Blackveil: Book Four of Green Rider Read online

  She yawned, patted his neck, and sat on a nearby pile of hay bales. She found a discarded horse blanket and pulled it over herself, and before she knew it, with the soothing sounds of slumbering horses all around her, she, too, fell asleep.

  “Karigan?”

  She’d been dreaming. Something about sunny, gold-green grasslands, where wild horses roamed ...

  “Karigan?”

  Her eyes fluttered open and she lifted her head with a grimace. She had a crick in her neck from sleeping at an odd angle, and lantern light glared into her eyes. Her own, hanging by Condor’s stall, had sputtered out.

  “Father?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

  “That’s what I meant to ask you.”

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she replied.

  “Me either, so I decided to check on things. When I stepped out, I saw your tracks in the snow and followed them here.” He hung his lantern on a bracket and sat next to her on a hay bale. The light reached Condor’s eyes as he gazed at them.

  “I’m sorry—” both father and daughter began at the same time.

  When Karigan opened her mouth to speak again, her father forestalled her with a gesture. “I admit I should have told you about the Gold Hunter long ago,” he said. “I never wanted this ill feeling to arise between us, but it has, and all because of my silence. If I tell you more about it now, will you hear me out?”

  Karigan nodded, vowing to keep quiet and not interrupt him this time with accusations.

  “Good, good. Perhaps you will come to understand, then, why I chose to remain with the Gold Hunter even after she became a pirate. I will warn you now, however, that there will always be some details I will never speak of. Even your mother did not know everything. Just as I expect you’ve secrets you will never tell me.”

  Karigan scowled, but he was right, and so she held her tongue.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded emphatically, more ready than he could ever imagine.

  He inclined his head in formal acknowledgment. “Very well, then,” and he inhaled deeply to begin.

  “The captain of the Gold Hunter,” he said in a voice that took on the tone and cadence of a storyteller, “was not an evil man, but deeply motivated by profit. And so, yes, when the embargo was lifted from the Under Kingdoms, he continued to seize ships. He was as good a naval tactician as he was a businessman, and the Gold Hunter, well, she was a beauty in her day, with swift, trim lines. In barely a puff of wind she’d skim the water, overtaking any other vessel in sight, especially those heavily laden with cargo.”

  His hands moved to illustrate the ship’s size and dimensions as he spoke. Karigan did not doubt he envisioned the Gold Hunter before him, felt the wind in his hair and the sea spray against his face; saw dolphins leaping the waves that curled from the prow.

  “We took merchant vessels plump with cargos of every description,” he continued. “Casks of Rhovan wine, bundles of tobacco leaves, metal ore, spices, ceramics ... anything you can imagine. Even a ship full of goats.”

  Karigan almost questioned him about how many sailors had to die when the pirates “took” a vessel and its goods, but she managed to remain still and just listen. She glanced at Condor, and his unblinking gaze steadied her.

  “The Gold Hunter was fitted with an iron ram,” her father said, “and crewed by hands who were well-armed and skilled fighters. Few vessels outran us, and because of the reputation we attained for fighting fierce battles, Captain Ifior convinced most merchantmen to yield before combat even began. He was fair with defeated crews, especially those who surrendered, and they were free to go as they willed once we made landfall. Some chose to remain with the Gold Hunter.

  “I myself was a mere cabin boy, and I will not claim life on board was easy or pleasant. It was hard work and the captain stern. He had no patience for slackers and he was quick to flog any sailor he deemed wasn’t moving fast enough.” He rubbed his shoulder, grimacing with some memory. “Likewise, since I was the smallest on crew, others saw fit to kick me around for no particular offense except I was there.”

  Karigan found it difficult to imagine her father as a boy, for he’d always seemed so tall and indomitable to her, not one to be pushed around. Those boyhood experiences must have forged him into the man she knew. They certainly did not break him, nor did they turn him into some monster that gave back the same as he got. It was amazing, really, and she, who had a gentle, loving upbringing, could only admire him for it.

  “But as difficult as life could be on the Gold Hunter,” he said, “it was no worse than I experienced fishing with my father. Easier in many ways. More lucrative, too, and so I stayed.” He paused, loosing a breath that was barely perceptible to her, like a light slackening of the wind in the sails, a release. She glanced at him and saw he was far away, far off on the sea, perhaps, watching gannets plunge from the sky into the waves after fish, and the sun lowering beyond the horizon of the world, not sitting anchored in a stable in the middle of a snowstorm. She wondered at the memories she forced him to dredge up, wondered what parts he recalled but chose not to tell her.

  “The most important reason I stayed,” he said, “was because of what I learned—not just the writing, reading, and figuring, but what I observed when I accompanied the captain to market. Remember those goats I mentioned? Not worth a great amount here in Sacoridia, or other ports on the continent, but on Mallollan Island? A different story.”

  Mallollan, Karigan knew, was part of the Cloud Island archipelago, where her father maintained ties to this day.

  “There were no native livestock animals there,” he continued. “They did have some scrawny cows and hogs acquired in direct trade, but most had to be brought over on the long and dangerous passage from Pikelea, where the customshouse was based and all the international and legal commerce occurred. Which meant the purchasing of goods was more expensive and heavily taxed, and the returns more modest.

