Firebrand

“I am so sorry,” Estral said.

Just Estral’s presence comforted her. Maybe, she conceded, keeping Cade’s memory all to herself was not for the best.

The fire died down as the two talked quietly, and when someone tapped on her door, she had no notion of how much time had passed. Her father peered into her chamber. Thanks to Estral, she felt balanced enough to face him and the outside world.

When he entered her chamber, he bore a large bundle wrapped in brown paper and string in his arms and peered over the top to take in the basket and Estral, and Karigan still in her nightgown.

“A picnic?” he asked.

“Actually, yes,” Estral replied.

“I heard about your voice from Captain Mapstone,” he said. “I am very glad the Eletian could give you such a gift.”

“Me, too.”

To Karigan he said, “It is just as well you are not dressed. I have something I wish for you to try on.”

Karigan looked askance at the bundle in his arms. Was it another gown? Was he going to try to marry her off again?

“I want you to try it on,” he said, “and then show us in the common room.”

Us? Karigan wondered. Ghost Kitty sat at the foot of the bed watching him intently as if waiting to see what tricks the male human could do.

Her father placed the bundle next to the cat and said, “Don’t keep us waiting.” Before Karigan could ask any questions, he was out the door and closing it behind him.

“Well,” Estral said, “Let’s see what it is.”

“If it’s a gown, I’m never leaving my room again.” Karigan untied the string, or tried to, with Ghost Kitty attacking it. As the paper fell away, she gazed down at the cloth in Rider green.

“That looks familiar,” Estral said.

It was, and it was not. Karigan unfolded first a greatcoat. It was much the same as her regular greatcoat with its caped shoulders, but with a noticeable difference—the back was split for riding, with a brass button closure for the flaps when one was not on horseback. There were straps for buckling the flaps in place around one’s legs, which would protect them from rain and cold while on horseback. In addition, there were more pockets of varying sizes concealed in the interior. Why, she wondered, had Green Rider coats not been tailored this way to begin with?

“There’s more,” Estral said.

Karigan pulled out a longcoat, and it too was split for riding and had additional inside pockets. The final item she unfolded was a pair of trousers. No, not trousers, but true breeches with leather reinforcement all along the inseam. A vast improvement.

She dressed while Estral picked up the detritus from their picnic and piled it into the basket.

When Karigan was all dressed, with the longcoat on, she asked, “What do you think?”

“Looks like it fits well.”

“It does.” Karigan moved her shoulders and bent her knees. “Very comfortable.” There was an advantage to having a father who dealt in textiles. When he had begun outfitting the Green Riders five years ago, there had been a major improvement in materials, but he’d tweaked the design very little. The biggest change had been the waistcoat, altered from the usual Rider green to the blue-green plaid in honor of the First Rider. She tried to get a good look at herself in her hand mirror.

“You had better show your father,” Estral said, “before he dies of anticipation.”

Karigan smiled and picked up the greatcoat to take with her, Estral following behind. When she reached the common room, she was not expecting the crowd that greeted her.

THE FINGERS OF A HAND

The common room was filled with Riders, two of whom she had not seen in a while. First, Garth barreled over to her and lifted her off her feet in one of his customary bear hugs, and she laughed. The hug and laughing—it felt good. Then she saw Connly and received another hug, if not as gregarious as Garth’s. Connly might be lieutenant, but the Green Riders didn’t stand on formality the way the regular military did.

“Well, let us see the new design,” her father said. “Stand on a chair so all can see.”

Someone pulled out a chair, and she cried out in surprise when Garth lifted her onto it. Her father began pointing out and explaining the new features of the design, and Karigan obligingly revealed pockets and gussets and flaps. She saw that the captain stood next to him, arms folded, her expression unreadable. Of anyone in the room, it was the captain he had to impress, because it was she who had to approve the design. If the oohs and aahs of her Riders had any power to sway her, she would approve it on the spot.

When Karigan’s father finished describing the advantages of the new design, he turned to the captain. “What do you think? Your own Riders suggested the changes.”

The room fell silent as the captain appraised Karigan’s uniform, her expression unmoved and unchanged. Years seemed to pass, and Karigan could see the lines of tension etched in her father’s face.

“Well,” the captain finally said, “it’s about time our uniforms were properly designed for riding since that’s what we do.” The Riders cheered and clapped, but she held up her hand to quiet them. “I would like to see the materials before I make my final decision.”

“You know I use only the best,” Karigan’s father said.

“Patience, merchant.” There was the briefest exchange of smiles between the two that did not escape Karigan’s attention.

Hmm, she thought. She hopped off the chair so the captain, and everyone else, could get a closer look at the uniform pieces.