The High King's Tomb

by Kristen Britain

  Lady Estora preceded Laren out of the parlor and waited for her in the corridor. Laren joined her after taking leave of Lady Coutre.

  “Thank you,” Lady Estora told her once the door was shut.

  “For what?” Laren asked in surprise.

  “For the excuse to leave. Make no mistake, I am grateful to be with my family and in safety once again, but I am bored unto tears. Needlework! I can’t bear it.”

  “Ah,” Laren said. “That will happen after you’ve been riding with Green Riders. Nothing is the same again.”

  “Exactly!” Lady Estora’s smile was radiant. “And I’ve wanted to thank you and your Riders, especially Karigan and Fergal, for their courage and help. They were wonderful. I don’t know what would have become of me if they hadn’t put themselves at great risk.”

  “They were doing their job,” Captain Mapstone said, nevertheless feeling a surge of pride for her Riders.

  “Yes, but I wish they’d receive some official recognition for their service.”

  “Oh,” Laren said with a knowing grin, “no need to worry about that. However, there is something else that has been on my mind for some months now. We need to talk, and we need to do so someplace where we won’t be overheard.”

  Lady Estora’s pleasure at seeing Laren faded from her face. “I see. I know of a place we can speak freely.”

  And frankly, Laren hoped.

  Lady Estora led her to Zachary’s old study, which was now a queen’s solarium, though it remained barren of furniture or ornament, and was freezing. Footsteps and voices rang hollow, and the light that flowed through the windows was winter cold.

  The two women stood there, speaking as frankly as Laren could ever wish, and speaking together as only two women could, about Lady Estora’s future, the king, the country, and—most of all—F’ryan Coblebay.

  Lady Estora proved to be a mix of nobility and humility, grief and despair. But she was strong, and Laren expected no less of her.

  Finally, after the exchange of many words and some well-spent tears, Lady Estora said, “It would be a relief to get this over with.”

  “I understand.” Then, moved by Lady Estora and her situation, Laren took the noblewoman’s hands into her own. “My lady, I know Zachary very well. I knew him when he was a young terror in these halls, keeping me on my toes constantly; and he’s grown into a thoughtful and compassionate man. Yes, he has a temper that flares now and then, but honestly, I have met no finer man than he. He listens and judges fairly, and he thinks very highly of you.”

  “He does?” Lady Estora seemed genuinely surprised.

  Laren gave her hands a gentle squeeze, and nodded. “This sort of thing is never easy, but he will not be rash in his judgment. You must trust me on this.”

  She arranged for them to meet with Zachary the very next day. She was glad he agreed to it so soon, because she did not know how well Lady Estora’s nerves would hold up if the wait was a prolonged one.

  The two women arrived at the solarium at the appointed time and Laren saw that she shouldn’t have worried about Lady Estora, for her entire demeanor was resolute.

  It had snowed overnight, and the gardens outside the windows had turned into a fairyland of lumps and drifts and soft shapes, unsullied so far except by the tiny tracks of birds and squirrels. Snowflakes whirled down in gentle flurries, muting the light.

  The two waited in silence for Zachary to arrive. When the knock finally came, they both turned toward the door.

  “Please enter,” Laren said.

  Zachary stepped into the solarium leaving his attendants outside. She watched him assess the two women standing before him and the barrenness of the room in one swift gaze and saw that he was curious and perhaps a trifle nervous.

  They exchanged courtesies and Zachary said, glancing at the unlit hearth, “It is cold in here. I could have—”

  “No, thank you,” Lady Estora said.

  He looked from her to Laren, and back again. “Is the solarium not to your liking? I could have Cummings arrange for—”

  Lady Estora raised her hand in a gesture that requested his silence. “We do not wish to discuss the solarium, my lord, but know it is a gift that is most welcome and appreciated.”

  Zachary stroked his beard. “Then what do you wish to discuss?” He gave an uneasy half smile. “Singly you are each formidable women, but I must admit that facing both of you here together, you are more intimidating than an opposing army.”

