She waited to ensure everyone else was clear before she exited herself. The rumble had grown into a continuous thundering clamor. As soon as she stepped across the threshold after Dakrias, it all stilled, went silent.
“They’ve never done that before,” Dakrias said, bemused, as he gazed back into the chamber.
Nor had the ghosts ever interfered with a memorial circle before. In times past, she’d sensed them as watchful presences, but nothing more.
Everyone milled in the corridor, voices raised in consternation.
“Silence!” Laren bellowed, Karigan’s forgotten letter fluttering in her hand as she gestured for attention. She cleared her throat, folded the letter carefully, and inserted it into her pocket for safekeeping. “The memorial circle is postponed for tonight due to . . .” Due to what? Mischievous ghosts? “Well, you saw. In any case, we will conclude the memorial honoring Karigan another evening.”
Her pronouncement was followed by the crash of what sounded like a heavy wooden crate hitting and splitting on the records room floor. Dakrias groaned.
“In the meantime,” Laren said between gritted teeth, “you are dismissed to quarters.”
As Weapons and Riders filed down the corridor, Arms Master Drent paused before her. “Interesting ceremony, Captain. Can’t say as I’ve seen the like. Fitting, somehow.” And then he moved on, his hulking figure shouldering its way through the others.
Laren sighed. Yes, it was fitting. As Mara had said, such madness would happen only at Karigan’s memorial.
Queen Estora also stopped to speak with her. “You must inform me when you decide to conclude the ceremony.” She glanced into the records room with bright eyes. “I think Karigan would have been overwhelmed by it all and not just by the unusual circumstances.”
Laren could not disagree with this, either. Karigan was often surprised when she became the center of attention, and shied from it. The queen bade her goodnight, and Laren bowed. As the corridor emptied, she caught Fastion’s arm as he strode by. “Would you mind waiting behind?”
“Not at all, Captain.” He sidled to the wall to allow others to pass.
When everyone else had left, Laren found Dakrias in the doorway of the records room peering inward. “Do you think it’s safe?” he asked.
“You would know better than anyone,” she replied.
Dakrias appeared to steel himself, settling his administrator’s gowns about him and straightening the specs on his nose. With a curt nod he stepped into the records room. When nothing ill happened, he took a few more cautious steps. Laren and Fastion followed him, surveying the damage.
“I will assign some Riders to help clean up this mess in the morning,” Laren told Dakrias.
“I thank you,” he replied, “and my clerks will, too. I’ve not the faintest idea of what got into the, um, spirits tonight, but it was rude conduct on their part during so solemn an occasion.” He projected his voice upward as if to ensure the ghosts heard his remonstration.
Who could know what had stirred up the ghosts? She might have to finish Karigan’s memorial elsewhere for safety’s sake.
“Fastion,” she said, “I’d like to see the glass dome to make sure it hasn’t been damaged.” Since it was not the actual chamber that had trembled, she was optimistic no damage to the glass had occurred, but she had to make sure.
“Of course. I will light it up for you and check for damage up top, while you inspect it from below.” Without another word, he strode from the records room.
Laren waited, hearing muttering from Dakrias who attempted to straighten the mess on his desk. She turned at the sound of footsteps entering the room. It was not a ghost, or one of her Riders, but none other than Zachary, accompanied by a pair of Weapons and three Eletians. After her initial surprise, she bowed to her king.
Zachary looked about, baffled by the mess. “Tell me, Captain, exactly what kind of ceremony is it you conduct here?”
Laren refrained from making a sarcastic reply. “We have decided to conclude our memorial for Rider G’ladheon on another night when there is, er, less turbulence.”
The mention of Karigan’s name in the same breath as the word “memorial” brought a flash of pain to his eyes, but he revealed no more of his true feelings. As for the Eletians, she had met none of them before, two males and one female, but they held the beauty all Eletians possessed that made it so difficult not to stare at them. One of the men, the younger male, was somehow muted in his looks compared to any other Eletians she had ever met. He was still striking, but his inner light was less intense. There was a more earthly quality about him. But why had they come? And why had Zachary brought them to the records room, of all places?
“Allow me to introduce our guests,” Zachary said. “This is the leader of the tiendan. His name is Somial.”
The foremost Eletian nodded, silvery hair flowing about his shoulders.
“Somial,” Laren said. “I have heard that name. Karigan met an Eletian named Somial.” It had been before Karigan was officially a Rider, at a time when Eletians were little more than legend.
“Yes,” Somial said in a pleasing voice. “We helped her along the road after her most heroic battle with a creature of Kanmorhan Vane. It brings us great sorrow that she . . .” He paused as if searching for the correct words. “It is difficult for us to know what to say as we deal so little with mortality. Perhaps I should just say we have sorrow that she is not here with us.”