The cat twitched his ears, and before Alton’s eyes, he transformed into stone in the shape of a gryphon of myth, with a long raptor’s beak and eagle wings, and a catamount’s body. As a stone gryphon, he was much larger, his claws far more prominent. The sturdy table bowed under the weight of him.
“Uh, why is he a stone gryphon?” Alton asked.
“That is his true form, boy. Or, at least the gryphon part is. Whiskers, wake up.”
The stone texture melded into fur and feather. A hint of orange tabby shone through the tawny hide of the catamount. He had a magnificent ruff. Whiskers stared at Alton from above and down his beak. Alton felt the blood drain from his head.
“I presented him to you in his cat form,” Merdigen said, “because I did not wish to startle you unduly.”
Of his own volition, Whiskers shrank into his house cat form and licked his paw.
“What have you been feeding him?” Alton asked faintly.
“Well, you may have noticed the tower is rather free of rodents, so there is that, but as a magical creature, he can feed off of etherea, so I let him eat a little of me.”
Alton stared aghast at Merdigen.
“Don’t look so mortified, boy. I just share a little bit of my energy. He wouldn’t mind some real meat for sure, but this has done fine for quite some time.”
Alton found it all a little hard to take. Even as a magic user himself, it was not easy for him to imagine a world in which real gryphons once flew the skies. It seemed in the aftermath of the wall being breached, many things had begun to awaken: the Eletians, Mornhavon the Black, and the monsters of Blackveil, the elemental, and now a gryphon. A gryphon named Mister Whiskers, who was now in the shape of an orange house cat purring contentedly on his back with his paws in the air.
“Do you see why I said we need kittens?” Merdigen asked.
Alton had a flash of little orange kittens flying around the tower with eagle wings. “You want kittens?”
“To guard the towers, boy, against Sleepers. Though I admit, it would be fun to have little ones to play with.”
“You think gryphons would guard against Sleepers?”
“I understand your skepticism,” Merdigen replied. “The cat nature is strong in them and they are not like guard dogs, but I’m quite sure they would recognize the threat of the Sleepers.”
Alton felt another sneeze coming on and tilted his head back, but it failed. He sniffed. He bet his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. “I thought you said Whiskers was the last of his kind. Doesn’t it take, um, two to make kittens?”
“It does,” Merdigen replied. “I am not absolutely certain he’s the last gryphon. I thought to release him and see if he can find a mate, or if a mate can find him. At the very least, he can hunt for some fresh meat.”
The sneeze finally came and was so powerful that Whiskers flipped onto his feet and hissed. If nothing else, Alton thought, releasing Whiskers to the wild would relieve his allergies.
A PICNIC
Karigan slept through the night deeply and without dreams. Only as she gradually climbed out of the depths did she recall what had transpired the day before, and immediately she wished she could succumb to oblivion once more. She felt wrung out despite the rest and like the slightest thing—a wrong word, or a certain look—would set her off. Lhean had brought everything raw and to the surface.
But she also felt cleansed by having released so much that she had held inside, both her sorrow and her anger. Yes, Lhean had dragged her away from Cade and into the present, but it had been Cade who had let her go. Some part of her was unreasonably angry with him because of it, and another part knew he’d done it out of love.
She choked back a sob and tried to steady herself as she stared at the beams of the ceiling above. Her eye hurt like the fires of all five hells, as if the shard in it had shredded her inner eye. Ghost Kitty hopped on her belly, awakening her bladder. She hastened to get up and take care of business, and stoked the fire in her hearth. She splashed water on her face and then dabbed some of the numbing salve Ben had given her on her lower eyelid. She slipped the patch on and climbed back into bed, prepared to hide all day beneath her blankets, when a gentle knock came on her door and someone peered in.
“Oh, good,” Estral said, “you’re awake.”
Karigan let go a deep breath. If it had been anyone else . . .
Estral hauled in a basket and a teapot. “Thought you might like something to eat. They serve very good food in the diplomatic wing, and I asked if I could have a picnic basket with my tea. The staff kind of looked at me funny, but they didn’t ask questions.” She set the basket on the big desk and unloaded cups and muffins, cheese, and little mince pies and meat rolls, and even a couple wrinkly apples brought out of winter stores.
“I assume I missed breakfast,” Karigan said, watching in fascination as Estral unloaded yet more food from the basket.
“Actually, both breakfast and morning tea. It is now midday.”
“Oh, gods. My father and aunts—”
Estral poured tea in both cups and handed one to Karigan. “Not to worry. Your father is spending midday with members of the merchants guild, and your aunts are shopping.”
“Shopping,” Karigan murmured. The local shopkeepers ought to love seeing them coming, especially at a time of year when commerce was slow.
“Yes.” Estral now passed Karigan a nut muffin. “Something you said to them the other day made them decide it was best to give you some quiet time. Plus, the captain told them you were still on king’s business.”
“The king told them I had leave.”
Estral smiled. “Things have a way of coming up, don’t they?”