  “Captain Ifior, however, stayed away from the main island, thus avoiding paying duty and evading any officials seeking his arrest for piracy. Instead, he sailed directly to Mallollan, where he was welcomed by people with little access to trade goods, but who were eager to obtain them.

  “I watched him barter with the chiefs of various villages on the island. The captain had been right—they wanted those goats. Not only for milk and meat, but because owning them would elevate their status across the whole archipelago. What the captain received in return were goods plentiful to the islanders, but in demand elsewhere: sugarcane, pearls, nutmeg, cinnamon ...”

  Those items were still in high demand in Sacoridia and elsewhere, and brought princely sums, creating huge fortunes for several merchant clans. Karigan’s father still traded with the islands, and even pioneered the shipping of ice harvested from Sacoridian ponds and lakes to the tropics, yet it was textiles that had brought him his greatest wealth. She shifted beneath the horse blanket, realizing she’d never heard precisely why and how textiles, and not those other things, had become the core of her father’s business. There was much, she supposed, she had taken for granted.

  “You see,” her father said, “it was the captain’s genius for knowing the markets I wished to emulate, and from then on, I worked hard; became the best cabin boy he’d ever known, and soon he entrusted me to keep his ledgers. He even showed me how to save and invest my share of a prize. Best of all, he continued to take me to market where I watched and learned.”

  He then sighed, his gaze cast downward. “The end came when merchantmen, aware of the Gold Hunter’s reputation, started hiring protection when traveling the routes Captain Ifior prowled. Our prey, with its extra protection, turned bold, more aggressive, and our battles more pitched. In what would become our final voyage, the captain was slain in a clash with a Tallitrean ship, and he wasn’t the only one we lost. The fighting was vicious, and the Gold Hunter was badly damaged.” He shook his head. “We limped into port, all scorched and nearly dismasted. If it weren’t for
Sevano, we wouldn’t have made it home at all.”

  “Sevano?”

  Her father smiled. “He was first mate and took command when the captain died.”

  “I knew he’d sailed with you, but not on—not on—”

  “You didn’t picture him a pirate, eh? No more than me, I suppose.”

  She pushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. The cargo master was like a part of the family, and was the first to show her how to defend herself from anyone who might do her harm. He was proficient with weapons, but she hadn’t thought it unusual for a cargo master. He must have learned those skills as a mariner.

  “Where Captain Ifior was a father to me,” he said, “Sevano was an elder brother. When fights broke out over whatever cargo remained in the hold, he managed to claim some of it for me, me being the scrawny boy I was back then. No one wanted the bolts of beautiful cloth we’d taken off a Durnesian merchant, especially when there were other goods of more obvious value, so they were mine, and I took them to market. I guess I had an eye for quality, and with my training, I got a very good price.”

  When Karigan’s father fell silent, she could only gape. This was the origin of Clan G’ladheon’s wealth and prestige? Stolen bolts of cloth? This was her father’s first step toward becoming the premier textile merchant of Sacoridia?

  If he hadn’t taken that step, where would she be now? Probably back on Black Island, a fishwife, and constantly pregnant, living in a modest cot already full of squalling children.

  Would she have heard the Rider call?

  She didn’t know.

  It was odd how a single decision, or a chance meeting, could change the course of not only one life, but that of others. If her father had not run away from Black Island, had not learned all he had from Captain Ifior, her vision of herself as a fishwife would likely be all too true. Instead, because of her father’s choices, she’d grown up privileged, very comfortable, and well-educated. In light of all that, it was difficult for her to stay angry at him for being a cabin boy on the Gold Hunter. She still didn’t approve of piracy, but she couldn’t blame him.

  Condor shook his head, ears and mane flopping. He gave her a sleepy look, then turned inward, toward the depths of his stall.

  “There is shame in being involved with piracy,” her father said in a quiet voice. “It is wrong, and I see it now with maturity, especially now that I wear the cloak of a merchant. Ironically, I deplore those who would attack my caravans, or ships I’ve invested in. They are criminals, as I once was a criminal.

  “A part of me wonders if I would have achieved success without all I learned from my association with the Gold Hunter. I think I probably would have—I am a persistent sort, and determined to succeed. But it would have taken longer, and the success might be less.” He smiled. “I was motivated to achieve because I knew a beautiful girl waited for me back on the island. I would not take her as my wife until I’d proven myself a man—shown that I could support her, and support her well. She deserved no less. I vowed she would not be a poor fisherman’s wife. The Gold Hunter allowed me to bring her to Corsa and marry her all that much sooner. I cannot say what would have happened if I’d chosen some other path, but your mother and I, we had dreams ...

  “In any case,” he said more brusquely, “piracy is not an admirable thing. And ... and I was ashamed of what you would think. Seeing disappointment in your eyes when you confronted me earlier—that was the hardest thing I’ve faced in a long while.”

  “If only you had told me sooner.”

  “I believed you were too young to understand the implications.” He paused. “I know now you are not, but I fear I can’t help but still see you as my little girl in her party dress and ribbons, with scraped elbows.”

