An Old Saddle
O ver the following days, Karigan was given time off to recover from her injuries. At first she enjoyed bundling herself beneath her blankets and reading novels with a cup of tea at her side.
Soon she grew restless, however, and left her chamber, wearing the very annoying sling as Ben required.
Her fellow Riders were too busy to play games in the common room.
When she wandered down to the chapel to visit Brother Leon, he had his hands full with a needy parishioner, so she lit another candle for Aunt Stace.
“You kept me alive,” she murmured. “I miss you, but I know you are still with me.”
Back in her chamber she couldn’t even work on Rider accounts. She might be able to fight with a sword left-handed, but she couldn’t write legibly left-handed, so Mara had passed the ledgers on to Ty, who did not thank Karigan.
She’d go to the field house to work her left arm with some sword practice, but Ben had forbidden it.
She was afraid she was going to fall behind on her training, but there was little she could do about it.
There was, as far as she was concerned, only one other option for keeping herself occupied—a visit to Rider stables.
She couldn’t muck out stalls, but she could pet all the horses, even Maddie.
Her decision made, she put her coat on, or at least the left side, and draped the right over her shoulder.
When she reached stables, she discovered, to her disappointment, all the horses were out either on errands, or in the pasture. Condor visited her at the fence, but then ran off with his friends, tossing his head and bucking like a colt.
She stepped into stables to warm up and paused to pet Ham the barn cat. He greeted her with a crooked tail and resounding purr. At least someone was willing to spend time with her.
To her surprise, she found Hep and Darys by the tack room with all kinds of gear piled in the center aisle.
“That’s some nose you got there, Rider,” Darys said.
“Uh, thanks,” she replied.
Ben had prophesized she’d get all kinds of comments about her broken nose and he hadn’t been wrong. It remained swollen and she’d bruises under her eyes. It was not a pretty sight and she avoided mirrors.
“What are you two up to?” she asked.
She learned they had gotten it into their heads to thoroughly clean the tack room while they had some time and they pulled her into the process to sort bits and pieces of leather into piles—one for gear that could be repaired and reused, and another for discards beyond help.
She sneezed repeatedly as they disturbed multiple layers of dust and dirt. They found some very odd pieces of moldering tack in the dark corners, including an unusually large messenger saddle that Darys pulled out. He paled.
“Are you all right?” she asked, tossing a rusty bit onto the discard pile.
“This is the one I put on him.”
“Him who?” Hep asked.
“The magic horse.” Then he whispered, “Valstarian.”
Karigan studied it. She hadn’t paid much attention to the saddle the stallion had been wearing when he carried her from the wintry grip of the countryside to the castle, but it did look familiar.
She refrained from mentioning she’d sat in it.
Darys knew she’d ridden Valstarian before, but bringing up her latest ride would inevitably lead to more questions about who and what Valstarian was, and why she got to ride the “magic horse.”
“Here’s where the arrowhead is stuck in it,” Darys said, pointing at the puncture in the leather. “How’d the saddle get back?”
That was a good question, she thought. Probably the same way she’d ended up in Zachary’s bed. She was not going to mention that either.
“He’s a magic horse,” Hep said. “I s’pose he could put it back himself.”
“But I had to put it on him.”
Hep shrugged. “Some things are not meant to be known, especially when it comes to magic. Mysteries keep life interesting.”
That was, Karigan thought, a fine answer. It was very true, and an excellent way to keep people from asking unanswerable questions.
Darys set the saddle over a stall door and Karigan wiped it down with a rag, wondering about its age. It certainly needed to be thoroughly cleaned and oiled.
“I wonder whose saddle this was,” she said.
“No idea,” Hep replied. “I’ve never seen a messenger horse it would fit. Made for a draft cross or a warhorse maybe.” He examined the cracked leather. “Old enough to be before my time.”
Darys stepped out of the tack room, gagging, his face crinkled in disgust.
“What is it, lad?” Hep asked.
“Dead rat, all dried up like.”
“Well, get it out of there.”
Karigan suppressed a laugh at Darys’ horrified expression.
At that moment, a Green Rider entered the stables leading her horse.
“It’s Fern and Blackbird,” Karigan said. She and Hep went to greet Rider Fern Hale while Darys dealt with the rat.
“We weren’t expecting you back until spring,” Karigan told Fern. “Surely the mountain passes can’t be open.”
“Likely not,” Fern said. “I got lucky and we were able to find a ship to bring us to Corsa.”
It wasn’t Karigan’s business to ask particulars about Fern’s message errand to Coutre Province, but she could ask general questions about her health, the journey, weather, and how things were in Coutre.
“Wet,” Fern said, placing the strap of her message satchel over her shoulder. “It rained the whole time I was there, and it’s a cold winter rain.” She shivered. “Hey, it looks like you’ve been through something since I’ve been gone. What the hells did you do to your arm and nose?”
“Long story.”
“As usual,” Fern said with a laugh. “We need to catch up over some ale. I’ve missed the Cock and Hen.”
Karigan smiled. She hadn’t been back since the night she had faced Shawdell.
“I’ll get Blackbird settled,” Hep told Fern, and he led the mare down the aisle. Fern watched after him for a moment before pulling Karigan aside and saying in a hushed tone, “It’s not just raining in Coutre.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember that thing Alton supposedly said last fall when everyone thought he was dying?”
Karigan nodded. Dragons will come.
Fern glanced down the aisle to make sure no one was eavesdropping.
“There was talk all over Midhaven Harbor about sea monsters and dragons.” Midhaven was the seat of Lady-Governor Coutre.
“In fact,” she continued, “I think that’s part of the message Lady Coutre sent back with me, to tell the king about dragons. ”
“He’s already heard something about that from Lord Arey’s people,” Karigan replied. “You don’t think it’s just superstition or something else that people are seeing?”
“No,” Fern said, her eyes alight. “I saw one.”
A prickling tingled down Karigan’s spine.
“We were a few hours at sea,” Fern continued, “when I saw one flying quite a distance off. The ship’s captain let me have a look through his spyglass. I still couldn’t see the details, but the shape and wings, the spouting of fire? I have never seen the like—it was amazing.”
Fern sounded more excited than frightened by the sighting.
“Probably you should keep that to yourself unless the king says otherwise,” Karigan said.
“I know, I know. I just couldn’t wait to tell someone. The only others I talked to about it was the crew because they’d seen it, too. But there are already rumors in Corsa Harbor from other ships so it’s no secret, and I’ll let the king know about that, as well. Glad to be home, in any case.”
Fern departed, and Karigan watched Darys, his face pinched in disgust and a shovel held as far as possible in front of him, step from the tack room and head down the aisle, presumably to dispose of the desiccated rat.
“It was stuck to the floor,” he complained to his uncle.
“Be strong, lad,” Hep replied.
The sightings and rumors of dragons Zachary had heard about had not been first person accounts, but now they had an actual eyewitness, a reliable one. A Green Rider.
Dragons will come, indeed, she thought. Dragons and Mornhavon the Black. She shook her head. Perilous times lay ahead and it was going to be a wild ride.