Awaiting Judgment
K arigan, still on light duty, helped Tegan with scheduling and managing the Riders.
It helped keep her mind off her forthcoming day in court.
One afternoon, after an errand in heavy snowfall, Megan dramatically straggled into the common room, balls of snow melting in her trail, and fell into a chair.
“Why is this my life?” she demanded.
Other Riders who’d also carried messages in the inclement weather cast her irritated glances.
“If only I could float my way around,” she grumbled.
“Half the city would think you a sorceress and come after you with pitchforks,” Gil said.
“I know, I know. Don’t use your ability in public or frivolously.” She pouted. “But I like frivolous things.”
“The wind might blow you to the next province,” Daro told her, “and then you’d pass out in the snow.”
Megan sighed. “It is useless to have an ability that is so useless .”
“Your ability to float was not so useless during the war with Second Empire,” Karigan reminded her. “In fact, it was very important.”
Megan looked astonished to hear anyone say something positive about her. “Well, that’s true,” she said, brightening.
Karigan did her best to raise the spirits of the Riders working through a rough winter. She served them cups of creamy hot tea and kauv, meat rolls, muffins, and butter tarts from the kitchens.
“At least the daylight is getting longer,” Karigan told Tegan later that afternoon. “Day of Aeryon will be here before we know it.”
“I am sensing a major blizzard before winter’s end,” Tegan replied, “and we’ll get snow into spring as always. The good thing is that it melts faster.”
The next day as Karigan cut through the inner castle gardens, chickadees and nuthatches hopped among the snowy branches of shrubbery.
She chanced upon Estora standing still as a statue wrapped in a cloak lined with ermine, her hood loosely draped upon her head, her cheeks pink with the cold.
Birds alighted on her hand and wrist to take seed that was cupped in her palm.
She seemed a myth come to life, a snow queen amid her frosty domain of fanciful clumps and bumps of snow that concealed the gardens.
Her silent guardians in black stood at a discreet distance and did not move to intercept Karigan.
She decided to divert her path so as not to disturb Estora, but the statue came to life.
“Karigan,” Estora said, “do not go away.”
Karigan halted and bowed. “I did not wish to bother you.”
“I am taking in the fresh air,” Estora said. “You are not bothering me.” When her hand was free of birds, she tossed the remaining seed to the snow.
“How are you?” Karigan asked.
“Perfectly well, unless you count the children teething. Their nurses do their best to ease them, but it is difficult to hear their crying.”
“So, it’s not just fresh air you need?”
Estora gave her a rueful look. “The silence is wonderful. It is so peaceful, and I can stand here and imagine the reawakening of the gardens. Truth be told, it’s almost as if I can feel the roots in the soil restless to grow.”
“Will it be vegetable gardens again?” Karigan asked.
“Mostly, until the threat of Mornhavon has passed.”
Karigan noted there was no “if” in her statement.
“I’ve asked the gardeners to restore a small section this spring,” Estora continued. “Even in the worst of times, we require beauty to remind us of what we fight for.”
Karigan opened her mouth to speak when an episode of vertigo swept her among the clouds and presented her with a dizzying eagle’s view of the gardens.
They were verdant and in full bloom, but a darkness appeared in a corner and grew and grew.
The dark minions of Mornhavon spilled into the gardens, trampling, hacking, and burning the greenery.
Her view expanded to include the castle and its grounds.
The enemy swarmed over the walls and onto walkways where they vastly outnumbered the defenders.
The sheer mass of them swallowed soldiers and civilians alike, and spread like a voracious disease as they pushed into the castle, and even upon its roof.
Smoke roiled from windows. The castle courtyard was completely black.
The vision faded just as quickly as it had come, and she plummeted Earthward and would have fallen to her knees if strong hands had not caught her.
After another wave of dizziness, she blinked in the daylight and glare of snow, and found Estora, Travis, and Erin gazing at her in concern.
Or, at least Estora did. The Weapons were unreadable.
Estora clutched her mittened hands. “Are you with us?”
“Y-yes. I can stand on my own now, thanks.”
The Weapons let her go, hovered a moment to make sure she didn’t fall face-first into the snow, then moved to the distance. Estora, however, still gripped her hands.
“You began to slip away,” Estora said. “Not so much as before, but you began to fade away.”
“I thought I was done with these episodes.” Karigan glanced around the courtyard gardens to reassure herself all was well. To her relief, no darkness, no shadows, defiled them.
“What did you see?”
Karigan hesitated, not wishing to relive the scene or cause Estora concern, but this was not the sort of thing one kept to herself.
It was, she thought, significant. She described it to Estora, and in the light of day, in the chill air, it seemed more a bad dream than what might actually be a vision of what could be.
She almost felt silly about it, but not entirely.
“I don’t know if it’s a true vision, or a future vision,” she concluded, “but it’s what I was shown. My abilities are not along the lines of foretelling the future.”
“Still,” Estora said, “Zachary must be told. If it is a foretelling, we are warned to redouble our efforts to prepare for Mornhavon’s invasion. Our king is in meetings with the Rhovan embassy all day, but I’ll tell him in the evening.”
The city bell rang the hour.
“Oh, no,” Karigan said. “I must run—I’ve a meeting myself with Masters Winston and Chester.”
“Your court day is tomorrow, yes?”
“It is.”
“Then I wish you all the luck.” Estora squeezed her hands and then released them.
Whatever the outcome of her court case, Karigan thought as she rushed off, it would be meaningless in the scheme of the world if her vision came true.
· · ·
That night, Karigan took care of her bedtime ablutions and crawled under the covers.
She twisted and turned for some time, plagued by the what-ifs of her court case.
Eventually she drifted off, but abruptly woke feeling like she was not alone.
A cold sweat made her shiver. Ghost Kitty perched on her belly with his fur standing on end and growled into the dark.
She sensed no ghosts and tried to tell herself it was nothing, and had almost convinced herself it was so when a dim figure in gray appeared in the glowing coals of her hearth.
“You did not think you were so easily free of me, did you?” asked Shawdell the Eletian.