That Thing She did with the Light
T he terrial’ada flowed over the land like water coursing over a riverbed.
They were untiring, and the countryside passed so swiftly that Karigan lost track of where they were until the city lay before them.
They blurred past cairns of the dead from the recent battle with Second Empire and across open land toward the main gate.
Riverrain gently eased to a trot and then a walk in their approach. A strand of hair that had come loose from one of her many pins and hair chain tickled her cheek. She brushed it back.
“You will need to speak to your people for us, Dama,” Telagioth said, “so they are not alarmed by the sudden appearance of Eletians at so late an hour.”
She nodded and rode ahead to the main gate while her companions waited some distance behind.
Two guards stood in the gateway just inside while others kept watch from the walls.
The two gazed curiously at her. She must be quite a sight in her gown riding a stallion of exquisite beauty without a saddle or bridle.
“You must state your business for entry after sundown,” one of the guards said.
“I am Rider G’ladheon and I’ve urgent business with the king.”
“Right, and I’m the Emperor of Illydria.”
His companion laughed.
Karigan was not in the mood for this. “Is Sergeant Keen on duty tonight?”
The “Emperor of Illydria” gave her another look. “No.”
“Look, I’m not on official duty,” Karigan said, “but I am a Green Rider, Rider G’ladheon, and I need to present my companions to the king.” She pointed back toward Telagioth, Lhean, and Shoshan sitting quietly on their steeds. “They are emissaries of Eletia.”
“No foreign folk without travel papers,” the guard said, “and how are we supposed to know you’re a Greenie? That’s no Greenie horse. Can you prove who you are?”
There were many guards in the city, and they rotated among the walls, gates, and the castle itself so that they didn’t become complacent and make mistakes.
It wasn’t surprising that some didn’t recognize her, especially out of uniform.
Her merchant rings and medallion would mean nothing to them.
They could not see her Rider brooch because of the spell that concealed it.
She carried no credentials with which to identify herself.
“Tell her to do that thing with the light,” said a guard up in one of the towers. “If she’s Rider G’ladheon, she can do the thing with that light like the night the city was burning.”
“You got that light?” the “Emperor” asked.
She sighed. She was reluctant to exhibit magic, especially Eletian magic, considering Sacoridian attitudes, and also the notoriety of using the moonstone the night of the fire had brought her.
However, if revealing her moonstone was what it took to prove her identity, it was better than spending a cold night outside the city walls when her need was to reach her king with the Eletian embassy.
She removed the moonstone from its special pocket and its glow grew upon her palm.
It captured the surprise on the faces of the guards.
It did not flare and expand like it had earlier during her confrontation with the wraith, nor like the night of the fire when it had seemed to touch the heavens, but its light was startling and pure, and could never be mistaken for evil.
“You’re her,” the guard standing beside the Emperor said. “You’re the Spirit of Light. You saved my gramma from the lower city when it was burning.”
“And my brother and his family,” said another on the wall.
Others added their voices to the chorus. Karigan doused her moonstone and placed it in her pocket. The world always seemed to sag when the light of a muna’riel was extinguished, and there were audible sighs among the guards.
“Right,” said the Emperor. “Sorry to detain you, Rider. You just don’t look, er, Riderly tonight.”
“Don’t I know it,” she muttered.
“Please proceed with your companions.”
When the Eletians rejoined her, they rode through the city.
Few were about to see them, and those who did shook their heads, thinking the fancy lady and her shining companions but a dream.
The quiet streets allowed them to ride swiftly and unhindered, and they received little resistance at the gate to the middle city.
At the castle gate, it took a moment, but the guards eventually recognized her and admitted them.
In the drive before the castle entrance, the soldier who came to take their horses looked upon the Eletians and terrial’ada in surprise.
“You need but refresh them with clean water,” Telagioth told the soldier. “And if you’ve pasturage where they could await us, it would ensure their comfort.”
“Take them to Rider stables,” Karigan said. “They’ll like our pasture. Tell Hep Rider G’ladheon sent you.” She then instructed him to ask Hep to send someone after Condor down in the city.
The man said he would do this, but he looked at Riverrain and the other horses with a puzzled expression on his face. “Uh...Halters? Lead ropes?”
“Simply guide them and they will follow,” Telagioth said. “They require no halters or lead ropes.”
The terrial’ada surrounded the man and looked expectantly at him. He cleared his throat. “This way.”
Karigan watched for a moment as the horses followed him in the direction of Rider stables; then she clutched her skirts and led the Eletians up the castle steps.
