The High King's Tomb
Page 48

Somehow he had known. Somehow he had known he would not return from his errand, for this was dated just a month before Karigan encountered him dying on the road. And the one who awaited him? None other than Lady Estora. She still grieved for him, Karigan knew, but it was a secret grief that must be hidden from all but the Riders lest it become known she had loved a commoner. F’ryan was the bond that had created a friendship between Estora and Karigan. Karigan was the last to see him alive and now wore his brooch, and Estora had spoken to her as if she could bridge some chasm, somehow allow her words to connect with F’ryan beyond the veil of death.
Had Karigan betrayed more than friendship when she pushed Estora away? Had she betrayed F’ryan’s wishes? He had come to her after death in the form of a ghost on that long ago journey, and still his words reached her from beyond the grave.
She closed the logbook saddened that the line between commoner and noble, and that between life and death, kept apart those who loved one another. Life was such a fleeting thing, after all.
Over the days that followed, they rode into a stiff northwest wind that froze cheeks and nose tips, and portended the winter to come. Mostly they rode in silence, but it was a comfortable silence. In the evenings they practiced with the wooden swords, providing much entertainment for the children of one village. Fergal was beginning to get a better sense of rhythm with the drills Karigan put him through. When outside the confines of a village, Fergal tried to teach her to throw knives. While her efforts went wild less often, the knives still soared far off target. Karigan had to give Fergal credit for containing both his impatience with her and his laughter.
They encountered more and more farms and villages as they neared the Grandgent River. The Grandgent was the largest river in Sacoridia, and much commerce occurred along its shores. Her father’s river cogs sailed its water on trading missions all the way from Corsa Harbor to Adolind Province. Shipyards launched vessels along its banks, and river drivers sent rafts of logs down the currents destined for one of the many sawmills. Hundreds of feet of board then went on to the shipyards for the building of vessels of all sizes and types.
The Kingway split the boundaries of Penburn and L’Petrie provinces as it approached the river, and if Karigan hadn’t been duty bound on king’s business, she could steer southward to the coast and her home in Corsa. She might even obtain a berth on a riverboat heading downstream. She smiled at the thought of her aunts fussing over her and pushing more food before her than she could ever hope to eat. And of course there were her father’s hugs. Then once the initial greetings were over, she knew her aunts would bemoan her “decision” to “join” the messenger service. Even worse, the debacle of her outing with Braymer Coyle would have reached their ears by now via the merchants guild, and she would never hear the end of it. Better that she continue heading west than face the indignation of her strong-willed aunts.
Chicken, she told herself, but the smile did not leave her face.
The road cut through the center of one of the busiest towns on the east bank of the Grandgent, called Rivertown. Here the road was well made, a reflection of the wealth the shipbuilders and timber merchants heaped on their town, and the hooves of Condor and Sunny clattered on broad paving stones. Along the road were grand houses with formal gardens. As they neared Rivertown’s center, buildings clustered closer together and there were interesting shops of all kinds, as well as inns and eateries. Despite the neat and clean appearance of the main street, Karigan knew that rougher neighborhoods existed but a block away.
They circled a fountain in the town’s center in which a statue of Nia, goddess of rivers, stood. In one hand she balanced a river cog, in the other, a cant dog, a common tool used by foresters and river drivers. No mistaking what this town was about. And while there were at least two chapels dedicated to Aeryc, Karigan espied a tiny chapel in Nia’s service. It wasn’t often one found a chapel devoted to the lesser gods these days.
Soon their first view of the river appeared as the street dipped down. Bookended by the facades of buildings on either side of the street, it shone a deep, royal blue with the sun glancing on it, and after the greens, browns, and rusts of the countryside, it proved a delight to the eye.
Karigan halted Condor in front of a mercantile. “This is our last big town before we reach Selium,” she said, “so I want to restock our provisions.”
Fergal chose to wait for her outside with the horses, and when she returned with her arms full of foodstuffs, she found him fingering his Rider brooch and staring at the river.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” she said. “My father always called it the grandfather of rivers, and he’s sailed up and down it quite a bit.”
“Oh.” Fergal tried to look interested in her words, but failed. Something about the river did hold his attention, but whatever it was, he did not say. Karigan dismissed it and they loaded the new provisions into their saddlebags.
She mounted Condor and reined him back onto the street.
“How long until we reach Selium?” Fergal asked.
“If we make good time this afternoon, it should be only a few more days.”
They descended the street to Rivertown Landing, and here the scent of dead fish and rotting river weed rose up from the shore and from the marshes across the river. If it weren’t so late in the season, they’d see all kinds of birds nesting, hovering, and wading, but the waters and sky were empty and the only bird Karigan espied was a lone gull winging southward.