  Laren tried to reassure him with a smile of her own. “We are not opposing you. Do not worry on that count! But do keep it in mind for the future when you are married.” She meant it in jest, but if this meeting in fact went well, and the wedding proceeded as planned, she suspected he’d continue to find Lady Estora a formidable woman, one who would not bend to his every wish. One who would not break the moment difficulty struck. She would stand by his side even if Mornhavon the Black himself stood on the castle steps with all his hordes behind him. She was a gentlewoman, but one with much hidden strength. One who should not be underestimated.

  “I shall keep it in mind,” he said with a nod of his head. “But please, what is this about? I am not sure I can take the suspense much longer.”

  “It’s about a secret,” Laren replied. “A secret that my Riders and I have been honor-bound to keep for some years now.”

  “What? Laren, you have never kept anything from me. At least so I supposed until now…”

  She saw his hurt, and a touch of anger. “We’ve not been keeping it from just you, but from everyone.”

  “They’ve done so to protect me,” Lady Estora said before he could interject.

  “I don’t understand,” Zachary said. “What is this secret?”

  “It begins with my arrival to court,” Lady Estora said. “Your father was still regnant, though near the end of his illness. I was here for his funeral and for your coronation.”

  “I remember,” he said.

  Lady Estora was plainly surprised. “You do?”

  Again, the uneasy half smile. “Forgive me, my lady, but there were few young men who wouldn’t.”

  She nodded slowly as if she’d heard such things often enough. “You must also guess I was terrified being at court for the first time. Timid, shy. I had never traveled far from home and my parents left me here with only my old nurse and cousin as guardians. My cousin’s job was to show me off as bait for a proper suitor.”

  This last held an underlying tone of bitterness, but she only spoke truth.

  Lady Estora glided over to the windows and gazed out to the garden beneath its blanket of snow. She spoke as if to herself. “I was lonely. More lonely than you can imagine. Here I was in a strange city, with customs that were, frankly, different from those at home. Many believed Coutre a backward province, and that I must be an ignorant bumpkin, hence unfashionable and uninteresting. Others, those among my rivals, were perhaps jealous of the attention I received from the suitors they desired for themselves. I was not accustomed to the games played in court, the machinations, the blades thrust into one’s back, and so I withdrew. Sought solace elsewhere, away from the social world of court. It all would have been intolerable if not for F’ryan Coblebay.”

  “F’ryan Coblebay?” Zachary said in surprise. “Your Rider?” he asked Laren. “The one whom Karigan—”

  “Yes, F’ryan Coblebay,” Laren replied. “Your Rider, and one of the best. And yes, Karigan completed his final mission. He died trying to bring you information about your brother’s intention to steal your throne.”

  “Yes,” he said quietly, “I remember.”

  “Do you remember him?” Lady Estora asked.

  “I do,” Zachary replied, “though I did not know him well. It is impossible for me to know well all who serve me.”

  Lady Estora left the windows to once more stand before him. She held her back straight and her gaze was unwavering. “Then I wish to tell you about F’ryan Coblebay.”

  Zachary remained sil
ent, but Laren could not discern whether he was confused, upset, or just being polite. In any case, Lady Estora began her story, of a chance meeting with F’ryan in the gardens, and how this first encounter led to other intentional meetings.

  “F’ryan offered me friendship and companionship,” Lady Estora explained, “when I could find it nowhere else. He made me laugh, took me on rides into the country, and strolled with me in the gardens. Because of him, the Riders allowed me into their world. We played card games and sang songs in the common room of the old barracks.” She smiled faintly in memory. “My nurse was really quite ancient, so it was not difficult to steal away.”

  Zachary did not comment or ask questions. He simply listened.

  “F’ryan was a wonderful man,” Lady Estora continued. “Always he saw the good in people. He could be serious if the situation warranted, but he was much the jester as well. The stories he told made me blush! And they’d leave me in tears from laughter. He was reckless and daring, but also the first to nurse an ill barn kitten back to health.”

