Niggled by his worries, Ryce had no interest in the remainder of the hunt. Still, he was pleased with the afternoon's success: five deer, another boar, several braces of game birds brought down by the archers, and sufficient hares to have exhausted the hounds. Unfortunately, the last kill of the hunt, a fine stag, had led them a merry dance, and the hunt ended later than he'd wanted. They wouldn't be home until after dark. Still, the last part of the ride would be along the main Throssel road, and the clear skies meant there'd be plenty of moonlight.

They left most of the retainers behind on Beck's Field to butcher the kill and load the carts. Even the hounds would remain there with the houndmaster until they were rested enough to return the following morning, along with the grooms and the extra horses.

As he set off down the track that led from Beck's Field to the main Throssel road, Ryce counted those with him: ten huntsmen, courtiers with their attendants numbering about thirty-five all told, and the twenty men of his guard. Everyone was tired, but mostly content. It had been a good hunt: no one seriously hurt, no horses permanently maimed, and a good selection of wild meat for the palace kitchens.

Horntail, as usual, had divided the guards up, half in front, half behind. The cart track was only wide enough for two abreast, and Ryce was happy to ride alongside Lord Anthon Seaforth, an old friend of his.

"Good to see the King so active and in good spirits," Anthon remarked. "There's been too little good cheer of late."

"Too little to be cheerful about," Ryce said.

"And you with a lovely young wife and an heir? Shame on you!"

He had something he wanted to ask Anthon to do, and he wasn't sure how he was going to introduce the topic. It'd be pointless to hint. Give him a hunter between his knees and a pack of fellhounds at the kill and Anthon wouldn't notice if it rained fish and blueberries.

Ryce decided to be blunt. "I heard yesterday that another shrine was burnt up north in Shenat country."

Anthon frowned. "Primordials?"

"No, not this time. It was those grey-clad fellows no one knows much about. Some say they're the agents of Va-faith, but a recent edict from the Pontifect said that's a lie."

"Ah, yes. Prelate Masterton read it out loud last chapel day. Something about them actually out to destroy the unity of Va-faith. Reckon that's true?"

"The Pontifect isn't reckless with her accusations. If she says they want to destroy belief in the Ways and kill folk with witcheries, then it's true. There was a hellish row about that edict, though. Fox didn't want it read."

"And Conrid Masterton read it anyway? That was brave."

"Masterton was appointed by the Pontifect, not the Prime. Pox on them, these grey-clad wretches, they are a nasty lot. A horde of thugs wrecking our peace and our unity, and supplanting it with something else, using violence. Three years ago, if you'd told me that was going to happen, I'd have laughed in your face."

"You aren't exaggerating, are you, your highness?" Anthon shot him a worried glance. "I mean, most people don't believe in what this rabble is spouting forth, let alone consider joining them. Your grey horde will end up looking as silly as drunks in a gutter."

"I wish I could believe that."

"But it's all up in Shenat country, on the borders, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

Anthon looked shocked. "Well, I'm sure the King's Company can take care of it."

Ryce rolled his eyes. He had little faith in a force of three thousand men led by a handful of impoverished noblemen who regarded the job as a way of getting paid for nothing more than holding a few parades on special occasions.

"What does King Edwayn say?" Anthon asked.

"It's a religious matter the Prime should settle."

"And the Prime says?"

"That there isn't a problem. Anthon, your cousin Beargoldhe's an officer in the King's Company, right?"

"Yes. Useless muckle-top. Gambles away his pay, that fellow. Family doesn't have much to do with him these days. The silly laggard is always wanting to borrow money."

"Have a word in his ear, will you? Tell him to bring the men in his corps up to top-notch fighting readiness. They need to know more than how to polish their shoes and wear bright red coats to parades."

Anthon looked thunderstruck.

