I moved quickly then. In two strides I had Keppen by the throat, with my other hand on his wrist, keeping that knife at bay. I took him by surprise and in another step I had him backed out over the edge, heels resting on air, and my grip on his neck all that kept him with us.

"So, Keppen," I said. "Will you die for the new Watch Master?" I gave him a smile, but I don't think he noticed. "This is the bit where you say, 'yes.' And you'd better mean it, because there are a lot worse things than dying easy when given an order."

He got a "yes" out past my fingers.

"Coddin." I pointed him out. "You're the new Watch Master."

I pulled Keppen back and walked back toward the keep. They all followed me.

"If I ask you to die for me, I expect you to ask when and where," I said. "But I'm not in any hurry to ask. It'd be a waste. The Forest Watch is the most dangerous two hundred soldiers Ancrath has, whether my father knows it or not."

It wasn't all flattery. In the forest they were the best we had. With a good Watch Master they were the sharpest sword in the armoury, and too clever to jump when told.

"Watch Master Coddin here is taking you into Gelleth." I saw a few lips curl at that. Lord Vincent's long jump or not, I was still a boy, and the Castle Red was still suicide. "You'll get within twenty miles of the Castle Red, and no closer. You're to spend two weeks in the Otton forests, cutting wood for siege engines and killing any patrols that come in after you. Watch Master Coddin will tell you the rest when the time comes."

I turned from them and pushed open the door to the keep. "Coddin, Makin!"

They followed me in. The entrance hall gave onto a homely dining room where the table was set with cold goose, bread, and autumn apples. I took an apple.

"My thanks, Prince Jorg." Coddin gave another of his stiff bows. "Saved from escort duty in Crath City, I can enjoy my winter running around the woods in Gelleth now." The faintest hint of a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm coming with you. In disguise. It's a closely guarded secret that you're to ensure leaks out," I said.

"And where will we be really?" Makin asked.

"The Gorge of Leucrota," I told him. "Talking to monsters."

25.

We returned to the Tall Castle through the Old Town Gate, with the noonday sun hot across our necks. I carried the family sword across my saddle and none sought to bar our way.

We left the horses in the West Yard.

"See he's well shod. We have a road ahead of us." I slapped Gerrod's ribs and let the stable lad lead him away.

"We've company." Makin laid a hand upon my shoulder. "Have a care." He nodded across the yard. Sageous was descending the stair from the main keep, a small figure in white robes.

"I'm sure our little pagan can learn to love Prince Jorgy just like all the rest," I said. "He's a handy man to have in your pocket."

Makin frowned. "Better to put a scorpion in your pocket. I've been asking around. That gla.s.s tree you felled the other day. It wasn't a trinket. He grew it."

"He'll forgive me."

"He grew it from the stone, Jorg. From a green bead. It took two years. He watered it with blood."

Behind us Rike sn.i.g.g.e.red, a childish sound, unsettling from such a giant.

"His blood," Makin finished.

Another of the brothers snorted laughter at that. They'd all heard the story of Sir Galen and the gla.s.s tree.

Sageous stopped a yard in front of me and cast his gaze across the brothers, some still handing over their steeds, others pressed close at my side. His eyes flicked up to take in Rike's height.

"Why did you run, Jorg?" he asked.

"Prince. You'll call him Prince, you pagan dog." Makin stepped forward, half-drawing. Sageous took him in with a mild look and Makin's hand fell limp at his side, the argument gone from him.

"Why did you run?"

"I don't run," I said.

"Four years ago you ran from your father's house." He kept his voice gentle, and the brothers watched him as though charmed by a spinning penny.

"I left for a reason," I said. His line of attack unsettled me.

"What reason?"

"To kill someone."

"Did you kill him?" Sageous asked.

"I killed a lot of people."

"Did you kill him?"

"No." The Count of Renar still lived and breathed.

"Why?"

Why hadn't I?

"Did you harm him? Did you hurt his interests?"

I hadn't. In fact if you looked at it, if you traced the random path of four years on the road, you might say I had furthered Renar's interests. The brothers and I had nipped at Baron Kennick's heels and kept him from his ambitions. In Mabberton we had torn the heart from what might have been rebellion . . .

"I killed his son. I stuck a knife in Marclos, Renar's flesh and heir."

Sageous allowed himself a small smile. "As you came closer to home, you came under my protection, Jorg. The hand that steered you fell away."

Was it true? I couldn't see the lie in him. My eyes followed the scriptures written across his face, the complex scrolls of an alien tongue. An open book, but I couldn't read him.

"I can help you, Jorg. I can give you back your self. I can give you your will."

He held out his hand, palm open.

"Free will has to be taken," I said. When in doubt reach for the wisdom of others. Nietzsche in this case. Some arguments require a knife if you're to cut to the quick, others require the breaking of heads with a philosopher's stone.

I reached out and took his hand in mine, from below, his knuckles to my palm.