  Laren found herself immersed in her own recollections of F’ryan. He’d been a damn fine Rider, dispatching messages in record time, charming the nobles, taking on some of the most difficult errands with seeming ease, and escaping one impossible situation after another without apparent effort. Tall, strong, and clever, and not to mention a swordmaster initiate, he seemed to defy the gods and death. Until the arrows.

  Until the arrows…

  She could not forget—would not forget—the sight of his arrow-pierced body in the back of an undertaker’s cart. Her Rider, the living, breathing man who beat her at Knights, who always had a cheerful word for her, who ardently loved his country and fellow Riders. He’d been so strong, so alive. How could he have become that body, that corpse of putrefying flesh lying in that dirty cart? How?

  And so she wondered about all the Riders who perished under her command. How could such life simply be snuffed out like a candle?

  “Without your Rider, F’ryan Coblebay,” Lady Estora told Zachary, “I would not have survived my first months in court. As you may guess, as time went on, we fell in love.”

  At first Zachary did not react, but then nodded slowly, as if it was what he expected all along. “I’m sorry I did not know him better. I can certainly understand how you came to love a…this Rider, and I am sorry for the grief you’ve suffered at his loss.”

  “Yes,” Lady Estora murmured. “I grieve for him still. I knew his job as a king’s messenger was perilous, but I thought him…I thought him invulnerable. And yet, somewhere deep within, I must have known. I must have known that Westrion hovered not far from him.” She paused.

  Laren waited. Zachary waited.

  Lady Estora tilted her chin up and gazed steadily at Zachary. “I must have sensed death awaited him. Before his final errand, I gave all of myself to him, and more than once, and I do not regret it no matter what shame it may bring me.”

  The three stood there, as silent and still as statues. The wind tossed eddies of snow against the windows. The cold of the room reached up through the floor, numbing Laren’s toes in her boots, and crept up her spine so that it ached.

  The air was ripe with potential, but whether that potential held an outburst of anger or simple acceptance, she could not predict. For all that Laren knew Zachary well, matters of the heart were tricky and he rarely gave her insight into his own feelings on the subject. Only her powers of observation allowed her to recognize his feelings for Karigan. That was a topic for another meeting some other time, and she did not look forward to it.

  “You do understand,” Laren told Zachary, “the courage Lady Estora is showing by coming to you with this. She did not wish for you to find out on your wedding night.”

  “I do,” he replied, his voice toneless.

  “Do you? Lord Coutre—”

  “Lord Coutre,” Zachary snapped, “loves his daughter. I know how much, for I saw the effect the abduction had on him.”

  Lady Estora dropped her gaze to the floor, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

  “But—” Laren began.

  He cut her off with a curt gesture. “I know he is strict. I know how conservative Coutre Province is compared to other regions of Sacoridia. I know. And I know also there was a time before the abduction that Lord Coutre would have disowned his daughter had he heard of her relationship with F’ryan Coblebay.”

  “But if you decide—”

  Zachary turned full on to Laren. “I am not Lord Coutre, and this is not his province. I know what would happen if I considered the marriage contract breached. And for what? Because of love? For love of a man who has been dead more than two years?” He shook his head, incredulous. “I don’t like secrets, Captain, but in this case, I understand. You did well to guard Lady Estora’s honor.”

  “It was F’ryan’s wish that we watch over her, protect her,” Laren said, her heart surging with hope.

  “And I will ask you to continue to do so,” he said more softly. “I see no reason for this secret to be revealed to anyone else. At this point, I don’t think Lord Coutre could bring himself to cast out his daughter. And why should he when I am still agreeing to wed her and she will be queen? Still, I think there is no reason to tell him.”

  Laren wanted to shout in triumph, but remained quiet and still. This was the response she had hoped for. This was the Zachary she knew.