"I mean it, Anthon. In fact, go to all ten company commanders, and tell themconfidentially, mindthat I'll quadruple the allowances of those in charge of the top three corps six months from now. We'll have a competition to determine the winning corps. Swordplay, archery, fitness, horsemanship, arquebus, the lot. Prize money for the top individuals too. Tell them to keep it quiet, though, as it's going to be a surprise for the King."

"You'd do that?" He blinked. "Out of your own pocket?"

"Yes, and you'd better hope that their fitness for combat is not needed before then."

"Pickles 'n' pox, you are worried! Tell you what, I'll match whatever money you put up."

Ryce grinned. "Knew I could rely on you."

"You bastard. You hooked me deliberately!"

Just then they rode up on Horntail, who had pulled his horse to the edge of the track. "A word, your highness," he said.

Ryce nodded to Anthon to drop back, and Horntail took his place at Ryce's side. "What's the matter, captain?"

"Not sure. Maybe naught. Just seems too quiet. No birdcalls, no squirrels. And the horses up front smell something that's making them restless."

He tilted his head, listening, momentarily ashamed that he hadn't noticed anything amiss. He watched the movement of his horse's ears and concluded that Horntail was right. Turning in the saddle, he opened his mouth to ask Anthon to pass a warning back to be on the alert, but the words remained unspoken. The scream of a horse ahead of them, followed by shouts, made any warning superfluous.

" 'Ware!"

"Look up!"

"Archers in the trees!"

Beside him, Horntail bellowed, "Flee! Everyone for himself!"

Time only for a random thought: Rot it, everyone has their bows unstrung...

An arrow thwanged past his head, clipping the top of his ear. He ducked, reached to draw his sword. Horntail viciously snatched the reins out of his hands and flipped them over his horse's head. Then the sergeant raised his horn to his lips and gave a single blast.

"What the pox do you think you're doing!" Ryce bawled at him, flinging himself forward in a vain attempt to grab the reins back.

Horntail took no notice. He was already hauling the Prince's horse away from the track and into the trees.

Another arrow slammed into Ryce's saddle above his knee. A third took a chunk out of his horse's mane, which sent the animal flying through the undergrowth with scant attention to its own safety. A volley of arrows bracketed him, one clipping the heel of his boot.

Sweet Va, they're everywhere! He kept himself tucked in low over his horse's neck. Fury swamped his terror. "Fuck you, Horntail! Let go!"

But if the sergeant heard, he took no notice. Ryce leaned forward to reach the reins, but all he achieved was to pull Horntail halfway out of the saddle. When it was clear the man was determined not to let go even if he fell, Ryce relinquished his hold.

The arrows stopped coming, but Horntail's pace never slackened. Bushes beat at the legs of their horses as they twisted through the trees at a reckless pace. A low branch nearly swept him from his saddle. A few paces further on, only his quick thinking saved his knee from being shattered against the trunk of a tree.

Not wanting to alert the attackers to where they were, he stopped yelling. His rage was undiminished. I'll kill him. I swear I'll skin him alive.

At last the mad bolt slackened and he was able to wrench his reins from Horntail's hold and manipulate them back over the head of his mount.

He drew his horse to a halt, gazed back over his shoulder, searching for movement, for any sign of the attackers. The undergrowth stilled behind them; nothing moved. He couldn't even be sure which way they had come. Somewhere in the distance, men and horses screamed. Dying. He swallowed back vomit and turned once more towards Horntail.

"How dare you!" In his anger he could barely force the words through his teeth.

The sergeant pulled his mount around to face him. "For the safety of my prince I'd dare anything. Even disobedience."

"Your duty is to obey me!" His hands shook with rage. "I could see you dead for your treason."

"Ten years back, my King bade me keep his son safe, whether it cost me my pride, or my honour, or my life, and that's what I've done this day."

"You caused me to desert those under my care! You caused me to lose all honour this day. And you lost your own, indeed. How can I ever lead men when they've seen me desert them? They saw me flee a field of battle. Run away, like a craven coward."