Karigan snorted and leaned back against her headboard.
“How does your eye feel?” Estral asked. “I know Mender Simeon—or is it Rider Simeon? Mender Rider Simeon? Anyway, I know he came down to check on you.”
“A little sore,” Karigan replied. Estral pursed her lips as if she knew it was an understatement. Karigan blew on her tea, and then asked, “What of Lhean?”
Estral sat on the foot of the bed with her tea and muffin. “The Eletians departed last evening. I guess their business here is done for now.”
Karigan stared into her mug. “I suppose the whole castle knows about . . .”
“Just those of us who were in the Rider wing at the time. The captain ordered the Riders to respect your privacy and avoid gossip.”
Karigan looked up. “She did?”
“I think,” and Estral spoke carefully, “according to Mara, she did not want the king to become angry with the Eletians for upsetting you. In the event he decided to express his displeasure, she did not want any possibility of an alliance with the Eletians endangered.”
Karigan sputtered on her tea and coughed.
“Easy there,” Estral said.
Estral was the only person she had ever confided in about the feelings between her and King Zachary, how he had once expressed his love for her. And the captain knew? And Mara? The captain was his closest advisor and an old friend, but was this something he and she had discussed? And she thought that Lhean’s actions would endanger a possible alliance with Eletia?
“Gods,” Karigan muttered.
“You know men,” Estral said airily, with a smile to show she was jesting. “So emotional. In fact, I happen to know one such myself, and we spoke yesterday. After a fashion.”
“Alton?”
Estral nodded.
“How? Is he here?”
“No. Lieutenant Connly arrived sometime after you met with Lhean.”
“Ah, of course,” Karigan murmured. “That’s good.”
“Yes.” Estral told her all about her conversation with Alton, including his punishment from Captain Mapstone.
“Laundry duty?” Karigan laughed, and the sound of it su
rprised her.
Estral nodded solemnly. “He can be very intense sometimes. I imagine he’s been chopping wood to vent.”
“He changed after he was pushed into Blackveil.” Karigan remembered well how he had treated her afterward. The forest’s poison had turned him against her, and the wall had turned against him. His inability to mend the wall made his anger and frustration all the worse.
“Who wouldn’t?” Estral asked, gazing keenly at Karigan. “Over time, though, I saw that part of him diminish. The anger. But when my voice was taken, I—I was not well. I thought it was the end of the world. I did not want to live, and it affected him. He felt helpless that he could not make everything better, and he got angry again.”
I thought it was the end of the world, Estral had said. I did not want to live . . . Karigan understood only too well.
As if perceiving her thoughts, Estral said, “I came to realize losing my voice was not everything, that it was not the end of the world. It hurt, still does, but I found another kind of voice.”
“You mean what Idris gave you.”
“Oh, it’s a magnificent gift, but no. The voice I found was my own, in writing. That is when I started taking down the history of the Green Riders, and it helped Alton, too, because he saw my interest in life rekindled, and he liked that I asked him and Dale many questions. It brought him back, until I left. But look at me now, all chatty thanks to Idris.”
“I’m glad,” Karigan replied. “I thought I heard singing yesterday, or something like song.”
“You did, but it was not me. I was not ready. It was Enver.”
They sat in silence for a while, working their way through the feast Estral had brought in the basket. Karigan was surprised to find herself famished when so often since her return she had been indifferent to food.
Estral quartered an apple and shared it with Karigan before sitting again at the foot of the bed. Dim daylight filtered through the arrow-slit windows, but left much of the chamber in shadow, but for the glow of firelight that played across Estral’s face. She was getting a certain look in her eye, one that was not unfamiliar to Karigan. It usually appeared when Estral had some subject to broach that was probably difficult or uncomfortable.
“I lost my voice,” Estral said. “It was stolen from me, but there is a chance I can restore it, so it’s not nearly as terrible as losing someone I love.”
So, she was broaching that subject. “Your father,” Karigan said, hoping to divert the conversation.
“My father is missing,” Estral replied, “but like my voice, I have hope of finding him.” Karigan opened her mouth to speak, but Estral shook her head. “I know you are trying to waylay me down a different path because the one I’m on is painful for you. I am not going to push you, but you know you only need ask if you ever want to talk about it.”
Silence fell between them, and Karigan took a rattling breath. She stared at the chunk of apple on her palm and then looked up at Estral. “His name was Cade.”
• • •
Perhaps it was the food, or perhaps it was the comfort of having her best friend there, but Karigan’s recounting of her time in the future was not as painfully draining as she feared. Estral was an excellent and patient listener, not interrupting except when she required clarification. The story was halting due to whatever blocked Karigan’s memory. When she told how she had been wrenched from Cade, it all came back vividly and painfully in the wake of Lhean having made her relive it. There were fresh tears, though not nearly as hard as those of the previous day.
“I am so sorry,” Estral said.
Just Estral’s presence comforted her. Maybe, she conceded, keeping Cade’s memory all to herself was not for the best.
