“What is this?” he demanded. “I thought I trained you to be a swordmaster. Pitiful.” He glanced appraisingly at Mara. “Perhaps we chose the wrong Rider.”
The captain, her arms folded with her practice sword tucked beneath her elbow, cast Drent a sour look.
As Mara gave Karigan a hand up, she murmured, “A little distracted, were we?”
Karigan glared at her and set to patting sawdust off herself, something else with which she was becoming too familiar. She thanked the gods when she saw that the king and Fastion had not broken off their bout to witness her folly. Yes, she’d been gawking, and had to tear her gaze away again.
“I am disappointed in you,” Drent said.
“Arms Master,” Gresia said, “shouldn’t you be working with your own trainee? I think I can handle this.”
Drent glanced at her and, with a nod, murmured, “Arms Master.” He then stomped back to where the king and Fastion practiced.
“Now, Sir Karigan,” Gresia said, “I don’t know where your attention went, but that was a beginner’s mistake. Perhaps these exercises are too basic to hold your attention?”
“I apologize, Arms Master. It won’t happen again.”
“It is,” Gresia told the other Riders, “a good example of what not to do, and the consequences of not paying attention on the field of battle are far more lethal.”
“Well, then,” the captain said, “if this lesson is done—”
“Not even close,” Gresia said.
The captain and the arms master stared at one another as though engaged in a battle of wills. It ended when both seemed to look away at the same time.
“Now,” Gresia said, “Sir Karigan and I will demonstrate the next exercise for you. Watch carefully.”
Karigan faced the arms master in the ring. She made sure to pay attention this time with three sets of Rider eyes watching, including that of her captain. She would not humiliate herself again in front of them.
Gresia started slowly with basic moves, then sped up in increments, introducing some simple forms. Karigan was surprised, because though the forms were simple, the techniques were for more advanced training.
Gresia moved faster, and Karigan was truly paying attention now. This was no longer just a demonstration. Gresia’s sword cut relentlessly at her as she moved into more difficult forms, all the while striking faster and faster. Once Karigan was over her initial surprise, she allowed her training to take over. She had never engaged in advanced swordplay with Gresia before, and the arms master was a hawk with talons spread, capitalizing on any weakness she perceived in Karigan’s technique, a fierce joy on her face.
Karigan spun, leaped, swiveled side to side, as the blows rained down. She lost track of time, forgot the watchers, and took pleasure in pure movement, of attacking and defending.
Gresia chopped down with a hard blow and Karigan raised her sword to block it, but when the wooden blades met, there was an enormous c-r-r-rack and half of Karigan’s blade broke off. She shimmied out of the path of Gresia’s sword just in time.
Gresia swiftly collected herself and stepped back. She wasn’t even breathing hard. She grinned. “That was pleasant.”
Pleasant? Karigan supposed it was as apt a description as any.
“Do we have to do that?” Connly asked with trepidation.
Gresia laughed. “Not today. That was swordmaster level work, and I wanted to give Karigan a chance to redeem herself.”
“I had no doubts,” the captain said.
Karigan warmed in pleasure at her approval.
Mara lightly punched her arm. “Good job, Helgadorf!”
Karigan glared at her, then glanced toward the ring where the king and Fastion had been working, but they, and Drent, were gone, and she felt let down. She tried to tell herself it was because she wanted Drent’s approval, but she knew it wasn’t his she sought.
The rest of the session was spent going through basic exercises again, this time Karigan, borrowing Gresia’s practice sword, sparring with Connly. When they finished up, she walked back toward the castle with Mara.
“You know, he watched you and Gresia with great interest,” Mara said.
“He who?” Karigan asked.
“You know who.”
Karigan’s cheeks warmed, and she gave Mara a sideways glance, but Mara simply watched the path ahead, betraying nothing. While it was possible “he” had meant Drent or Fastion, or even Connly, Karigan was pretty sure Mara had meant the king, and she said it as if she’d known there was something between them. Karigan resigned herself to the idea of Mara knowing. How many people knew or suspected, she didn’t care to guess. There was no point to it, anyway. He was the king and he was married, end of story.
• • •
The next morning, as she left her chamber for her shift at the stable to muck out stalls, she was intercepted by a Green Foot runner.
“The queen requests your presence,” the boy said.
“Was a reason given?”
“No, ma’am, just that you are to go soonest.”
Karigan reentered her chamber to change. She could not present herself to the queen in her stable work clothes. As she pulled a fresh uniform out of her wardrobe, she wondered what Estora wanted. Maybe she was just in need of company again. Would the king be there?
She drew on her longcoat, grabbed her saber, and then with a cursory look in her hand mirror, left her chamber behind to attend the queen. When she reached the royal apartments, she felt a ripple of the wards Merla had set, very much like the sensation when she entered the warded area around Rider waystations. In Estora’s sitting room, she found it little changed since the last time she’d been there, except for the absence of the ice creatures.
Estora reclined on her sofa beneath a blanket, working on some sewing, a Hillander terrier lying across her feet. He sat up at Karigan’s arrival and barked.
