SEEKING COMPLETION
Zachary slept soundly through the night and deeply into the day. He awoke to a fair afternoon. At first he saw no one about, and the only movement was laundry hanging from branches to dry, namely the light blue shirt Karigan had been wearing. The blood stain on the back had not come completely clean, and the right sleeve was punctured and torn. Strips of stained cloth also fluttered from the branches.
Bandages.
Estral arrived into the campsite with her arms filled with wood. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty. I hope you are feeling a little rested?”
“I am. Stiff, but a bit better.”
She set her wood aside and moved a kettle over the fire. “I’ll get some tea and porridge heated up for you then.”
“Where is everyone?” he asked.
“Well, my father is bathing. There’s a hot spring a short distance from here. Nari is—I don’t know where Nari is. Enver is in his tent checking on Karigan. The gryphons? I don’t know where they are, either.”
“How is she? Karigan?”
Estral found a mug and spooned tea leaves into it. “As well as can be expected. I am thankful that Nyssa is dead. What she did . . .” She shook herself and poured hot water into the mug and handed it to him.
“Thank you.” He cupped his abraded hands around the mug to absorb the heat. As he sipped the tea, it tasted like the best thing he’d ever had. The porridge proved heartening as well, topped with nuts, and wrinkled winter berries the birds hadn’t gotten. Nari, he was told, had scavenged them. By the time he finished, he was feeling much better than he had in a long while.
Estral then presented him with a message tube.
“What is this?” he asked.
“Mister Whiskers arrived with it this morning.”
He opened the tube and drew out a rolled piece of paper, its seal cracked. Someone had already seen its contents. It was from Captain Treman saying that he was preparing the River Unit to march on the Lone Forest in order to rescue Sacoridia’s sovereign.
“He must be apprised of developments,” he murmured.
“Would you like to write a return message?” Estral asked.
“Yes, I would. But I also need to send a message to the queen. Do you think the gryphons would convey both?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out when they come back.”
Estral brought him Karigan’s message satchel. It had a hole in it as if it had been punctured by an arrow. He frowned, then looked inside and found the letter he had written himself to be presented to the p’ehdrose, documents from Captain Treman, paper, a pen, ink, sealing wax, and the seal of the Green Riders. Using a pen and writing out a message made him feel more civilized than he had in months. He wrote Captain Treman first and told him to stay the River Unit’s approach, to hang back beneath the fringes of the Green Cloak and send forth only a few riders so that they could consult. He was free of Second Empire, he told Captain Treman, but there were other Sacoridians who were not.
He then wrote a brief letter to Estora outlining the situation. When it came to signing the message, he hesitated. He could always sign it in some official way, but that would be rather cold. Still, he could not bring himself to assign a sentiment he did not, in his heart, feel. It was dishonest. What did he feel? Admiration, concern, fondness, respect, and something akin to love . . . Would expressing love actually be dishonest?
He mulled it over and decided that she, being the intelligent woman she was, would detect any falsehood. He finally settled on, With deepest admiration and affection. It was not perfect, but it was honest.
He did not have a royal seal, so he used the Green Rider seal for both.
When Fiori appeared looking refreshed and scoured clean, Zachary explained about the messages.
“I’d be happy to take them,” Fiori said. “I can leave tomorrow morning.”
“I thought the gryphons might take them.”
“Not sure they’re coming back.” Fiori squinted at the empty sky. “Saw them fly off early this morning. The way they circled and made a beeline south, it looked like they were leaving for good.”
Zachary sighed. It was unfortunate to lose their winged messengers, but he had wondered about their reliability. “Then you shall be our courier, unless the gryphons return before morning.”
Fiori bowed. “It is my honor. I’ll give Treman both messages, and one of his folk can convey the queen’s to Sacor City.”
The message situation settled, Zachary decided to take a turn at the hot spring himself.
“Take this with you,” Fiori said, handing him a pouch. “Some sort of Eletian lathering grains.”
Zachary accepted the pouch and took along the woodsman’s knife he had lifted off the guard who had also supplied his buckskin attire. He followed the path through a patch of woods to where steam rose from the mossy, rock-rimmed pool. Enver had promised him the pool was warded and concealed from the enemy.
Sinking into the hot spring proved not only restorative to his abused body, but now he could cleanse away his captivity. Nyssa might have had him doused with freezing bucketfuls of water, but that had been as her prisoner, and unpleasant. Now he could soak away both the physical and psychic soiling of his captivity.
The cut across his chest stung at first, but soon his muscles began to unknot and relax, the toil and cares, the hardships, all fading away. Before long, however, he made use of the “lathering grains” Fiori had given him, and applied the knife.