A Deepening Shadow
M ara grimaced as she followed the warden down steps into the lower level of the city jail. Ice slicked walls where water oozed through joints in the stone masonry.
“Careful,” the warden said, “the steps are slippery in some places.”
She descended gingerly with Ben and Fastion behind her.
They wore plain clothes, as did Mason and Ty up on the street, to prevent obvious connection to the Green Riders or Weapons, and thus the king.
When first she saw Fastion in garb other than his black uniform, she almost did not recognize him.
He looked more a dock worker than a warrior in his oilskin coat and his cap pulled low over his brow.
His Weaponly bearing, however, gave him away.
The dank mineral scent of stone and earth rose to meet them as they descended, but by the time they reached the bottom, it was overpowered by a miasma of mold, sickness, urine, and rot. She hoped that whatever was decomposing was a rodent and not a human.
The jail was a dismal place. A half-frozen cesspool had formed in the middle of a short passage. A couple sooty lanterns cast dim light revealing locked doors on either side, each with a peephole.
“This is unacceptable,” Ben muttered, watching where he stepped. “Inhumane.”
Mara’s foot splashed into a puddle of questionable fluids. “Ugh.” Despite the stone walls and heavy doors, she heard coughing and moans from occupied cells, and the muted tones of someone praying. As Ben had said, it was an inhumane place.
They arrived at the end of the passage and the warden turned to the door on their left.
He inserted the key into the lock. A rat scampered over the toe of Mara’s boot and she jumped back with a throttled cry.
Ben muttered oaths to himself about the conditions.
He very much stood up for the well-being of others, which, she supposed, was an appropriate attribute in a mender.
Fastion, conversely, remained a silent, solid presence behind them.
The warden handed her a lantern. “Door’s unlocked. You can sign the papers when you come up.” He sauntered back the way they had come and casually banged on one of the doors with his cudgel. “Shaddup in there!”
As if that would help anything, she thought.
The door to Karigan’s cell groaned on rusty hinges as she pulled it open. A dim rectangular shaft of light beamed through a tiny opening high up in the wall. It brought in some fresh air, but that air was icy.
“I’d better go in first,” Mara said. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to see what was inside, but she held her breath and entered.
The cell was just long enough to allow someone to lie full length and was very narrow.
Moldering straw was strewn about the floor.
Her light fell upon a figure sitting huddled in a corner.
“Karigan?” she said.
There was no answer.
In a few steps she was beside her friend and knelt down. She placed her hand on Karigan’s shoulder. “It’s Mara. We’re here to get you out of this place.”
Karigan opened her eye. A sign of life.
“We’re going to take you home,” Mara said.
“You could just leave me,” came the muffled reply, “and let me die.”
This was not good, not at all. “Karigan Helgadorf G’ladheon,” she said in her sternest voice, “your dying would be most inconvenient.”
Silence.
“It wasn’t easy finding out what happened to you,” Mara told her.
It had been Karigan’s secretary, Robert, who had guessed that she’d gone to the merchants guild.
The stallion, Aspen, still tied to the hitching post there had confirmed his suspicions, but it took bribing some of the attendants to find out what had happened to her.
Tracking her down had taken three long days.
Karigan coughed.
Uh oh, Mara thought. That didn’t sound good. “Let’s have a look at you.”
“No,” followed by a full on coughing fit.
“Stubborn G’ladheon,” Mara said. “Ben?”
Ben startled her by being right there. She hadn’t heard him step in behind her. The three of them were a crowd in the cell. Fastion remained in the doorway.
The blue healing glow already emanated from Ben’s hands. “Wet lungs,” he said. He leaned Karigan forward and pressed his hand against her back and the coughing stopped within moments. She sighed.
“I’ve soothed the worst of it, but it’ll require more work,” he said.
“Let’s see what else we’re up against.” He gently turned Karigan’s face into the light, revealing bruises, dried blood, a split lip, and a runny bloody nose.
Her one eye was red rimmed and swollen, more from crying, Mara thought, than the beating she’d received at the guild house.
Ben muttered to himself about cracked ribs, cuts, bruises, and possibly a concussion.
“Celesta kicked me in the head,” Karigan said. “Don’t remember much after that.”
Mara’s anger burned. Burned so much that sparks flew off the tips of her fingers. She drew her hand into a fist to snuff them out. She wanted to kick Celesta in the head even as Ben took inventory of Karigan’s injuries.
Robert had told them her grandfather had shown up at their office the day of her disappearance and informed her of her Aunt Stace’s death.
Mara could imagine Karigan’s grief driving her to action, in this case by confronting the guild masters about Clan G’ladheon’s standing, only to learn the clan was being banished from the guild.
