WALLS OF WATER

When Duncan returned that night, he declared himself exhausted, created an illusory four-poster bed that looked more appropriate for the chamber of a great emperor than a half-organic Eletian cottage, and flopped onto a very fluffy feather mattress.

“That bad?” Karigan asked.

“Worse than a pack of tired old men gumming over politics,” he replied. “They have eternal lives so they can debate issues for years. Centuries if need be. All things considered, however, their questioning of me was, well, rather brief.”

Centuries? She did not like to think they could hold her indefinitely while they considered her fate. Not that Eletia was an unpleasant place in which to dwell for a time, but she belonged with her own people preparing to fight Second Empire.

She pulled her feet onto the sofa and leaned back into the pillows. “What did they ask you?”

“They asked where I’d been since the Long War, which led to questions about the eagles. They did not seem amused that the eagles had kept my presence a secret all this time, but I am grateful they’ve kept their promise to me even though the Scourge was so long ago. In any case, there were many tiresome questions about my time at the eyrie, which, as I’ve told you, was not very interesting and so I started to recite some of the eagle ballads I know, and they relented and asked how I happened to be with you and how the thing with the wraiths came to pass. I told them everything, about your colonel being abducted, the Blanding, everything. And it’s good you told me the tale of the Blackveil expedition because I could remind them about that. They, of course, are quite aware of your deed in rescuing the Argenthynian Sleepers, but it didn’t hurt to bring it to the front of their minds. And there is something else . . .”

“Yes?” Karigan prompted when he seemed to fall off into thought.

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Sorry. There is something else afoot here, something of great distraction and excitement occurring which may account for the questioning’s apparent brevity.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“I haven’t the faintest. But, I can almost feel it, like an undercurrent of energy. An etheric vibration.” He waved his hand in the air. “I mean, not just the natural etheric vibration that is Eletia, but something more. Something closer to its heart.” He gazed at her. “It may be to your advantage they are not entirely focused on you.”

Or, maybe not, she thought; if they just wanted to get her out of the way, all they had to do was declare her guilty and execute her. It would be the expedient thing for them to do.

The next morning came and there was no sign of Ealdaen. Gweflin came for her healing session, but as usual bore no news of what was happening with the council. Afterward, Karigan contemplated returning to the stream to see if she could mind-travel to the starry meadow again. She did not necessarily need the stream to do it, but it had served as such a good focus. Something of having been within Seastaria, the freedom and joy of galloping alongside her mate, called to her. However, it was not to be, for Ealdaen arrived.

“Galadheon,” he said, “the council would like to see you. Please accompany me to the Alluvium.”

“Good luck,” Duncan called after her.

Now that it came down to it, she was nervous. As they left the cottage and walked down the trail, Karigan asked, “What should I expect?”

“You will be questioned to hear your side of events, why you did what you did.” His tone was neutral, offered no clue as to how the council would rule.

“Are they going to execute me?”

He halted and looked down upon her. “I do not know, Galadheon. I do not know.”

A sensation of grim foreboding settled upon her like an icy hand.

After they crossed the stream, Eletian warriors stepped out of hiding onto the trail to escort them. The sun pleasantly dappled the forest floor; birds fluttered among tree branches. Star flowers speckled the borders of the path. It was a paradise, and yet, though judgment had not yet been passed, it felt a mockery, for she couldn’t help but think she walked the path of the condemned.

They followed the trail alongside the torrent that flowed down from where she’d crossed over from the white world. When they came upon a waterfall, Ealdaen turned toward it, and onto a trail she would not have seen without her guide. He led her beneath an overhang of mossy rock and behind the fall.

They emerged into an elliptical chamber in which the falling water served as a fluid, glassy wall. The rest of it was formed from natural bedrock that must have been carved out and polished long ago by the force of the cataract over the passage of many millennia.

In the center of the chamber facing the wall of water stood a throne chair that looked like it had been grown rather than crafted, a cedar, the tree of life. A twisted limb grew off the backrest toward the water wall, its flat, scaly foliage seeking sunlight. It perched upon a dais in the center of the chamber, and the throne’s roots snaked and snarled around it into the natural stone floor. Beside the dais, at floor level, sat a more ordinary chair.