“Quiet, Jasper!” Estora said.
The terrier leaped off the sofa to sniff Karigan’s boots. Karigan bowed to Estora and snuck in a pat to Jasper’s head.
“Zachary thinks he leaves this dog to guard me,” Estora said, “but mainly Jasper just naps and wants scratches when anyone visits. But come, come and sit. I am glad you are here. I think your presence will be most helpful.”
Helpful? Karigan sat in one of the armchairs beside the fire, wondering exactly what the queen had in mind.
ASH GIRL AND QUEEN
“There she is, the queen’s little hero!” The pronouncement was followed by laughter.
Anna didn’t pause at the door to the servants’ common room to retort. She simply walked on, her empty ash buckets banging together. She’d been right, of course, that her fellow servants would not believe what she’d done and seen the day of the attack of the ice creatures, or that she’d been personally thanked by the king and queen for her help. They mocked instead of praised her. The servants quarters had not been hit hard by the ice creatures, so many of them had not seen what she had.
Worse still, the servants gossiped about Sir Karigan’s “uncanniness.” Some made the sign of the crescent moon when they spoke her name. She could speak to ghosts, they said, and travel through time. Anna did not know how true or false these claims were, but she had witnessed Sir Karigan using magic to protect the two of them during the attack, not use it for ill. Whether she had magic or not, she’d gone on to save the queen, and had treated Anna very nicely. She wasn’t, to Anna’s eyes, “uncanny,” but a kind person. When, on impulse, she told the gossips to shut their mouths, it produced yet more uproarious laughter and ridicule.
When finally she arrived at the storage room to leave off her buckets, broom, and shovel, Master Scrum was there in his apron, looking over a list. He eyed her sourly.
“A little slow today, are we, Mousie? Been out saving the queen again, eh?”
She
scowled at the nickname and set the buckets down with a clatter.
“Don’t you get airs, girl. I’ll give you extra shifts if I’ve a mind. That what you want?”
“No, Master Scrum.”
He grunted and returned to his list. “Just you be back here at one hour, sharp.”
“Yes, Master Scrum.”
She stepped back out into the corridor feeling rather dispirited. She almost wished the ice creatures would attack again. Then she’d go help the Riders like before. Then see what everyone would say. They’d probably just continue to mock her. They couldn’t see beyond the ends of their noses.
As Anna came abreast of the common room, a Green Foot runner trotted down the corridor. The runners weren’t usually seen in the servants quarters. He must be looking for Master Scrum, but to her surprise, he halted in front of her.
“You’re Anna, aren’t you? The ash girl?”
Doubly surprised, she couldn’t answer.
“That’s Mousie,” some wag in the common room quipped.
It loosened her tongue. “Yes, I’m Anna.”
“Good. You are to report to the queen immediately.”
The chatter among the servants ceased. Anna refused to look in to see their faces. Let them think what they wanted. She followed the boy down the corridor, but what in the world would the queen want with her? Suddenly her legs got shaky.
“Am—am I in trouble?” she asked the runner.
He shrugged. “I dunno, miss. I’m just supposed to escort you there.”
Escort. It sounded serious. Had she done something wrong during the attack? Had they only just figured it out and now wanted to reprimand her? Then she looked down at her hands and her skirts—they were coated with ashes and soot. How could she go before the queen like this?
“I need to clean up!”
“You look fine to me,” the boy said. “Best not to keep the queen waiting.”
Anna despaired and tried the best she could to pat ash off her hands and skirts as they went. It was probably in her hair and on her face, as well.
She meekly followed the boy into the royal wing, her mind filled with the direst of dire thoughts of all that she might have done to displease the queen. The stern faces of the Weapons she saw along the way did little to bolster her confidence.
When the runner halted, she was so absorbed in her own worries that she walked into him.
“I’m sorry!”
“It’s all right, miss. No need to be so fretful. The queen is kind.”
His words made her feel better until she saw they’d reached the queen’s door and one of the tall broad-shouldered Weapons was gazing down at her.
“This is Anna,” the boy said, “the one Queen Estora sent me to fetch.”
“You may take her in, Rob.” The Weapon’s low voice was like the low roll of thunder. He opened the door.
Anna thought to run, but the boy, Rob, took her by the wrist and pulled her into the queen’s apartments. She followed him all the way into the sitting room and was surprised to find not only Queen Estora on her sofa petting one of the king’s little white dogs, but Sir Karigan sitting beside the fire. A tall woman with steel gray hair stood beside the queen’s sofa. She was immaculately attired, and Anna thought she had seen her before, an important servant in the royal wing.
Rob bowed before the queen. “Here is Anna as you requested, my lady,” he said.
“Thank you, Rob,” Queen Estora replied. “You are dismissed.”
He bowed as he backed away, and when he turned, flashed Anna a smile, then hastened out. Remembering herself, she bobbed a curtsy.
“Hello, Anna,” Sir Karigan said with a friendly smile. “It’s good to see you again, and this time without us being under attack.”