Thinking to return to where the ambush had taken place, he pulled his horse around. There was nothing to be heard now. The dying had been silenced.

"It's over," Horntail said. "I saved your life. Whoever they were, it was you, my prince, they sought. The only living will be those who fled. We were surrounded by archers in trees loosing arrows. What could we do, any of us? Our bows unstrung, our arrows mostly already loosed once today and in need of refletching! They had us caught like pigeons in a net for plucking, about to have their necks wrung."

He closed his eyes. Breathed deep. Patted the quivering neck of his mount.

Blister the hedge-born vassal; he was right. "You deserted your men," he said finally.

"Aye."

"A dark moment for us both, then."

"Aye."

Horntail pointed a finger. "If we ride towards the setting sun, that way, we'll get ourselves out of this cursed forest before dark, methinks."

He looked over his shoulder. "There must be wounded men back there. We have to go back."

"I blew the horn. It was the signal to scatter and flee. My men will have obeyed. They will regroup, what's left of them, and help any who are still alive."

Anthon, I pray you are one such...

"Your highness, I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to ride back."

"Can't allow me, Horntail? Since when does a sergeant give orders to a prince?"

"Since he was appointed by his king, your highness."

Sick at heart, he nodded his reluctant agreement. Perhaps this would be what it would be like to rule. Not to be a hero, but to be wise. "Let's get to the road, then."

They urged the horses on. Twice they had to dismount and lead them, picking their way down slopes and up hills. They didn't speak again until they'd emerged from the forest. Grimly, he looked up and down the deserted road, now barely visible in the gloaming.

He was desperate to get help, but the horses needed to be walked, and he knew it. He curbed his raging impatience and said as they continued on, "Who were they, Horntail?" Va, he sounded piss-weak.

"I've no idea."

Think, you ninnyhead. Marshal your thoughts. You're a prince! "It was a clever ambush. Good place. They chose their spot well."

"Aye. Well executed. They were accurate with their arrows."

"Well trained, then. What makes you think they were after me? Why not the King?"

"If they'd wanted the King they'd've known the likelihood he wouldn't be hunting all day. They would have waited for him earlier."

He thought about that. "They knew where to wait, and when. Someone told them."

"Reckon you could be right, your highness."

A traitor.

But why? Why me? Tamping down his anger, he considered coldly the little they knew. "To train men, you need space and privacy and time. A large estate somewhere."

"Money to spare," Horntail added.

The horses paced wearily on. "Privacy," he said at last. "That's the key. Secrets don't last long usually. Some chambermaid working at his manor house would have a relative working in the palace, or a stableboy would blab to his sister at a neighbouring property. That's the way things work, especially when something unusual is going on. People talk."

The King always knows what I'm up to. Or he did, in the days when he cared to listen.

He looked across at Horntail. "So, possessing estates no one's ever invited to visit, a man of wealth whose servants don't mix with otherswe all know who fits that description. All we have to ask, in fact, is what's changed."

"What's changed? His confidence. Prime-poxy-Fox now thinks he can attack the King's heirand get away with it."

It was an effort to unclench his jaw sufficiently to speak. "We will see about that!"

For a time, they paced on in silence. To Ryce, the night had a dream-like quality to it; a feeling of being intensely alive hand in hand with knife-edged fear. A moonlit road, tired horses, shadows dancing as the wind tossed the trees, two men from different walks of life suddenly closer than brothers.

"Witan Saker Rampion warned me," Horntail said. "He said Fox moves with men who serve A'Va. So I found out all I could about the Prime."

"I've heard his staff are not even Ardronese."

"Heard that too. The Fox family has at least one estate in every country of the Va-cherished Hemisphere. Their staff? They move from one estate to another. You're right, visitors aren't welcome. They never mix with their neighbours. Ask about who lives there, and no one seems to know."

"Does Valerian have a family?"

"There's vague talk of a son. Or possibly sons."

"He's married?"

Horntail didn't know.