First Rider's Call
Page 122
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“Greetings, Rider,” he said. “Your intervention is most appreciated. Perhaps Neff can give you some pointers on the playing of his horn.” There was humor in his eyes, and she felt a blush creeping up her neck.
She cleared her throat, and said hastily, “I wanted to advise you, Your Majesty, that I had a most eventful message errand. Can we speak at the end of your public audience?”
“Of course, but you can see it will be hours.” When she nodded, he said, “In the meantime, I should like you here at my side.” He indicated the space where Captain Mapstone usually stood.
Karigan glanced up at him in astonishment. “Me?” “I need you,” he said, “especially the way today’s audience has gone so far. You have proven yourself . . . creative.” He smiled kindly. “I would appreciate your input as necessary.”
Karigan did not have a chance to protest or plead her lack of wisdom for so important a role, for the king began hearing petitions. She stepped into Captain Mapstone’s space to the right of the king’s dais, hoping she did not look as small and foolish as she felt.
Soon her self-consciousness melted into interest. She found herself enjoying watching the king at work. His outward facade was unswerving and authoritative, his questioning of petitioners deft and pointed. His decisions were fair and efficient, a good thing considering the length of the line.
She especially liked watching the way he moved his hands when he spoke, and how he leaned forward to focus on whomever stood before the dais. She liked the way the sun lancing through the windows lightened his eyelashes . . .
He happened to glance at her just then and she caught her breath. It was fleeting, but enough for her to see he was startled by her regard. Karigan shook herself and straightened her shoulders, and decided she ought to pay more attention to the proceedings.
To her vast relief, he seemed not to need her at all. That is, until the petitioners brought forth complaints of a stream flowing backward, a neighbor’s hoe turning to gold, and a husband vanishing from plain sight. “What will you do?” they all implored the king. Karigan saw he was a little at a loss, and he beckoned her close to his side.
“Do you have any suggestions of what I might say about these magical happenings without panicking everyone?”
She supposed he asked her since she was a user of magic, but she had no magical answers, with the exception of the first.
“The stream the man is talking about is tidal, and when the tide goes out, it seems to reverse itself.” She was glad of her coastal upbringing, and that she knew of such a stream, and had even played in one as a child.
The king questioned the man further, learning he was new to the coast and unfamiliar with the workings of the tides. It became evident that the talk of other strange events in the countryside led him to believe the stream out of the ordinary.
The other questions Karigan had to mull over for a few moments. From her recent conversation with Prince Jametari, she knew the disruptions of magic would continue until either the world found balance with the influx from Blackveil, or the D’Yer Wall was mended, effectively shutting it off. There was no easy way to explain this to these folk without causing the very mayhem the king wished to avoid.
“I would handle them as you would any other petition, in terms they understand,” Karigan said, “since there isn’t much we can do about the magic, except reassure them that we’re looking into it.”
When the king waited for further explanation, she added, “The fellow whose neighbor’s hoe turned to gold? He’s jealous. The woman whose husband vanished, well, she’s now got eight children to provide for on her own. She is, in effect, a widow.”
The king’s features lightened. “I see what you’re getting at.”
And so, following her inspiration, he questioned the fellow further about the golden hoe. True to the word, he was jealous of his neighbor as much as he was upset by the magic. When drawn out further, he admitted his neighbor was known for his generosity, and had planned to share his wealth with the village. Placated and reassured the king was aware of the situation, the fellow departed satisfied.
The king ordered a widow’s dispensation for the woman whose husband had vanished, payable until such time as he reappeared. Though grieving openly for her missing husband, the “widow” left knowing her children would not go hungry.
While the king handled other cases with similar success, there was little he could do to assuage the general anxiety among people that something magical might happen without warning, and with disastrous effect.
Throughout it all, Colin took notes on each and every case, at once reaffirming to the petitioners their concerns were being heard, and ensuring the king and his advisors had a record of each magical incident so it might be examined later for patterns.
As the day wore on, the king asked her once or twice for her assessment on the character of certain petitioners. Her merchant background served her well. She was able to inform him a tradesman was “hiding something,” and a horse merchant was exaggerating the quality of her stock, and thus was not so injured by the plaintiff as she claimed.
The king agreed with her appraisals, and she had the sense of being tested, for the king was much too practiced in hearing petitions to really need her intervention. Nevertheless, he seemed pleased with her responses, and she found herself basking in his approval.
Karigan provided her opinion when requested, with pride in herself as a Green Rider blossoming and growing as she did so. It was odd how earlier in the day she had doubted herself and feared that the duality within her might lead her into doing something that would cause the downfall of all that was good in the world. She had dissolved her doubts standing at the king’s side today. Had she not done well?
