Horntail packed a wealth of meaning into those few words, enough to make Ryce feel sick. He asked, attempting to sound unconcerned, "Do you know anything about the new men?"

"They don't talk to us. Keep to themselves, they do. I did hear a... whisper that at least one came from a Fox manor."

Ryce's stomach turned over. "Ah. Horntail, whispers interest me. For example, I can't help wondering what prompted the King's desire to hunt tomorrow. A whisper that ended my curiosity on that matter would be welcome."

"I'll bear that in mind, your highness."

When Horntail strode away sometime later, after they'd discussed the specifics of the hunt, Ryce was tempted to call him back, to tell him to take care of his own hide. He resisted the temptation, but when he thought of Horntail suffering an accident his fear burgeoned.

Returning to the barracks where his men were busy with their morning duties, Horntail drew one of them aside. "Orlo, am I right in thinking your sister's son is the King's cupbearer?"

"Aye, captain." He snorted. "Right proud the family is of the lad, too."

"And so they should be. Just as we are proud to serve the Prince. Not everyone has the right set of innards to be a soldier, Orlo! But listen carefully. I have an interest in whator rather, in who influenced the King's decision to go hunting. Find out if the lad heard aught on that matter."

"Aye, sergeant."

"Good. And remember, Orlo, watch your back."

The man nodded soberly. They all knew there had been too many deaths among the King's men, and Horntail's ruling for the Prince's men was strict: no one went anywhere alone. Ever. When one of the Prince's guard went home to visit his wife, two guards loitered at his door.

For the first time in his life, Ryce did not enjoy a hunt. The drumming of the hoofs around him, his mount rising to jump a fallen log, the blare of the horns, the yipping of the fellhounds scenting prey, the musty stink of a fox den: all the sights and sounds and smells and action that had once made his blood rush with the intense joy of livingsuddenly they meant something different. Danger to his father. Fear for his King. Horror at the thought of how his life would change if his father died now, here, this day, in this place.

He didn't know how to make sure King Edwayn lived through the day and his fear lurked behind his every action, in every word he spoke, with every thought he had. So many things could go wrong. Edwayn and the huntmaster would be in the lead, vulnerable. Everyone knew where the King's favourite hunting route was; everyone knew which part of the woods they would enter. The forest was thick. An assassin could throw a spear or loose an arrow and never even be seen. Riders split up and scattered through trees pursuing different prey; a skilful huntsman among them could kill more than a pig and remain undetected in the resulting confusion.

And what about an unfortunate accident? A boar could turn on a rider without warning; a horse could put its foot in a hole or fall at a jump; some idiot could do something stupid that resulted in another coming to grief. Once King Edwayn had been able to look after himself; now he was ageing, slow, sometimes confused.

Ryce tried to stay with him throughout the hunt, but the King's guards prevented his approach. He could never decide if it was done deliberately, but when some of them lagged behind, they slowed him down until several times he lost sight of Edwayn completely. To his unspoken relief, when he did catch up halfway through the morning, it was to find his father in fine fettle, speckled with blood, surrounded by his hounds, and boasting of the first major kill of the day, a half-grown boar.

"See," the King roared at him, shaking a blood-stained spear in triumph, "there's life in this old royal hound, and don't you forget it."

"I never doubted it," he replied, grinning to see his father not only unscathed, but also brimming with vitality. He dismounted and doffed his hat to place it on his breast in salute. "Not old father, but honed. Age has merely seasoned you."

"Then let us celebrate!"

Edwayn tossed his blood-soaked spear to the nearest guard, clapped Ryce on the back and called for his spare mount. "Beck's Field, men! Ale to quench your thirst, food for your empty bellies. Maybe this afternoon will produce a boar with bigger tusks."

Servants, busy since the day before, had transformed the meadow bordering the forest, known as Beck's Field, into a gathering ground fit for a king. Colourful tents flying royal flags and courtiers' standards surrounded a central area of trestle tables laden with food and drink. Ryce, even accustomed as he was to the feasts served to hunt parties, was taken aback by the opulence of the trappings and the sumptuousness of the provender.

The King was in fine spirits; for a while he appeared to be his old self. He joked and jested, ate heartily and ribbed Ryce about being too slow on his horse to keep up with the hunt. "You missed the kill!" he chided. "What kind of a hunter are you?"

Ryce smiled and joked and hoped his father would let the afternoon hunt continue without the King to lead them, but wisely kept that hope unspoken. I'm learning, he thought.

When some of the older courtiers joined the King, Ryce withdrew, unnoticed, to take a look at the morning's kill, already being skinned or plucked and dismembered at the far end of the field. No one had brought in a deer yet, so the boar was still the largest of the bag, but there was a good selection of hares, pheasants, grouse and squirrels. He spoke with the butchers, then returned to the tables to eat and drink.

The feast was almost finished when he looked up from his platter of jellied fruit to see Prime Valerian Fox ride up. His appearance was an odd mixture of austerity and wealth, dressed as he was all in black, yet adorned with ostentatious gold jewellery. He ignored Ryce and dismounted to bow to the King.