Statues stood at either end of the chamber, statues like she’d seen in Castle Argenthyne of winged Eletians. One was half-turned toward the fall with a glowing moonstone held aloft. A sword lay across the upraised palms of the other. It was the only real resemblance she saw between Argenthyne and Eletia.

“This is the council chamber,” Ealdaen told her, and he directed her to stand before the throne, which meant her back was close to the fall. It made her uneasy. Perhaps those found guilty of executable offenses were simply pushed backward over the edge. She shivered.

“Where are the councilors and the prince?” she asked.

“They will arrive shortly,” he replied.

The guards took their places along the walls of the chamber, and finally nine Eletians—five males and four females—filed in and took their places on seating located to the side, from where they could view both Karigan and the throne. Prince Jametari entered after them and sat in the chair next to the throne. He was not yet king, and so, she guessed, he would not presume to sit on the king’s throne chair.

“Au belanne oeth, Galadheon,” Ealdaen said, and he left her side to stand near the entrance. She had a feeling he’d just wished her good luck.

One of the nine stepped forward and spoke in Eletian. He paused as if he expected a response from her. She looked imploringly at Ealdaen, but it was the prince who spoke. “Use the common tongue, Councilor. The accused is Sacoridian, as you well know.”

“Speak your name, Sacoridian,” the Eletian said in the common tongue, a look of distaste on his otherwise beautiful face.

Karigan stood straighter. “I am Chief Rider Sir Karigan G’ladheon of His Majesty’s Messenger Service, daughter of Stevic and Kariny, and sub-chief of Clan G’ladheon.”

“Do you know why you are summoned here?”

“So you can decide whether to murder me for trespass.”

The assembled murmured among themselves. Prince Jametari raised his hand for silence. “You are accurate in your response,” he said, “but I am afraid your bald truth, the brash choice of words, disturbs my council. Yes, you are accused of trespass, not only once, but thrice: the first time when you came across the bridge and we conversed, the second time when you caused a man to cross the bridge who was subsequently slain by our archers, and the third time when you brought yourself and creatures from the anethna.”

“You count only the three times?” she asked. “What of the very first?”

The councilors stirred, and again Jametari raised his hand for silence. “I advise you to conduct yourself with decorum as the visitor to another land’s court that you are, Galadheon, and restrain the impulse for outbursts of so disparaging a tone for those who judge you. Surely such behavior is not what King Zachary would expect of one of his trusted messengers.”

He was right, she thought. She needed to bridle her anger and anxiety. She put her hand to her heart and bowed. “My apology to you, Your Highness, and to your councilors. You are correct. My conduct is not becoming of a king’s messenger. It is just that I am anxious about what this may lead to, namely my death. I am also concerned for my people who will be facing Second Empire in battle. I wish to be there with them.”

Jametari nodded. “Your hearing will be a fair one, and judgment will not be made lightly. As to the first instance to which you refer, in which you rescued Sleepers of Argenthyne from the corruption of Kanmorhane Vane, it is not part of today’s proceedings, for it was of great service to the Eletian people, and at the behest of Laurelyn of Argenthyne. It is also why I granted you clemency when you crossed the bridge from the anethna the first time. Please explain to the council the circumstances of the two trespasses that followed, especially after I explicitly warned you against crossing into this realm.”

Karigan took a deep breath and, in her best “messenger voice,” told the councilors of Eletia everything, beginning with her captivity at the hands of the Darrow Raiders and their enmity for Green Riders, and how they sought vengeance on her colonel. She described the crossing of the white world, her struggles with the whisper wraiths, and the reasons she entered Eletia on three occasions.

“I know how good the Eletian archers are,” she said. “They saved my life twice, and for that I am grateful. I had no ill intent when I entered Eletia. I simply sought help.”

Debate followed among the Eletians, but it was in their own tongue. She could see that the councilors were divided, some arguing, a couple looking conciliatory, others making reasoned statements, but otherwise she could not understand what they were saying. To think her life depended on these nine, and Prince Jametari, as well.

