His guilt renewed, he sank back onto his bench, shaking his head. Starling had won this encounter. He had baited Cade and gotten him to speak. Cade added it to the litany of failures he repeated in his mind.
DRAGON TIME
Karigan pulled the supple boot on. It was close in make to her Rider boots, but the leather was too glossy and lacked wear. The stitching of the sole and seams were too perfect, and she supposed if the mechanicals of this time could weave cloth, they could also make boots.
The empire may have made the boots, but the uniform was hers, meticulously cleaned and mended. If one did not look closely, it appeared as whole as if it had not seen duty in Blackveil Forest and then been brought forward a couple of centuries into the future. Unfortunately, Dr. Silk had not seen fit to return to her the bonewood, the feather of the winter owl, the mirror shard, or most important, her moonstone. She could only guess they were locked away for further study.
She did not understand Dr. Silk’s motive in giving her her uniform to wear, but it only made her feel more herself and ready to stand up to the empire, ready to face whatever came her way.
When she stood, attired as a Green Rider ought to be, Lorine’s expression was a mix of respect and consternation, but Arhys’ reaction proved humbling—she laughed.
“You look very funny,” Arhys said. “Funnier than when you were dressed like a boy.”
“Hush, Arhys,” Lorine said. “Miss Goodgrave—I mean, Rider G’ladheon, is of a different time. Things were different back then, and so was the style of dress.”
Arhys laughed again. “That is no dress!” She herself wore a lovely dress with layers of skirts that were frilled with ribbons. No doubt it was a gift from Dr. Silk.
Karigan smiled, amused by Arhys’ reaction. Since Silk knew all about Karigan’s identity, there was no longer any reason to hide it, so she and Lorine had tried to explain her origins to the girl, who had been naturally curious about the uniform. Arhys, however, was predictably unimpressed. When told Karigan had been a king’s messenger, she declared, “There has never been a king. Only the emperor.” Ironic, coming from the sole heir of that king’s bloodline. But what Arhys believed to be true, might help keep her alive for the time being.
After what Karigan assumed to be the passage of an hour’s time, a pair of guards appeared at the door to escort her away. They did not manacle her but regarded her and her uniform with disgust in their eyes.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
They did not answer, but pushed her along whether or not she kept up her pace. She thought maybe they were taking her to Dr. Silk’s office again, but they struck off down a grand corridor of marble and gold, frescos and statues. Oddly, a channel of water originating from a fountain flowed beside them, along the corridor, over a pebbled bottom. Trout darted from shadow to shadow. With all the fountains, and the palace located on an island in a lake, not to mention all the canals in Gossham, it became apparent to her that someone was obsessed with water.
Having grown up on the coast, Karigan was fond of water herself, but she could never have imagined using it to such a degree for transportation, commerce, and decoration. She supposed it was one detail of many that she would never understand about the empire, though she did find the fountains and this indoor stream pleasant, under otherwise unpleasant circumstances.
The corridor only became richer, grander, and busier as they went on, the ceilings higher, the art more vibrant. They came to a great golden door with images of dragons, horses, and lemon trees shining in relief, much like the doors at the palace’s main entrance. Dr. Silk waited there with his aide, Mr. Howser. He surveyed her through his dark specs, and she wondered what his nacreous eyes took in. Did her aura show the same shade of green as her uniform?
“Well, well, well,” he said. Excitement made his voice and movements sharp. “A living breathing artifact of an earlier time.”
Karigan scowled. She had not liked such inferences from the professor, and she liked them less from Silk.
“What is going on?” she demanded. “I take it there is a throne room on the other side of this door?”
“Correct. I am going to officially present you to the emperor and his inner circle. Sadly, since he has seen you already, the element of surprise is lacking, but the uniform should make an impact.”
Ah, Karigan thought. That’s why he wanted me to have it.
“My dear Miss G’ladheon,” he said, “between acquiring you and the Eletian, and giving you to the emperor, my status in the empire will rise immeasurably. No doubt I shall be granted great Preference, perhaps even exceed my father’s.”
“Have you given the Eletian to the emperor already?”
“Oh, no, no. He is not presentable yet, and it does not hurt to wait a day or two. It will only prolong and reinforce the emperor’s pleasure at receiving my gifts.”
Karigan was relieved Lhean had not been “given” yet, whatever the giving might entail. It could not be good in any case. As for herself, she detested being regarded as a commodity to be given and received.
“Now let me have a look at you to make sure all is correct.” Silk circled around her, gazing up and down, brushing nonexistent lint off her sleeve. Karigan crossed her arms, feeling even more like a commodity, livestock that has been brushed before being presented at auction. She was relieved he didn’t check her teeth.
When he finished his inspection, he stood before her. “Do not speak unless directly addressed. Remember, the welfare of Mr. Harlowe is riding on your good behavior.”