  Karigan thought as much.

  “You’re frowning,” he said. “Be careful or your face will freeze that way.”

  She only screwed up her face more.

  “Well, if that is all, perhaps we should retire to our beds. I didn’t work so hard for so many years for my daughter to be sleeping in the stable.” He rose and watched her.

  The wind had quieted. Karigan wondered if it was a lull in the storm, or if it was actually dying out. “There’s one more thing,” she said.

  Her father stood there, just waiting.

  Before she lost her nerve, she said, “When I passed through Rivertown last fall, I met a friend of yours—Silva Early. In fact, I stayed at her ... her establishment, the Golden Rudder.”

  The blood drained from Stevic G’ladheon’s face.

  MOONSTONE

  Several horses, including Condor, peered from their stalls, watching father and daughter like spectators at a tournament. The silence was excruciating.

  Finally her father spoke. “What were you doing at the Golden Rudder?”

  “My Rider-in-training, Fergal, almost drowned in the river during our crossing.” That was definitely the short version of the story. “Cetchum brought me to the Golden Rudder after. I didn’t know what kind of place it was. Not at first.”

  “Cetchum,” her father murmured. The ferry master would, of course, be well known to him. Cetchum’s wife was a maid at the brothel, so he’d seen it only as natural to take Karigan there.

  “I was surprised to learn from Silva,” Karigan continued, her voice trembling, “that my father was a favored patron.” Incensed and betrayed was more like it.

  He placed his hands on his hips and turned away, gazing into the dark. When he faced her again, he replied, “I said there were things I’d never explain, and certainly not to my daughter.”

  “What about Mother?” Karigan demanded. “Did she know?”

  “This has nothing to do with her.”

  It has everything to do with her! Karigan wanted to scream.

  But her father simply walked away. Walked away and out of the stable, and out into the snow.

  What had she expected?

  She expected a lot, actually, especially of her father. Expected him to honor her mother, to be truthful and upright. Not a ... a patron of brothels. Not a pirate. It felt like he’d lived a whole secret life without her. If he kept those secrets, what else might he be hiding?

  Her father had become a stranger to her.

  With a sigh, she tossed off the horse blanket and shivered in the cold. With one last pat on Condor’s neck, she grabbed both lanterns and left the stable. To her surprise, the pitch black of night was lightening to dusky gray, and the wind had died almost to a whisper. Fat flurries descended in lazy swirls from the sky, nothing like the earlier squalls.

  She used the trail her father had broken between the stable and house, thinking they needed to talk things out, not avoid one another. So when she entered the house, she lit a lamp and looked for him in the kitchen and his office; went from room to room, finding only darkness and silence. Upstairs, she heard snoring from behind the doors of her aunts. She halted at her father’s door, which stood ajar. No light shone from within, and she heard nothing.

  Hesitantly she pushed the door open and peered inside, thrusting the lamp before her. The blankets on his bed were rumpled, but he was not in it. Where could he be?

  She stepped inside, letting the lamplight fill the room. Her father’s bedchamber was spare and neat, just as she always remembered. There were a couple paintings of maritime scenes hanging on the wall, and a ship model was displayed on the mantel. It was not the Gold Hunter, but the river cog Venture, the first vessel he’d built as the primary investor.

  A few faint embers glowed on the hearth, and Karigan threw some kindling on them and fanned the fire back to life. Once she had a satisfactory blaze going, she glanced around the room again.

  Had it always been this spare? Was it like this when her mother was alive? She found she could not remember.

  Her gaze fell upon the chest pushed against the far wall, beneath the window. Her mother’s dowry chest. There had been, in fact, no dowry, for Kariny’s father had not approved of Stevic G’ladheon as
a husband, and so the couple ran off sometime after his voyages on the Gold Hunter.

  Her father commissioned the chest so her mother would at least have a sense of coming into the marriage with the goods a bride needed to begin housekeeping. Karigan remembered the chest as filled with fine linens. She had not looked in it since she was a child.

  Now she took tentative steps toward it, setting her lamp on a bedside table. She knelt beside the chest and passed her hand over the mahogany, running her fingers over carvings of seashells and ships. To either side of the latch stood a man and woman with hands joined, seabirds circling overhead, and clouds billowing in the sky, a sunburst rayed behind them.

  The latch was not locked and Karigan lifted the lid, inhaling the strong scent of cedar.

  She found inside not only the expected linens, but other unexpected items, as well. There was a large conch shell as one would find on the beaches in the Cloud Islands. Karigan had some, too, that her father brought back from his voyages, and they were displayed on the mantel in her bedchamber. This one, however, was enormous. She took it out and carefully set it aside.

  Beneath it was an infant’s gown, crisp and white, with a blue and yellow needlework design around the hem. Begun, but not finished.

  “Oh, gods,” Karigan murmured. This had not been one of hers, but one her mother made for her forthcoming child, the babe that had never been born.

  As she continued to explore the contents of her mother’s chest, she found dresses, some let out to accommodate pregnancy. Beneath them, she found an elegant gown of ivory silk. She could almost feel her mother’s presence there with her, and she crushed the dress to her as though hugging her mother. They’d had so little time together.