  He turned to Lady Estora and lifted her chin with a forefinger. “My lady, this is a brave thing you have done, to bring me the truth even while knowing what the consequences might have been. Truth often requires courage, and I hope there will only be truth between us when we are wed. You are a credit to your clan and lineage, and I believe F’ryan Coblebay was fortunate to have known you, even as you felt fortunate to have him help you through difficult times.”

  Estora sobbed and Zachary produced a handkerchief for her as if by magic.

  “Well then,” Laren said brightly. “There’s one more thing I wish to bring up.”

  Zachary looked at her stricken. “There’s more?”

  She smiled. “Indeed. When are you going to take Lady Estora into your confidence and ask that she attend to court business with you? Better she learn now rather than after she’s been crowned. Don’t you think?”

  “I think, Captain Mapstone,” he said in a wry tone, “you should take over the job of running the country. After all, you seem to be running my life pretty well.”

  “I must decline, Your Highness. Running your life is pleasure enough.”

  KNIGHT OF THE REALM

  When Karigan learned there was to be a ceremony to officially thank those involved in the rescue of Estora, she supposed it to be a simple one in which the king and Lord Coutre expressed their appreciation and that would be that. She was surprised when it turned out to be more.

  Every available Rider was to attend, and to wear their formal uniforms, consisting of gold sashes, longcoats, and stocks. Karigan’s saber had been returned to her and now it hung comfortable and familiar at her side. Estora reassured her she’d not drawn it even once during her escape.

  The Riders walked in a loose formation through castle corridors with Captain Mapstone, Connly, and Mara at their head. The captain wore the ancient horn of the First Rider over her shoulder and Connly bore the shimmering banner of the Green Riders.

  Courtiers, soldiers, servants, and administrators had to step aside to allow the massed Riders to pass and Karigan wondered what they thought of the procession. Had Riders ever made such a show in the castle before? Not in many lifetimes, she bet, and her heart swelled with pride.

  When they arrived in the throne room, she found it filled with an ample number of courtiers, Estora, and members of her family; Weapons, Castellan Sperren, and Colin Dovekey, and much to her surprise, General Harborough and Arms Master Drent, the latter scowling.

  Standing solitary and solemn upon the dais was King Zachary in black and silver. Several commendations were handed out
to both Riders and Weapons for their actions in rescuing Estora and securing the tombs from Second Empire. Beryl received a special commendation in recognition of long service, though details of that service went unspoken.

  Karigan thought that was to be it, but then she and Fergal were singled out and commanded by the king to come before him. Drent stepped over and stood before Karigan, glaring at her. She’d never seen him in full uniform before and she thought the buttons of his black longcoat would pop off or his shoulder muscles might burst the seams. He clutched papers and looked none too happy. Maybe his collar was too tight. Or he had indigestion, or…

  “It seems a certain Arms Master Rendle thinks you are worthy of commencing swordmaster initiate training,” he said, his tone indicating a difference in opinion. “Rendle! Hmph. He has offered to sponsor you as an initiate and will come to Sacor City to train you if I won’t. I therefore have little choice but to commence your training. First thing tomorrow morning. I’ve been easy on you so far, Rider. Be prepared. We’ve also the matter of missing throwing knives to discuss.”

  Karigan swallowed hard and felt a bead of perspiration glide down her temple. This was the thanks she got for helping rescue Estora? While she was pleased Rendle thought so much of her skills, she was not so sure he realized what he was getting her into.

  Next Lord Coutre came forward with a general of the Coutre provincial militia, bearing a cherrywood coffer. He said, “You rescued my daughter, the future queen of our land, and brought her home safely. I cannot express the depth of my gratitude, for I value nothing more than my family. I love my daughter deeply and never wanted any harm to befall her if it was in my power to protect her. When my power failed, you prevailed.”

  Karigan glanced at Estora and was surprised by the stricken expression she found on her friend’s face. Had Estora not known the depth of her father’s love?

  “I have here,” Lord Coutre continued, “but a token of my appreciation for what you have done. It is the highest award from Coutre Province, yet still a token. The Order of the Cormorant.”