“That goes for the whole cartload of ’em,” Colin said. “The lord-governors.”
The grumpy disgust in his voice made Laren and Zachary—both tired by the long day themselves—laugh.
“Truly,” the king said, as the laughter died down, “as much as those border people disdain governance, they are within our borders. With no lord to speak for them, especially to the likes of Hedric D’Ivary, they’ve only me.”
“And not the sense to appreciate it,” Colin muttered.
Hear, hear, Laren thought. The border people had no notion of the champion they had in their king. They certainly wouldn’t thank him for it even if they knew. Non-interference was what they desired in their lives—until they needed help, of course. While she agreed with Zachary’s support of them, it would not endear him further to the lord-governors, or to the hardworking folk of the provinces who faithfully paid their taxes and obeyed king’s law.
Before they could speak further, there was a commotion at the throne room entrance. A boy in the livery of the Green Foot burst through the doorway and hustled down the throne room runner. Laren and Zachary exchanged glances, wondering what else could possibly happen this day.
The boy slid to his knees before the king, and Laren grimaced at the clumsy obeisance, but she observed the hint of an amused smile lingering on Zachary’s lips. Perhaps he remembered himself as a boy.
“Rise, lad,” he said.
The boy did so, cheeks pink from running. He was no more than eleven years old with a mop of sandy hair falling over his eyes.
“You’ve a message for King Zachary, Josh?” Laren asked.
The boy looked startled to hear his name issue from her lips. The runners of the Green Foot regarded her as rather imposing, she knew, from discussions with Gerad, their leader.
“Ma’am . . . Captain,” the boy faltered, with a slight tremble to his lower lip. “Yes’m. I’ve a message.”
The Green Foot consisted of fleet youngsters—many of them offspring of the lesser nobility or favored servants—who ran messages about the castle. They were placed here to learn the ways of court, and to attend the castle’s little school, definitely a boon to those with impoverished families. Melry, Laren’s adopted daughter, had run messages for the Green Foot before going off to school in Selium.
Unlike Green Riders, they fulfilled no magical calling to do their work, nor were they gifted with any special abilities. Laren did not oversee their day to day operations, but Gerad reported to her as a formality.
Because the Green Foot did resemble the Riders—they wore messenger green with little winged feet embroidered in gold on their sleeves—and because they were, after all, messengers serving an important function, Laren made sure she knew each youngster’s name, and that they understood their responsibilities and proper conduct in court. She would speak to Gerad later about Josh’s rather graceless demeanor before the king.
Josh turned to the king but looked at his feet. “Word has been passed up from the main gate that Major Everson and Captain Ansible have ridden through the first wall and are on the Winding Way this very moment.”
Laren immediately forgave the boy any impropriety whatsoever, even those as yet uncommitted. The delegation—at least its last remnant—had finally come home.
RETURNINGS
After Josh’s announcement, the sleepy throne room came to life. Servants were beckoned and Josh was sent off to alert the mending wing to prepare for the arrival of the wounded. Word was sent to barracks and stables to prepare as well.
A table was brought out and set with food and drink, and pages came through lighting extra lamps as the last glint of daylight waned in the west side windows. Sperren continued to snooze in his chair, not at all disturbed from his dreams by the commotion. Laren, Zachary, and Colin waited, and for Laren, the waiting was intolerable.
When Ty had ridden ahead with news of the attack on the delegation, he told them all he knew at the time. That had been several weeks ago. Now that the others had made their way home, perhaps holes in his story could be filled in. The waiting would be over.
It would be over, too, for those wanting word of their loved ones. Laren could see in her mind’s eye people gathered at the castle gate, straining to glimpse the return of a husband, sister, father . . . Some would end their evening rejoicing, others in heartbreak.
It had been hard enough, she thought, to see Ty riding onto the castle grounds on Ereal’s Crane. She had known instantly what it meant. And then to hear of Bard, too . . .
She tried to shudder away the dark thoughts, but they clung to her like her very own shadow. It was a shadow that grew darker and heavier with the passing of each Rider under her command, and she wondered if it had been the same for every other captain that had preceded her.
Successions of Green Foot runners brought news of the delegation’s progress. The bulk of it was slowed down by carts carrying the wounded, but Major Everson and Captain Ansible rode ahead with an escort. And, oh yes, the runner told Laren, the Green Rider was with them, too.
At that, Laren took heart and loosed a sigh of relief, much more loudly than intended, and Colin glanced sharply at her. She didn’t care. All her Riders were now accounted for. Karigan had come home.
Not long after the ringing of nine hour, Neff the herald hurried down the runner to inform them that they had at last arrived.
The three entered slowly, for Captain Ansible leaned heavily on a crutch that looked to be fashioned from a stout tree branch. Major Everson and Karigan kept pace with him out of deference. Ansible looked to have aged a hundred years—his skin had gone gray from sickness, and his chin and now-gaunt cheeks were covered by silvery beard bristles. His uniform, such as it was, hung from his shoulders. It was quite a change from the impeccable officer she knew him to be.