The prince regarded her coolly, not joining in with the debate, not even seeming to listen to it. When she stared back at him, he did not avert his gaze. She felt captured by it, and the discussion of the councilors fell away until there was only the sound of roaring water and the prince’s voice.

“Galadheon,” he said. “I must see what you have seen.”

Without either of them moving, they seemed somehow to meet in the middle. It was as though they existed aside from the world in which the councilors debated, as if they were surrounded by walls of flowing water.

He placed his hands on either side of her face and touched his forehead to hers, then pulled back. He removed her eyepatch and made a sharp intake of breath when he saw her mirror eye. Pain jabbed through it into her head. She hadn’t wanted her eye revealed. She wanted to protest, to grab her eyepatch from him, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

“Forgive me for what I am about to do, Galadheon,” he told her.

He gazed directly into her mirror eye. There was no transition of floating through the heavens and seeing the weavings of worlds and lives, but an abrupt leap to visions. Visions from her life, of fighting and defeating Jametari’s son, Shawdell, who’d tried to bring down the D’Yer Wall and destroy Sacoridia by causing the overthrow of Zachary. Jametari lingered on Shawdell as if trying to memorize his features, and she felt a great well of sadness of a father for a son.

The visions followed her through many of her experiences as a Green Rider, speeding through the mundane, pausing at points of interest such as her travel back to the time of the Long War and her interaction with the First Rider upon Kendroa Mor. He paid particular attention to her journey to Blackveil and the expedition’s leader, Graelalea, who, Karigan recalled, was his sister. He watched how Graelalea, mortally wounded, removed the feather of the winter owl she had worn in her hair and gave it to Karigan. Enmorial, Graelalea said with her dying breath. Memory. He also paid special interest to Karigan’s meeting with Laurelyn, and her rescue of the Argenthyne Sleepers, of her bringing them to Eletia and meeting King Santanara.

There was the breaking of the looking mask and her journey into the future time. She saw glimpses of people and places she did not remember, but others she did—Cade. Jametari moved through these visions, including the intimate moments that should have remained between only her and Cade. She fought to control the visions, but could not overcome Jametari’s power. It was like once again being at the mercy of the whisper wraiths, her life essence being drawn out of her.

Still he mined her memories, including her time as a captive of Second Empire, of torture by Nyssa. Over and over, she felt the whip laid upon her bare back, the helplessness of being tied to a beam, unable to protect herself as the lash fell again and again. She tried to cry out, but the spell Jametari held her under prevented it. He reviewed, in detail, the rescue of Zachary, their kiss following the Battle of the Lone Forest, her awkward parting with Enver. Relentlessly he watched her life unfold to this very moment.

And then he looked further, but she couldn’t tell what he saw for it was all murky to her. Might he be looking into her future?

She is submerged in a stream. Cold currents curl around her. She need not breathe, just rest, and Enver will keep watch.

When Jametari disengaged, she gasped as if breaking the surface of water after being long deprived of air.

“You are both light and dark,” he said, “as are all humans and Eletians alike, but with you it is deeper. Only time will tell how it plays out.” He gently placed the patch back over her eye and bowed. “It is a very dangerous thing you’ve got in your eye. Should my councilors judge you favorably, I am of a mind to remove it, but it would mean taking the whole of your eye, and even I am not prepared to commit so barbaric an act. Continue to guard it as well as you can. I hope you can forgive me for my intrusion into your memories, but it has been most instructive.”

She blinked rapidly. He sat upon his chair as though nothing had changed, as if he had not moved, nor had she. The councilors debated on, oblivious to anything happening between her and the prince. Had he really plundered her memories? The knowing gleam in his eye affirmed he had, and she shuddered in revulsion at the violation, that he’d made her relive the torture and the loss of Cade, that he’d seen her most private moments.

“We have come to a decision,” one of the councilors declared.

Karigan’s heart thudded. The chamber was silent but for the thunder of the waterfall as she awaited their judgment.