“Please find someone to inform the king that an embassy of Eletians has arrived to see him,” Karigan told a soldier inside the entrance.
When the soldier hesitated, shifting his gaze from her to the Eletians and then back again, he said, “And who shall I say accompanies them?”
“Rider G’ladheon.” Her exasperation came out in her voice. Could they not recognize her when she was not in green? Was she so transformed by a gown?
“Of course, Rider,” he said.
“Also, send runners for the king’s advisers and Captain Connly, too,” she told him.
She led the Eletians to the throne room where she once again had to explain who she was to the guards.
As they awaited the king, Telagioth gazed with interest at the ceiling of the throne room where Zachary’s ancestors were painted.
Lhean and Shoshan stood nearby in meditative peace.
In contrast, Karigan paced, her gown flowing around her ankles.
The skirts, she noted, were covered in Riverrain’s white hair.
Magical horses, indeed, shedding all over her fine gown.
Connly arrived first. He stumbled to a halt as he took in her appearance. “What in the name of the gods is going on?”
“Long story,” she said.
He sighed. “Usually is with you.”
He bowed to the Eletians as he was introduced.
The arrival of six Weapons preceded the entrance of Zachary and Estora, and counselors Tallman and Javien.
After Zachary and Estora sat upon their thrones and courtesies were exchanged, Zachary gave her a long look as if trying to make sense of her appearance along with the presence of three Eletians.
Self-consciously she pushed back loose strands of hair, but overall, she was proud of the fact that she was not covered in mud for once, and that her gown was in one piece.
She was pleased to realize she had come through the day’s experiences quite intact, and it was nice for a change.
She would have preferred time to freshen up and exchange her merchant’s garb for her uniform before entering the throne room, but it had not been possible.
She was afraid her gown, medallion, and clan rings were going to raise questions she’d rather not answer.
She had spoken to no one of Clan G’ladheon’s troubles.
“We are pleased to welcome emissaries from our ally, Eletia,” Zachary said. “To what may we owe this honor?”
“Firebrand,” Telagioth said, addressing Zachary with the name the Eletians used for him, “we have been sent forth with tidings for you, as well as for our Dama Cearing Asai’riel.”
Before he could say more, chairs were brought in so all could sit, and wine poured. A servant Estora had spoken to brought in a small amount of chocolate on a silver tray. The Eletians were delighted for it held some healthful benefit to them, aside from being delicious.
“You are most gracious hosts,” Telagioth said with a glitter in his eye. “It is our hope to visit the master of chocolate before we depart the city.”
“I am afraid the war has made the acquisition of sugar and cocoa required in the making of chocolate difficult,” Zachary explained.
“Master Gruntler may not be able to supply you as you wish, but we will make inquiries.” With a nod, Castellan Javien briefly left to arrange for “inquiries.” “This offering comes from the queen’s personal stores. ”
Telagioth bowed to Estora. “I thank you, most gracious lady.”
“It is my pleasure,” she replied.
When the castellan returned, Telagioth said, “The tidings I bring are both fair and grave, but the first would not be possible without the second. In Eletia, there is great rejoicing for our king has awakened from the Great Sleep to once more lead his people into war.”
“Your king?” Counselor Tallman said. “Do you mean . . .?”
“King Santanara,” Zachary said softly.
“It is so,” Telagioth replied.
A thrill of excitement coursed through Karigan. King Santanara was a legend of the Long War and she’d met him briefly during a passage into the past.
“This is momentous news,” Zachary said. “I do not pretend to understand how this is possible, but it is most welcome news.”
“One must not mistake the Great Sleep for total oblivion of the world,” Telagioth explained.
“Sleepers may maintain varying levels of awareness to what is happening. The roots of the tall trees in the Grove grow deep and vast into the earth, and the branches stretch far into the sky. It is possible to receive etheric impulses from afar even among the deepest of Sleepers. Our Ari-matiel Jametari also visited the Grove often to speak to his father, to tell him what he knew of the world. King Santanara decided it was time to awaken, which, alas, brings us to the grave tidings. He has felt that Mornhavon has also awakened and that conflict will soon be upon us, perhaps even before the arrival of spring.”
“So soon?” Zachary murmured. “We are aware of Blackveil stirring. Painfully so, but your king is certain Mornhavon will make his move this spring or sooner? If so, the news you bear is grave, indeed.”
“Yes, Firebrand,” Telagioth replied. “Only this night we’ve confirmation after an attack on our Dama.”
Zachary’s gaze whipped to Karigan, a wildness in his eyes. “Karigan?”