Ryce gritted his teeth. The man couldn't have come for the hunting; killing animals for sport was not considered appropriate for a cleric of Va-faith.

He watched the Prime greet the King and chat to him, doubtless congratulating the monarch on his hunting success. His bow was graceful, his smile charming. The confounded man never seemed to age. His face was unlined and his hair without a trace of grey, his body as lithe and supple as a cat's.

"Your highness."

He turned to see Horntail standing at his shoulder. "Yes, sergeant?"

Horntail leaned down to say quietly into his ear, "The question you asked yesterday, about who influenced the King to come a-hunting." He nodded to where the Prime and the King were being served wine by a lad dressed in the palace livery. "Me sister's son."

"And he said-?"

"The Prime."

"Speak to him again when you have a chance."

Horntail nodded. He didn't need to be told that Ryce was interested in what the Prime was saying to the King now.

Still later, when the King announced that he was returning to the palace, but hoped the hunt would continue without him, Horntail again materialised at his side.

"Anything?" Ryce asked.

"They spoke of the hunt. An amiable conversation, according to the lad. The King said he would not hunt in the afternoon, otherwise his royal arse would trouble him for a sennight; the Prime laughed. 'Twas all."

"Glad to hear it. I will return with the King. Tell your men and instruct them to keep clear of the King's guards. We don't want any arguments."

"Quite so, your highness." Horntail's expression was wry; there had been some not-so-amicable encounters between the two troops of guards over the past year, for all that the sergeant had attempted to rein in his men.

Ryce walked over to where King Edwayn was chatting to the Prime, the Master of Hunt, Lord Dashell and several other huntsmen.

"Nursemaiding me?" the King asked, his eyes flashing in his annoyance, when Ryce told him he would ride back with the royal party.

The Prime stepped in, saying smoothly, "Oh, I'm sure he was only showing his concern for his father, as any dutiful son ought."

"I do not need his concern," Edwayn snapped. "I am the King, not some senile old man, and I'll thank you to remember that, Ryce. This is a royal hunt, and your presence is required when I am not in attendance."

Ryce tried to keep his expression blank. "Of course, sire. I did not think." Damn you, Fox.

"It would be my pleasure to accompany you, sire," Fox said, "if you will permit."

"Of course," Edwayn agreed, and waved Ryce away.

He bowed and withdrew to tell Horntail of the change in plans, fear for his father's safety growing. The King's party would contain all the older huntsmen, or anyone bruised or injured by falls, plus a few others whose horses had taken a tumble. The younger, fitter men would remain to continue the hunt.

Am I worrying over nothing?

He didn't know. He didn't even know what made him feel so fearful for his father's safety. He had nothing tangible to hang his worries on, no evidence of plots or assassination attempts. He had no ambitious cousins or uncles with an eye to usurping the throne. In fact he had nothing but a growing hatred of Prime Fox, promptedas far as he could seeby a baseless unease that seized him every time he was in the Prime's presence.

It had started the day father told him about Mathilda's supposed ravishment. It had been compounded by his realisation of how much the Prime had enjoyed bringing Saker down. The supposed perfidy of a cleric ought to have grieved him, but Fox hadn't been grieved. He'd been pleased.

A pox on you, Saker. You ought to be here. Va-damn, he missed the witan.

24.

Alliances Under Scrutiny

When Saker, Juster and Ardhi left Golden Petrel to appear before the Karradar Council, Sorrel expected the worst. She spent the time with the wet nurse, the woman's six month old son and Piper, but her mind was in a turmoil of dread. What if the men never returned? What if the Council had them imprisoned for sinking the longboat from Spice Winds?

She need not have worried. When the men returned several hours later, they were laughing.

"The Lowmians had been called as well," Saker explained. "They complained about us to the Karradar officials, demanding that Ardhi and I be forcibly returned to their shiponly to find themselves in trouble with the Council because they had fired their carronade without permission!"

"Even worse," Lord Juster added, "Lustgrader sent Tolbun to negotiate instead of coming himself, a tactical error the Council interpreted as arrogance." His grin broadened. "The real truth is the islanders find my activities more lucrative to them than Kesleer's. I pay the godowns handsome fees to store my privateered goods. Moreover, Pashalin merchant ships have been coming to pick up those cargos, paying their port fees and buying their provisions. Docklumpers and bumboat owners earn more wages. So, the islanders are more worried about upsetting me than they are about upsetting the Lowmians."

"Without the Lowmians, you wouldn't be here with all those benefits for them," she pointed out.

"No one said the Council was a logical bunch of reprobates," he replied. "Anyway, Mistress Sorrel, it all went well. The Council said that if Ardhi and Reed Heron wanted to jump ship in Karradar, that was fine with them. No one mentioned you at all."

"Moreover," Saker said, "when we asked for our belongings, the Karradar Council said we were entitled to them and instructed the Lowmians to hand them over!"