“Yes, Sir Karigan. I mean, hello.” Sir Karigan looked well, Anna thought. She’d only seen the Rider at a distance since the day of the attack, and one of those times she’d been surrounded by Weapons.
“Anna,” the queen said, “I would like you to meet Mistress Evans. Mistress Evans is in charge of the servants in the royal wing.”
Anna curtsied again before the forbidding woman.
“None of that,” Mistress Evans said. “I haven’t a speck of noble blood in me.”
True or not, Anna thought, she certainly had a regal bearing.
“Now, let’s have a look at you, lass.”
Mistress Evans looked her over with a critical eye and she just wanted to hide. As if sensing her discomfort, Sir Karigan told her, “Anna, the queen says there is an opening on her personal household staff, and she thought maybe you’d like the position.”
Anna stood there in shock. She’d come expecting some kind of scolding, but now the queen wanted her as part of her personal staff?
“Well,” Mistress Evans said, “I can see you’ve been taking care of fireplaces and stoves.” Anna’s cheeks heated up as she thought of her ash- and soot-stained skirts. “Has Master Scrum given you other duties?”
“No’m, just taking out rubbish sometimes.”
“Hmm. Have you family around?”
Anna considered how to answer, conscious of all three women awaiting her answer. “No’m. I mean, not as there is any who care.”
“Explain.”
“Anna,” Sir Karigan said with a sharp look at Mistress Evans, “you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Anna gazed at her feet. “It’s all right, Sir Karigan. I’ve got sixteen brothers and sisters, you see.” The queen raised her eyebrows and placed her hand on her belly at this. “Too many mouths to feed for my mum and da,” Anna continued, “so they found me a job at the castle and left me.”
Mistress Evans, on the other hand, looked relieved. “That was sensible of them, lass, to find you a place that would keep you safe, warm, and fed.”
Anna knew it could have been much worse, but she’d never gotten over her sense of betrayal at having been abandoned.
“Can you read? Figure?”
Ashamed, Anna shook her head.
“We can do something about that, perhaps,” the queen said gently.
“I suppose,” Mistress Evans replied. “Well, she is polite enough and seems biddable. I think she’d do for hearth duty for the time being, certainly, and perhaps some other simple tasks, and then we can see how she develops.”
“What do you think, Anna?” Queen Estora asked. “Would you like to work here?”
Anna’s eyes widened, disbelieving her good fortune. The prospect of attending the queen both thrilled and terrified her. What if she made a mistake? And if she was here, she would no longer be able to tend the Rider wing, would she?
“The Riders,” she blurted, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
Sir Karigan looked like she was trying not to laugh. Mistress Evans appeared confused.
“Riders? What about the Riders?”
“She has been doing a very expert job of tending the hearths in the Rider wing,” Sir Karigan said, “and we’d be lost without her.”
“Surely,” Mistress Evans replied, “she’d not be that difficult to replace . . .”
Sir Karigan exchanged a meaningful look with the queen. The queen smiled. “Do you suppose, Mistress Evans, that in addition to serving here, she could continue to tend the Rider wing?”
Anna’s hopes surged and she crossed her fingers behind her back.
“It is somewhat irregular,” Mistress Evans replied. “I would have to work it out with Master Scrum, and it might take some creative scheduling, but if it is what you wish, it will be done.”
“It is what I wish.”
Mistress Evans bowed her head.
Anna almost danced she was so happy.
“Congratulations, Anna,” Sir Karigan said. “It’s nice that we’ll still get to see you in the Rider wing.
”
“Now, lass,” Mistress Evans said, “we’d better go break the news to Master Scrum, and move you to your new quarters.”
Anna could not believe it and almost forgot to curtsy to the queen. Then she said, “Thank you, Sir Karigan!”
The Rider looked genuinely surprised. “It is nothing I did. It was all the queen’s idea.”
Anna curtsied to the queen once more, then followed Mistress Evans out. Sir Karigan had helped without knowing, not realizing she’d shown Anna that she could be proud to be an ash girl, and that if she worked hard, and she determined she was going to work very hard indeed, and please the queen as best she could, that almost anything was possible. Even becoming a Green Rider.
“That was very kind of you,” Karigan told Estora.
“I found I could not get her out of my mind. She has a spark to her.”
“Yes, I agree, and her being stuck in the general servants quarters much longer might have snuffed it out.” Karigan started to rise, thinking Estora’s need of her presence concluded.
“Won’t you stay a while?” Estora asked. “Jaid will bring tea soon.”
“My other duties—” Karigan began.
Estora tinkled a hand bell and said, “That can be rectified.” Her maid answered her summons. “Jaid, see to it a runner is sent to Captain Mapstone informing her I have need of Sir Karigan for an hour or so.” When Jaid hurried off to obey, Estora smiled and said, “I may be confined, but being queen still has a few privileges.”
THE QUEEN’S REQUEST
Karigan shifted uncomfortably in her armchair, not especially pleased to have her schedule disrupted, but as Estora said, a queen had privileges and it was Karigan’s place to do as she was asked.