Green Rider

A fallen horse and rider lay in the middle of the street. Blood foamed from the heaving horse’s mouth. A youth of dark complexion lay dazed beside it, one leg pinned beneath the horse. Some of the onlookers attempted to free him. The boy seemed oblivious to what was happening around him.

“They killed them,” the boy cried. “They killed the master . . . Master Ione . . . everyone. They killed everyone but me! Monsters . . . like men, but not . . .” The boy’s sobs rang out over the stunned crowd.

“I believe that’s Urath of the Under Kingdoms,” a woman said behind Stevic’s right shoulder. “Son of aus-Corien, pack leader of T-katnya. He was on a field trip with his class.”

“Someone ought to inform the dean,” a man said.

Stevic turned away. The boy’s whimpering carried over the chatter of the crowd. The boy’s face was clear of tattoos, making him an adolescent who hadn’t yet made the great hunt, the traditional rite to become a man of the pack. “He’s Karigan’s age,” he said to Sevano.

“Aye. Well do I know it.”

Captain Mapstone watched the commotion from the steps of the inn. Her expression was thoughtful. Stevic walked over to her purposefully, and she shook out of some uncomfortable reverie as he approached.

“Groundmites,” she said. “Those monsters he saw were groundmites.”

Stevic felt his stomach lurch. Where was his daughter? “Captain, I would ask a favor.”

She raised a copper brow. “A merchant always seeks favors at no cost to himself, which he rarely repays.”

Stevic’s cheeks burned in anger. “Perhaps it’s true with some merchants, just as it’s true with some minstrels, soldiers, craftmasters, farmers, and ferrymen, but I am not of that nature.”

Captain Mapstone’s expression remained unaltered and she did not apologize. “What favor do you ask?”

“It would . . . it would mean much to me if your Riders could watch for a young girl, the same age as this youth here who now lies in the street. She has disappeared and—and she’s my daughter. I believe she is traveling toward Corsa, but who can say if something ill has befallen her?”

The captain blinked, but it was her only change of expression. “Green Riders aren’t in the habit of searching for runaways, Chief, and at the moment we’re involved in—”

“I implore you, Captain.” Stevic’s voice cracked as he spoke. “My daughter has been missing for weeks. She is all I have left since . . . since my wife died. . . .”

“Surely taking the girl’s description and passing it on to your Riders won’t distract them from their duty.” Stevic had forgotten Sevano behind him, and was suddenly grateful for his presence. “It is but a small thing to ask. She is young and alone. What if she meets up with groundmites like that lad yonder?”

“I will more than repay you if your people can find Karigan.” Stevic looked hopefully at her. They were now eye level, the steps she stood on helping her to meet his gaze. He saw her expression soften just the least bit. “I will make donations to your unit. I’ll—I’ll re-outfit your Riders.”

Now there was a perceptible hint of a smile on her face.

She turned toward the interior of the inn. “Connly! I need you to take a description. Come listen, and listen well.” As the young man trotted to the doorway, she turned back to Stevic and said, “I intend to keep you to your end of the bargain.”

SWORDMASTERS

Karigan and her captors walked in the same formation as they had the previous day. Garroty sat upon his horse, talking down at Torne who strode beside him. Jendara, leading The Horse, walked next to Karigan. Karigan had spent an unpleasant night listening to Torne and Garroty swap tales and make suggestive, if not entirely vulgar, comments about her. She hadn’t slept all night, and now her eyelids sagged as she stumbled down the road.

Her wrists itched. Either they were healing from the burns, or they were getting worse. The rope that bound her wrists made it impossible to check beneath the old, dirty dressings that covered the wounds.

Jendara had kept silent all day. Torne and Garroty directed some comments her way, too. She merely scowled at their backs, as if to burn holes through them with her eyes.

“I’d castrate those two.”

Karigan tripped over a rock. Jendara’s speaking aloud was unexpected enough. Her words, even more so. “Why don’t you?”

Jendara chuckled. “Two of them against me, and one a swordmaster at that? The odds are a bit precarious, don’t you think?”

“I’d help.”

“Very helpful you would be. I doubt you can even lift that sword fastened to your saddle. All they need Greenies to do is ride.”

Karigan, of course, had little idea of what Green Riders were capable of, but was certain she could surprise even Jendara with a few of the skills she had learned, whether Jendara was a swordmaster or not.

“This road goes on forever,” Karigan said.

“It was built long ago to breach the northern wilderness.” Jendara’s reply was again unexpected. “Where do you think all the pulp that makes paper comes from? There isn’t nearly the expanse of woods to the south.”

Ribbons of sun dropped through the trees, leaving puddles of light on the road and in the woods. Karigan caught movement in the woods out of the corner of her eye. She looked closely, but at first she couldn’t focus on the shape. She blinked, and the shape slowly defined itself into a man, another traveler walking abreast of them in the woods, fading in and out of the shadows, weaving between the trees, striding swiftly and unhindered through the underbrush, as if he were on a smooth road.