The fire died down as the two talked quietly, and when someone tapped on her door, she had no notion of how much time had passed. Her father peered into her chamber. Thanks to Estral, she felt balanced enough to face him and the outside world.
When he entered her chamber, he bore a large bundle wrapped in brown paper and string in his arms and peered over the top to take in the basket and Estral, and Karigan still in her nightgown.
“A picnic?” he asked.
“Actually, yes,” Estral replied.
“I heard about your voice from Captain Mapstone,” he said. “I am very glad the Eletian could give you such a gift.”
“Me, too.”
To Karigan he said, “It is just as well you are not dressed. I have something I wish for you to try on.”
Karigan looked askance at the bundle in his arms. Was it another gown? Was he going to try to marry her off again?
“I want you to try it on,” he said, “and then show us in the common room.”
Us? Karigan wondered. Ghost Kitty sat at the foot of the bed watching him intently as if waiting to see what tricks the male human could do.
Her father placed the bundle next to the cat and said, “Don’t keep us waiting.” Before Karigan could ask any questions, he was out the door and closing it behind him.
“Well,” Estral said, “Let’s see what it is.”
“If it’s a gown, I’m never leaving my room again.” Karigan untied the string, or tried to, with Ghost Kitty attacking it. As the paper fell away, she gazed down at the cloth in Rider green.
“That looks familiar,” Estral said.
It was, and it was not. Karigan unfolded first a greatcoat. It was much the same as her regular greatcoat with its caped shoulders, but with a noticeable difference—the back was split for riding, with a brass button closure for the flaps when one was not on horseback. There were straps for buckling the flaps in place around one’s legs, which would protect them from rain and cold while on horseback. In addition, there were more pockets of varying sizes concealed in the interior. Why, she wondered, had Green Rider coats not been tailored this way to begin with?
“There’s more,” Estral said.
Karigan pulled out a longcoat, and it too was split for riding and had additional inside pockets. The final item she unfolded was a pair of trousers. No, not trousers, but true breeches with leather reinforcement all along the inseam. A vast improvement.
She dressed while Estral picked up the detritus from their picnic and piled it into the basket.
When Karigan was all dressed, with the longcoat on, she asked, “What do you think?”
“Looks like it fits well.”
“It does.” Karigan moved her shoulders and bent her knees. “Very comfortable.” There was an advantage to having a father who dealt in textiles. When he had begun outfitting the Green Riders five years ago, there had been a major improvement in materials, but he’d tweaked the design very little. The biggest change had been the waistcoat, altered from the usual Rider green to the blue-green plaid in honor of the First Rider. She tried to get a good look at herself in her hand mirror.
“You had better show your father,” Estral said, “before he dies of anticipation.”
Karigan smiled and picked up the greatcoat to take with her, Estral following behind. When she reached the common room, she was not expecting the crowd that greeted her.
THE FINGERS OF A HAND
The common room was filled with Riders, two of whom she had not seen in a while. First, Garth barreled over to her and lifted her off her feet in one of his customary bear hugs, and she laughed. The hug and laughing—it felt good. Then she saw Connly and received another hug, if not as gregarious as Garth’s. Connly might be lieutenant, but the Green Riders didn’t stand on formality the way the regular military did.
“Well, let us see the new design,” her father said. “Stand on a chair so all can see.”
Someone pulled out a chair, and she cried out in surprise when Garth lifted her onto it. Her father began pointing out and explaining the new features of the design, and Karigan obligingly revealed pockets and gussets and flaps. She saw that the
captain stood next to him, arms folded, her expression unreadable. Of anyone in the room, it was the captain he had to impress, because it was she who had to approve the design. If the oohs and aahs of her Riders had any power to sway her, she would approve it on the spot.
When Karigan’s father finished describing the advantages of the new design, he turned to the captain. “What do you think? Your own Riders suggested the changes.”
The room fell silent as the captain appraised Karigan’s uniform, her expression unmoved and unchanged. Years seemed to pass, and Karigan could see the lines of tension etched in her father’s face.
“Well,” the captain finally said, “it’s about time our uniforms were properly designed for riding since that’s what we do.” The Riders cheered and clapped, but she held up her hand to quiet them. “I would like to see the materials before I make my final decision.”
“You know I use only the best,” Karigan’s father said.
“Patience, merchant.” There was the briefest exchange of smiles between the two that did not escape Karigan’s attention.
Hmm, she thought. She hopped off the chair so the captain, and everyone else, could get a closer look at the uniform pieces.
“I believe the existing greatcoats and longcoats can be modified to be close to the new design,” her father was telling the captain. “I can contract with the tailors here in the city and arrange for them to come to the castle and make the alterations for your Riders.”
Karigan handed her greatcoat to the captain so she could examine the materials, which were virtually the same as the old. She then let her fellow Riders check out the longcoat she was wearing and examine the breeches.
“As long as it can all be made to fit me,” Garth said, “I am fine with the changes.” He was a rather large fellow.