“Only the captain calls me Melry. You can call me Mel, if you like.” She left the bathing chamber, whistling.
Karigan sank into the tub, her battered and bruised body easing in the heat. She nodded off, and woke up with a snort to discover she had dozed long enough for the water to become tepid. With a shiver, she stepped out of the bath, toweled herself dry and dressed. Tentatively she opened the door and found Fastion waiting patiently for her outside.
“I’m done.”
He nodded, and they headed down the corridor. They arrived at the room simultaneously with Mel who could hardly see over an armload of green clothes.
“Thought you might need a change of clothes,” she said, “so I stopped at the quartermaster’s. He wasn’t happy about being woke up so late, nor about giving up good uniforms.”
Fastion took up his post outside, and Melry dumped the load on Karigan’s bed. “Hope it fits, and I hope you don’t mind green.”
Karigan sighed, lamenting her wardrobe left in Selium so long ago. “I’m getting used to it.” She held a familiar linen shirt to her shoulders for size. “I think this will work. I borrowed some things from the waystation near North.”
Mel’s eyes grew large. “You were there? That’s wild territory.”
Karigan nodded. “I read a notice that the quartermaster was to be informed when things are taken.”
Mel listened attentively while Karigan listed the uniform pieces she had removed from the waystation. When Karigan finished, Mel yawned. “I’ll take care of it in the morning. Quartermaster’ll skin me if I wake him up again. I’m about done in myself, anyway. Have to get up early to feed the horses.”
Karigan’s eyes fell on the message satchel still lying on her table. “One more thing,” she said. “F’ryan Coblebay wrote a letter to a Lady Estora. Would you mind delivering it to her?”
Mel’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “Oh, no! Estora—she doesn’t know about F’ryan yet.”
“Then best she hears it from you and not a total stranger like me.” Karigan took the letter from the satchel and passed it to Mel, feeling a great deal of self-satisfaction: she had achieved her mission, had delivered the king his message, and even the love letter. And she was still alive.
“I’ll take it.” Tears threatened to spill down Mel’s cheeks again. “You’re right. Best she hears it from me.”
Mel left, and Karigan sagged in exhaustion to the bed. She kicked off her boots and wrapped a blanket around herself, and fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
STEVIC G’LADHEON
“Like old times, isn’t it?” Stevic G’ladheon poked a stick at the crackling campfire. “Just the two of us on the road without an inn in sight.”
Sevano grunted from where he lay on his bedroll with his hands folded across his belly. “Aye, well, you ought to be home looking over accounts, or at the very least, leading one of your caravans.”
The night was thick in this unpopulated countryside, and the piercing glimmer of stars above cold and distant. To the gods watching from above, would their little campfire appear as a point of light like a star? Not even a farmer’s cot could be found for miles along this forsaken stretch of road, denying them even the homey glow of a candle in a window. They were alone, he and Sevano, with the night and the gods.