"Don't hold your breath that you'll get anything of value back," Juster said.

"I want my sword. It's Pashali steel, a gift from a Pashali trader when I was a young witan on duty up on the northern borders."

"And I want the rest of your story," Juster said. "Come on down to my cabin." Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the forward companionway.

"How is Piper liking the wet nurse?" Saker asked before he turned to follow.

"She adores her," she replied. "I feel quite put out. It's only for while we are here in Karradar, though, so I suppose I should make the most of the rest I'm getting!"

Saker smiled at her, then followed Lord Juster.

It was Ardhi, standing beside her, who commented, "No one replaces loving mother."

"But I am not her mother." The truth of those words almost choked her.

"Yes, you are, in every way that matters, no?"

Something clenched in her chest, as tight as a closed fist. Sweet Va, one day she was going to have to give Piper up. She was going to lose her. First Heather, then Piper. How would she ever bear the agony a second time around?

She turned her face away, not wanting him to see her pain.

"She's happy because you love." He struggled to express himself while she looked at him in surprise. "I admire you," he added. "You have courage, kindness, heart, wisdom. I'm sad because you meet me and bad things happened to you." He gave an exasperated grunt. "My words tangle in your language; I'm sorry. My Pashali speaking much better."

"Theyyour words were exactly right." Only it was Saker I wanted to hear say them. Now, how silly was that? She started to smile, her heart lightening, and was grateful Ardhi had cared enough to say what she needed to hear. "It seems I must learn Pashali. We'll be on the same ship to Javenka, as passengers. Perhaps you can teach me?"

His answering smile lit up his face. "Yes! I teach my language too, if you want. Journey long. You can learn much." He paused, then added in his own tongue, "Kami perlu berteman."

"What does that mean?"

He grinned. "One day you can tell me."

"Oh, that's not fair!"

He relented. " 'We both need a friend.' "

She smiled back at him. "I think you'll soon have a friend on this vessel. While you were all ashore, I met a sailor called Iska. He's a lascar too, from the Summer Seas."

He shrugged carelessly. "Oh? You call us both 'lascar' because we come from the same seas. Summer Seas are vast. Many, many islands, many languages. Word 'lascar'? That means nothing to me."

He turned and walked away.

Oh vex it. I hurt his feelings. You are a ninny, Sorrel.

It was dark by the time Saker had finished telling Juster his adventures since they'd last met. The remains of their evening meal littered the desk in the captain's cabin, although in truth, Saker had not eaten much. He'd said very little about Piper, but he'd omitted nothing else of importance.

Lord Juster swirled brandy in a goblet of blown glass and shook his head in disbelief. "If anyone else had told me this tale, I wouldn't have believed a word of it."

"If I hadn't experienced much of it, I wouldn't have believed it either." Saker took a sip from his own goblet, thinking how typical it was of Juster. He may have been on board a ship in a foreign land, but he still surrounded himself with his luxuries.

"So, Piper is the twin sister of the heir to the Basalt Throne."

Saker spluttered over his brandy. "What?"

"Oh, come now, Saker. It's obvious. Did you really think I wouldn't guess? Why else would Sorrel have a baby who's not her own? Let me see if I have it right. Princess Mathilda gave birth to twins. Sorrel, at the Princess's request, spirited the firstborn away because of Lowmeer's superstitions about devil-kin twins."

Saker said nothing.

"Just as well Piper was a girl. You want my opinion? There's no such being as A'Va. But I think there's a good chance that the Prime of Ardrone, the oh-so-despicable Valerian Fox, is in the service of something or someone not remotely connected to Va. I'd call it sorcery."

Saker waved a hand in acknowledgement.

"But that's not all," Juster added. "We have sorcerous plumes and daggers that swim and alien witchery and pox knows what else, and, according to Mistress Sorrel, a possibility that Fox fathered the heir to Lowmeer." He shook his head. "On one level, all this sounds absurd. But on anotherdo you know how worrying all of it is?"

"Indeed, which is why I have told you. Will you consider either taking Ardhi and me to the Summer Seas, or alternatively will you take Sorrel to Vavala? The Va-cherished Hemisphere could well be in jeopardy from two threats from different sources. I don't know which is the greatest danger. I do know that I don't have any choice. Va-forsaken magic is sending me to the Summer Seas, whether I like it or not. I also know that it must surely be important the Pontifect deals with the whole problem of Piper and her brother to ensure that the devil-kin never sits on the throne of Lowmeer. I'm asking for your help."

"I'm already doing what I do best. And if I understand your story correctly, it appears to me that Sorrel or Piperor bothis being drawn, by magic, to the Va-forsaken Hemisphere. At least, that's what Ardhi believes, right?"

"Yes. Rot it, Juster, I don't know what I should be doing. Sometimes I feel Va-forsaken myself! I struggle constantly against this Chenderawasi magic, and I remain caught up in its web. Will you help us?"