The High King's Tomb
Page 83
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By the time she finished, she was hoarse, though she left out a good many details, and her companions sat in silence. Mel cried several times during the telling, for Riders had perished and the news hadn’t reached her yet. Karigan wished the captain was better at keeping her daughter informed, but she understood the desire to protect her from worry. Better, however, for her to hear the truth of it before rumors reached her.
“That is quite a story,” Estral said, her eyes distant. Karigan wondered if she was already forming songs in her head about those events. “I’ve heard portions of it from different sources. You know, this is the sort of thing the people of Sacoridia ought to hear.”
“That’s your job,” Karigan said.
“It’s hard to do when no one steps forward to give us a firsthand account.”
“It’s not something you just, well, talk about.”
Estral chuckled. “You Riders have kept so many secrets for so long that trying to pry information out of you is next to impossible. People should hear of your accomplishments.” She then rose and added, “I think it is time for Mel to return to her dorm.”
Mel protested, but Estral was firm. With a fierce hug for Karigan, Mel obeyed and left the common room. Estral followed behind to escort her and said in parting, “We’ll talk more later.”
Later never seemed to arrive. Estral was caught up in classes—both teaching and attending—as well as taking care of any odds and ends left to her in her father’s absence. Over the course of several days, the most Karigan saw of her friend was only in passing and over hurried midday meals.
Meanwhile, Karigan and Fergal bided their stay in Selium by working with Master Rendle. Karigan assisted Rendle with many of his classes, while Fergal spent his extra time exploring the city. She suspected he even tried one of the public baths, but he wouldn’t admit it. When he wasn’t in the city, he followed Mel around, listening in bemusement as she chattered away about this and that. She was proud of her association with the Green Riders, and liked to show him off to her friends. About the only time Karigan saw him was at supper or during his sessions with Master Rendle.
One evening she wandered campus pathways to stretch her legs, remembering school days when she used to sneak out of her dorm to visit Estral. The two would chat deep into the night, Karigan returning to her bed just in time for the morning bell. She’d then spend most of her day drifting from class to class in a sleepy haze.
She smiled and struck off for the Golden Guardian’s residence, which lay outside the grouping of academic buildings and looked over the city. She had no idea if Estral would be in, but she yearned for a chat with her friend, just like in the old days.
As befitting the Golden Guardian, the house was large with symmetrical columns lining its front facade. Mellow lamplight filled a few of the windows on the bottom floor. Karigan mounted the granite steps and jangled the bell at the large door, which was embedded with a brass plaque in the shape of a harp.
Presently the door opened and a gentleman, attired in a dark velvet longcoat and high collar wrapped with a silk cravat, peered out at her, a lamp in his hand. “Yes?” he asked.
“Good evening, Biersly,” Karigan said. “I’m wondering if Estral is in.”
He beckoned her into the entry hall and placed his lamp on a table. “Please wait here one moment.” He turned on his heel and retreated down the hall. Karigan shook her head. Biersly knew who she was—she’d been a frequent visitor during her school years, yet he did not seem to recognize her.
The entry hall remained as Karigan remembered. Familiar masterworks of art and tapestries hung on the walls, and the same furniture sat where it always had been. It was both stylish and impersonal, the way the houses of other nobles and officials tended to be. It was the public space for visitors and dignitaries to enter and business to be conducted. The family quarters, with their more personal touches and belongings, were usually located on an upper floor. It was true of this house.
With slow, deliberate strides, Biersly returned. “Mistress Andovian will see you. Please follow me.”
Karigan could not help but imitate the butler’s lilting gait and serious demeanor as she followed him. To her surprise they bypassed the marble staircase that wound to the upper floor and instead headed for the back of the house toward the kitchen. The house, as they passed through it, exuded silence, and Karigan thought it odd for a place that housed the musically oriented Golden Guardian and his minstrel daughter. Of course, the Golden Guardian was rarely home.
The kitchen, too, was quiet, but they found Estral sitting there at the long, rough table in the spill of lamplight, with papers, pen, and ink before her. Gentle heat radiated from the cook stove behind her. When Estral looked up, Biersly halted and bowed. “Rider G’ladheon to see you, mistress.”
Estral smiled. “Thank you, Biersly. You’re dismissed for the evening.”
“Thank you, mistress.” He bowed again and departed.
Estral watched after him, still smiling. “It’s gaming night,” she said.
“What?”
“All the butlers gather in their favorite pub down in town to dice and such. I think it’s just an excuse to get together to gossip about their masters and mistresses.”