She cleared her throat, and said hastily, “I wanted to advise you, Your Majesty, that I had a most eventful message errand. Can we speak at the end of your public audience?”
“Of course, but you can see it will be hours.” When she nodded, he said, “In the meantime, I should like you here at my side.” He indicated the space where Captain Mapstone usually stood.
Karigan glanced up at him in astonishment. “Me?” “I need you,” he said, “especially the way today’s audience has gone so far. You have proven yourself . . . creative.” He smiled kindly. “I would appreciate your input as necessary.”
Karigan did not have a chance to protest or plead her lack of wisdom for so important a role, for the king began hearing petitions. She stepped into Captain Mapstone’s space to the right of the king’s dais, hoping she did not look as small and foolish as she felt.
Soon her self-consciousness melted into interest. She found herself enjoying watching the king at work. His outward facade was unswerving and authoritative, his questioning of petitioners deft and pointed. His decisions were fair and efficient, a good thing considering the length of the line.
She especially liked watching the way he moved his hands when he spoke, and how he leaned forward to focus on whomever stood before the dais. She liked the way the sun lancing through the windows lightened his eyelashes . . .
He happened to glance at her just then and she caught her breath. It was fleeting, but enough for her to see he was startled by her regard. Karigan shook herself and straightened her shoulders, and decided she ought to pay more attention to the proceedings.
To her vast relief, he seemed not to need her at all. That is, until the petitioners brought forth complaints of a stream flowing backward, a neighbor’s hoe turning to gold, and a husband vanishing from plain sight. “What will you do?” they all implored the king. Karigan saw he was a little at a loss, and he beckoned her close to his side.
“Do you have any suggestions of what I might say about these magical happenings without panicking everyone?”
She supposed he asked her since she was a user of magic, but she had no magical answers, with the exception of the first.
“The stream the man is talking about is tidal, and when the tide goes out, it seems to reverse itself.” She was glad of her coastal upbringing, and that she knew of such a stream, and had even played in one as a child.
The king questioned the man further, learning he was new to the coast and unfamiliar with the workings of the tides. It became evident that the talk of other strange events in the countryside led him to believe the stream out of the ordinary.
The other questions Karigan had to mull over for a few moments. From her recent conversation with Prince Jametari, she knew the disruptions of magic would continue until either the world found balance with the influx from Blackveil, or the D’Yer Wall was mended, effectively shutting it off. There was no easy way to explain this to these folk without causing the very mayhem the king wished to avoid.
“I would handle them as you would any other petition, in terms they understand,” Karigan said, “since there isn’t much we can do about the magic, except reassure them that we’re looking into it.”
When the king waited for further explanation, she added, “The fellow whose neighbor’s hoe turned to gold? He’s jealous. The woman whose husband vanished, well, she’s now got eight children to provide for on her own. She is, in effect, a widow.”
The king’s features lightened. “I see what you’re getting at.”
And so, following her inspiration, he questioned the fellow further about the golden hoe. True to the word, he was jealous of his neighbor as much as he was upset by the magic. When drawn out further, he admitted his neighbor was known for his generosity, and had planned to share his wealth with the village. Placated and reassured the king was aware of the situation, the fellow departed satisfied.
The king ordered a widow’s dispensation for the woman whose husband had vanished, payable until such time as he reappeared. Though grieving openly for her missing husband, the “widow” left knowing her children would not go hungry.
While the king handled other cases with similar success, there was little he could do to assuage the general anxiety among people that something magical might happen without warning, and with disastrous effect.
Throughout it all, Colin took notes on each and every case, at once reaffirming to the petitioners their concerns were being heard, and ensuring the king and his advisors had a record of each magical incident so it might be examined later for patterns.
As the day wore on, the king asked her once or twice for her assessment on the character of certain petitioners. Her merchant background served her well. She was able to inform him a tradesman was “hiding something,” and a horse merchant was exaggerating the quality of her stock, and thus was not so injured by the plaintiff as she claimed.
The king agreed with her appraisals, and she had the sense of being tested, for the king was much too practiced in hearing petitions to really need her intervention. Nevertheless, he seemed pleased with her responses, and she found herself basking in his approval.
Karigan provided her opinion when requested, with pride in herself as a Green Rider blossoming and growing as she did so. It was odd how earlier in the day she had doubted herself and feared that the duality within her might lead her into doing something that would cause the downfall of all that was good in the world. She had dissolved her doubts standing at the king’s side today. Had she not done well?