Enraged by the tri umvirate’s decision, she had initiated the fight with the guild’s guards.
Or, at least, that was what they claimed.
She had fared well at first, but someone had called in the constabulary to assist, and she’d been overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
Perhaps Karigan’s reaction would have been less potent prior to having been tortured in the north almost a year ago, but afterward, she had changed.
Oh, the old Karigan was still there, but often a certain look in her eye, and a darkness that fell over her in quiet moments, marked all she’d endured.
“I can’t do much down here,” Ben said. “We need to get her out of here.”
“We are going home,” Mara told her.
Karigan did not move.
“Would you two give me a moment alone with her?” Mara asked.
Ben nodded and followed Fastion down the passage.
Mara knelt beside Karigan. “What can I do to help?”
“I’m so tired,” Karigan said. “I just want her back.”
Aunt Stace, Mara thought. A commanding figure who had been the leader of the aunts, as well as Karigan’s father, whether Stevic G’ladheon realized it or not.
A strong sensible woman who had raised a strong, stubborn niece.
Definitely a mother figure in Karigan’s life.
The woman who had stepped into that role after Karigan’s actual mother had died.
“I know, honey,” Mara said softly. “I know and I’m so sorry.” Gently, ever so gently, she folded Karigan into her arms and murmured reassurances as Karigan wept.
“I just want her back,” Karigan said over and over. “I just want to die.” Spent by days of grief, illness, and injury, she lacked even the energy to sob for very long.
“Aunt Stace would not want you to stay in this cell,” Mara told her. “In fact, from what I know of her, she’d think you were being ridiculous.”
“Why must I lose those I love?”
The mysterious Cade, Mara thought. Losing him had been another traumatic event in Karigan’s life, and they’d all lost friends among the Green Riders.
“It is hard to lose people we love, but don’t forget those of us who remain.
We, your friends, need you and want you with us.
Ghost Kitty and Condor need you. Your aunts really need you.
And what about your father? When he returns he will be so glad to see you.
” Then, daringly, she added, “And King Zachary. How would it be for him without you?”
Karigan sniffed but didn’t answer.
“Will you return to the castle with us?” Mara asked. “For their sake?”
She nodded.
Mara sent up a silent prayer of thanks. “Good, because you are coming with us whether you want to or not.”
Fastion and Ben returned immediately at her word.
They lifted Karigan to her feet and supported her out of the passage and up the stairs.
Mara glanced once more at the cell. She couldn’t help but think of it as a manifestation of Karigan’s despair.
She had healed physically from the torture of the previous year, but some part of her remained in the torturer’s workshop.
While Fastion and Ben helped Karigan out to their hired carriage, Mara signed the appropriate papers and was given Karigan’s clan ring, Eletian ring, and bonewood staff.
“She will have to stand before the judge next month,” the warden said.
“We are aware.”
She had learned from Robert, in the midst of their search for Karigan, that the G’ladheon fortune, for a variety of reasons, was almost nothing and Karigan had been working to keep the clan business solvent against many odds, a secret she’d been concealing from all.
There wasn’t even enough left in the G’ladheon coffers to bail her out.
The Riders had ended up pooling their savings in an effort to make bail.
When that was not enough, the Weapons had covered the greater amount.
From the look of things, if they had not gotten her out when they did, she might not have survived to her court date.
Ty and Fastion rode up front to drive the carriage.
Mara sat inside with Karigan, whom they’d wrapped in a warm cloak.
Karigan leaned against her, head on her shoulder, while Ben and Mason consulted and worked on mending her.
For now, word of Karigan’s arrest and release would not go beyond the Green Riders or the Weapons, unless the king or queen directly made an inquiry, of course.
Until now, Karigan had managed to keep the clan’s situation secret, and so her friends would honor her need for privacy in the matter for as long as she wished.
She had also wisely and conscientiously kept clan affairs separate from her position as a Green Rider to eliminate any appearance of impropriety in her dealings.
In so doing, any scandal with the merchants guild probably would not be linked back to the throne.
Not all Riders, Mara thought, would have gone to the lengths Karigan had to ensure no lines were crossed.
She loosely held Karigan’s hand with its bruised and swollen knuckles.
Once Karigan was feeling better, they would have a long talk about this situation.
Keeping clan business and Rider business separate was one thing, but carrying a secret of hardship was another.
Her friends would help where they could.
When they reached the castle, they pulled up to a servants entrance and pulled the hood up over Karigan’s head so the blood and bruises would not be visible.
She blearily looked out the carriage window. “Home,” she murmured.
“Yes,” Mara said. “Yes, it is.”