“As you have reminded me on various occasions,” he replied, “they are my Riders, and that includes you.”
Laren was not amused to have her words flung back at her. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes.” He nodded with a gleam in his eye. “You are their commander. I am sorry, Laren, but Weapons have their own agendas, and while Karigan is still, on the whole, a Green Rider, her abilities have developed in such a way that to contain them to a single discipline would be a disservice to the realm.”
Laren could only stare incredulously at him.
“Now that her status as an honorary Weapon has been formalized, there will be some additions to her uniform.”
Laren threw her hands in the air, and then paced up and down the gallery in agitation in an attempt to check her anger. The terriers bounded after her as if it were a game. Would it have hurt to have simply told her this was coming? When she halted once more before Zachary, his expression was more sympathetic.
“Laren, you are my oldest and dearest friend,” he said. “Truly, the elder sister I never had. I would never do anything to undermine your command or the integrity of the Green Riders. The acknowledgment of the Weapons is just that: an acknowledgment of deeds accomplished and the esteem in which they’ve held her for a while now. In dire need, they may call upon her, but otherwise, she won’t be diverted from her regular duties. Isn’t that right, Ellen?”
From her post by the wall, the Weapon replied, “Yes, sire.”
Laren folded her arms. She had, of course, known Karigan was in swordmaster initiate training, which, if all went well, would lead to swordmaster status. She’d known the Weapons held her in some esteem. That they would formalize it did make her feel as if they were taking something of her Green Rider away, no matter what Zachary said. And would it have been so hard for them to say something ahead of time? Yes, Weapons had their own agenda, but it did not have to mean a lack of professional courtesy. She would have a word with Les Tallman, one of the king’s advisors and the head of the Weapons. While she was at it, she would go after Drent, too.
“There may be other tests ahead for her,” Zachary said.
“What do you mean?” She could not keep the suspicion from her voice.
“She is a swordmaster of the first order now. There are four levels, the fourth being when one becomes a Weapon.”
“Are you expecting Karigan to become a full Weapon?”
“No. Not while she hears the Rider call.”
“And what level are you?”
“Third. As high as I can go as king, since I can’t be a Weapon, too.”
Laren gazed down into the quiet main hall once again. Few people moved about, none in a hurry. Suddenly she felt very tired, her joints aching.
Zachary placed his hand on her shoulder. “I understand if you are angry with me,” he said in a subdued voice. “None of this was meant as an offense to you. Having a Rider who is a swordmaster, that is a worthy honor to your leadership.”
He could make nice all he wanted, she thought, but it did not alleviate the sting of her command being undermined. She narrowed her eyes at him. “The sword.”
“What sword?”
“The one Karigan was carrying. Where did it come from?”
“One of the finest smiths in the land.”
“That is not what I meant. A swordmaster either has a patron who buys the sword, or they must come up with the funds to purchase one themselves. I am guessing it was not her father who bought it for her. He probably has no idea his daughter is now a swordmaster.” He was going to love that. “Does Karigan have a patron?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Moonling,” she said. “Does she know it is from you?”
“No, and she will not. My orders are that she is not to be told. She didn’t take well to the last gift I tried to give her.”
The two of them, Zachary and Karigan . . . It was hopeless. At least from Zachary’s end. Karigan, with her loss of Cade, was likely too involved in her grief to be thinking much about Zachary.
“You are only making it harder on yourself,” she said.
“Perhaps. But please do not lecture me, Laren. I have a wife who is carrying our children. I know my duty.”
“Does it have to be just duty?” Laren asked.
He grew quiet, his expression softening. “Estora is a remarkable woman. I am very fortunate. It is not just duty.” Then his gaze sharpened. “But do not deny me the pleasure of bestowing a gift on one whom . . .” He faltered as if searching for the right words. Then, “It is a gift she can use to preserve her life, and I am glad to give it.”
“I won’t lecture you for all that you called me the elder sister you never had. It gladdens me that you see Estora as more than duty. I care deeply about you and have ever desired your happiness.”
“I know.”
“So,” she said, “when do the Eletians want to send their guide north?” The sooner Karigan was sent away, she thought, the better for Zachary. And Estora.
“I have not said I’ve agreed to this mission,” he replied, “though it seems a likely course. As soon as they sense winter breaking is all they told me.”
Not exactly definitive, Laren thought, but there were ways to keep Karigan busy and out of Zachary’s sight in the meantime.
THE FIRE WITHIN
Zachary Davriel Hillander, king of Sacoridia, swordmaster, husband to the lady of Coutre, and soon-to-be father, watched as his old friend walked away to retire for the night. He saw how stiffly she moved, and was aware, though she would never tell him herself, how the use of her ability in his service, combined with years of injuries and knocks and tumbles in the course of her work, caused her recurrent pain. He wondered if it would always be so, that those closest to him should suffer. According to the counselors he’d inherited from his father when he first assumed the throne, he was not, as king, supposed to concern himself with such matters. His only concern was supposed to be that those who served him did so well. They were his tools, he was told. When they wore out, they should be discarded and replaced.