“Biersly?” Karigan asked. “Gambling?” Then she laughed, envisioning that solemn, proper man with his sleeves rolled up and a tankard of ale at his elbow as he rolled dice.
“That is quite a story,” Estral said, her eyes distant. Karigan wondered if she was already forming songs in her head about those events. “I’ve heard portions of it from different sources. You know, this is the sort of thing the people of Sacoridia ought to hear.”
“That’s your job,” Karigan said.
“It’s hard to do when no one steps forward to give us a firsthand account.”
“It’s not something you just, well, talk about.”
Estral chuckled. “You Riders have kept so many secrets for so long that trying to pry information out of you is next to impossible. People should hear of your accomplishments.” She then rose and added, “I think it is time for Mel to return to her dorm.”
Mel protested, but Estral was firm. With a fierce hug for Karigan, Mel obeyed and left the common room. Estral followed behind to escort her and said in parting, “We’ll talk more later.”
Later never seemed to arrive. Estral was caught up in classes—both teaching and attending—as well as taking care of any odds and ends left to her in her father’s absence. Over the course of several days, the most Karigan saw of her friend was only in passing and over hurried midday meals.
Meanwhile, Karigan and Fergal bided their stay in Selium by working with Master Rendle. Karigan assisted Rendle with many of his classes, while Fergal spent his extra time exploring the city. She suspected he even tried one of the public baths, but he wouldn’t admit it. When he wasn’t in the city, he followed Mel around, listening in bemusement as she chattered away about this and that. She was proud of her association with the Green Riders, and liked to show him off to her friends. About the only time Karigan saw him was at supper or during his sessions with Master Rendle.
One evening she wandered campus pathways to stretch her legs, remembering school days when she used to sneak out of her dorm to visit Estral. The two would chat deep into the night, Karigan returning to her bed just in time for the morning bell. She’d then spend most of her day drifting from class to class in a sleepy haze.
She smiled and struck off for the Golden Guardian’s residence, which lay outside the grouping of academic buildings and looked over the city. She had no idea if Estral would be in, but she yearned for a chat with her friend, just like in the old days.
As befitting the Golden Guardian, the house was large with symmetrical columns lining its front facade. Mellow lamplight filled a few of the windows on the bottom floor. Karigan mounted the granite steps and jangled the bell at the large door, which was embedded with a brass plaque in the shape of a harp.
Presently the door opened and a gentleman, attired in a dark velvet longcoat and high collar wrapped with a silk cravat, peered out at her, a lamp in his hand. “Yes?” he asked.
“Good evening, Biersly,” Karigan said. “I’m wondering if Estral is in.”
He beckoned her into the entry hall and placed his lamp on a table. “Please wait here one moment.” He turned on his heel and retreated down the hall. Karigan shook her head. Biersly knew who she was—she’d been a frequent visitor during her school years, yet he did not seem to recognize her.
The entry hall remained as Karigan remembered. Familiar masterworks of art and tapestries hung on the walls, and the same furniture sat where it always had been. It was both stylish and impersonal, the way the houses of other nobles and officials tended to be. It was the public space for visitors and dignitaries to enter and business to be conducted. The family quarters, with their more personal touches and belongings, were usually located on an upper floor. It was true of this house.
With slow, deliberate strides, Biersly returned. “Mistress Andovian will see you. Please follow me.”
Karigan could not help but imitate the butler’s lilting gait and serious demeanor as she followed him. To her surprise they bypassed the marble staircase that wound to the upper floor and instead headed for the back of the house toward the kitchen. The house, as they passed through it, exuded silence, and Karigan thought it odd for a place that housed the musically oriented Golden Guardian and his minstrel daughter. Of course, the Golden Guardian was rarely home.
The kitchen, too, was quiet, but they found Estral sitting there at the long, rough table in the spill of lamplight, with papers, pen, and ink before her. Gentle heat radiated from the cook stove behind her. When Estral looked up, Biersly halted and bowed. “Rider G’ladheon to see you, mistress.”
Estral smiled. “Thank you, Biersly. You’re dismissed for the evening.”
“Thank you, mistress.” He bowed again and departed.
Estral watched after him, still smiling. “It’s gaming night,” she said.
“What?”
“All the butlers gather in their favorite pub down in town to dice and such. I think it’s just an excuse to get together to gossip about their masters and mistresses.”
“Biersly?” Karigan asked. “Gambling?” Then she laughed, envisioning that solemn, proper man with his sleeves rolled up and a tankard of ale at his elbow as he rolled dice.