"My choices have been my own, pagan," I said. "If someone sought to steer me, I would know it."

"Would you?"

"And if I knew it . . . Oh, if I knew it, I would teach such a lesson in pain that the Red Men of the East themselves would come to learn new tricks." Even as they left me the words rang hollow. Childish.

"It is not I who has led you, Jorg," Sageous said.

"Who then?" I squeezed his hand until I heard the bones creak.

He shrugged. "Ask for your will and I shall give it to you."

"If there were a glamour on me, I would find the one that placed it and I would kill them." I felt an echo of the old pain that plagued me on the road, a pang from temple to temple, behind the eyes like a sliver of gla.s.s. "But there is none, and my will is my own," I said.

He shrugged again, and turned away. Looking down I saw that I held my left hand in my right, and blood ran between my fingers.

26.

From my encounter with Sageous in the West Yard I went straight to ma.s.s. Meeting the pagan had left me wanting a touch of the church of Roma, a breath of incense, and a heavy dose of dogma. If heathens held such powers, it seemed only right that the church should have a little magic of its own to bestow upon the worthy, and hopefully upon the unworthy who bothered to show up. Failing that, I had need of a priest in any case.

We marched into the chapel to find Father Gomst presiding. The choir song faltered before the clatter of boots on polished marble. Nuns shrank into the shadows beneath the brothers' leers, and, no doubt, the rankness of our company. Gains and Sim took off their helms and bowed their heads. Most of them just glanced around for something worth stealing.

"Forgive the intrusion, Father." I set a hand in the font by the entrance and let the holy water lift the blood from my skin. It stung.

"Prince!" He set his book upon the lectern and looked up, white-faced. "These men . . . it is not proper."

"Oh shush." I walked the aisle, eyes on the painted marvel of the ceiling, turning slowly as I went, one hand raised and open, dripping. "Aren't they all sons of G.o.d? Penitent children returned for forgiveness?"

I stopped before the altar and glanced back toward the brothers by the door. "Put that back, Roddat, or you'll be leaving both thumbs in the alms box."

Roddat drew a silver candlestick from the grey rot of his travel cloak.

"That one at the least." Father Gomst pointed at the Nuban, a tremble in his finger. "That one is not of G.o.d's flock."

"Not even a black sheep?" I came to stand by Gomst. He flinched. "Well, maybe you can convert him on our journey."

"My prince?"

"You're to accompany me to Gelleth, Father Gomst. A diplomatic mission. I'm surprised the King didn't tell you." I wasn't so surprised in truth, since it was a lie. "We leave immediately."

"But-"

"Come!" I strode toward the door. A pause, and then he followed. I could hear the reluctance in his footsteps.

The brothers began to file out ahead of me, Rike trailing his hand along the walls, over reliquary and icon.

Having secured the priest I was keen to be off. I directed Makin to oversee a swift provisioning and led Gomst back to the West Yard.

"We should not take this Nuba-man on a mission of diplomacy, Prince. Or any other," Gomst whispered as we walked. "They drink the blood of Christian priests to work their spells, you know."

"They do?" I think it was the first interesting thing I ever heard Gomst say. "I could use a little magic myself."

The priest paled behind his beard. "A superst.i.tion, my prince."

A few more paces and, "Even so, were you to burn him, the Lord's blessing would be upon us and our journey."

Within the hour, saddlebags bulging, we rode back out into the Old Town. Sageous was waiting for us. He stood alone by the side of the cobbled path. I drew up before him, still uneasy in my mind. He had driven a wedge of doubt into me. I had told myself I'd set Count Renar aside as an act of strength, a sacrifice to the iron will I needed to win the game of thrones. But sometimes, now for instance, I didn't quite believe it.

"You should accept my protection, Prince," Sageous said.

"I've survived long enough without it."

"But now you're going to Gelleth, bound on a path to strengthen your father's hand."

"I am." The brothers' horses snorted around me.

"If any had a mind that you might truly succeed, they would stop you," Sageous said. "The one who has played you these past years will seek to tighten the bonds you have loosened. Perhaps the priest will help you. His presence did before. He has value as a talisman, but past that he is empty robes."

A horse pushed against Gerrod, the rider moving beside me.

I set my hand on my sword hilt. "I don't like you, pagan."

"What do you think scared the marsh-dead, Jorg?" No ripple in his calm watchfulness.

"I-" The boast sounded hollow before I spoke it.

"An angry boy?" Sageous shook his head. "The dead saw a darker hand upon your heart."

"I-"

"Accept my protection. There are grander dreams you can dream."

I felt the soft weight of sleep upon me, the saddle unsure beneath me.

"Dream-witch." A dark voice spoke at my shoulder.

"Dream-witch." The Nuban held out his crossbow, black fist curled around the stock, muscle strained against the load. "I carry your token, Dream-witch, your magics will not stain the boy."