Parsewood always sent for the required number plus one, and an hour or so later the Brat arrived with a summons for the top nine, which was about what Wolf had expected. Putting on a brave front, the Blades-elect strode out to meet the monarch, loftily ignoring the excited juniors boiling along beside them.

In the chilly, barren flea room they lined up before Grand Master and the King, while the mysterious Garbeald leaned against the wall with arms folded, watching the proceedings in contemptuous silence.The boys were shocked by their first close look at the two Court dandies. From the plumes on their bonnets to the pointed toes of their buskins, they sparkled and shone. Their polychrome sleeves were puffed and slashed beyond all reason, while their capes and jerkins came down only to their waists, exposing silken hose like paint from ankle to but-tocks and gaudy, padded codpieces spangled with jewels. These were the new palace fashions that had appeared since the old Queen departed, featuring the new King's taste.They made Parsewood look like a shabby old crow in his Iron-hall patches, and the candidates even shabbier.

"Prime Candidate Viper," Grand Master mumbled,"His Majesty has need of a Blade. Are you ready to serve?"

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Viper agreed that he was, paid homage to the King, and was granted a gra-cious few words of welcome.Then came Second . . . and so on.Wolf had put him-self at the end of the line, but when Number Seven, Hengist, had kissed the royal fingers, Parsewood passed over Lynx.

"Candidate Wolf, His Majesty has need of a Blade.Are you ready to serve?"

Wolf snapped back to the beating of hooves, moonlight like crys-tal, the iron world of winter . . .

"I never expected him to want me," he told Hogwood. "I stared right at him-which is not proper protocol with a king, of course-and he sneered back at me, daring me to let him put a sword through my heart in the binding ritual. If it missed by a hair's-breadth, I would die, and Baels are not known for compassion. But all my friends were watch-ing, so I had no choice. I walked forward and knelt to kiss his fingers."

"The logic escapes me," she said.

"It escapes me now, but I was nineteen then. His Majesty said,'I do recall Candidate Wolf's skill with steel.' Who was laughing now? Well enough! It was an honor to be remembered by my sovereign and if he had left it there, as his mother would have done, then we could have all smiled and admired His Grace's grace. But Athelgar Radgaring has the tact of a crotch louse.

" 'Ready for a rematch, are you,Wolf ?' he said.

"That was gloating.Yes, he was my King and I should have bridled my tongue. I didn't. I said, 'Don't worry, this time I won't be armed.' " Hogwood gasped. "That was insolence!" "That was stupidity! I told you it was stupid." Wolf increased the pace, ending the conversation-but not ending the memories.

Parsewood said hastily,"Finally, sire, I have the honor of presenting Candi-date Lynx, who will henceforth serve Your Majesty as Prime, here in Ironhall." Lynx bowed. That should have been that. The candidates waited for dis-missal.

"Well, my friend," the King said, "who do you fancy?"

"Viper, I think," Garbeald said in a bored drawl."I like his taste in names. And that last one. He is so incredibly ugly!" Athelgar laughed."He doesn't need a sword-he frightens people to death." He smiled again. "But I want to bind Candidate Wolf personally."

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The Bael shrugged and pointed at Hengist. "That one, then."

Athelgar nodded to Parsewood.

"Candidates Viper and Hengist stay a moment," Grand Master said."The rest of you may go."

He in the Guard, his friend Hengist a private Blade, and Lynx as Prime- all Wolf's predictions had been wrong and he was in shock as he followed the oth-ers out.They trooped downstairs to gird on their swords again, then to head out to the quad and the cheers of the assembled juniors. One of the knights was wait-ing below, congratulating each man in turn, but when it came to Wolf's turn, he added, "A word with you, Candidate."

The others departed, leaving the two of them alone.

Durendal, Lord Roland, former Lord Chancellor, and greatest of all Blades since his legendary namesake who founded the Order-even the cynical seniors held Durendal in awe.Widowed and bored in retirement, he had come to live at Ironhall the previous year, and although he refused any formal title or duties, the entire place soon revolved around him. He could explain anything better than anyone, see farther, say more in fewer words. In fencing, strategy, or statecraft he was the supreme expert. He had a kind or humorous word for everyone and he spoke to the grooms in the stable the same way he spoke to Grand Master.

"You did not spit in the King's eye, I hope?"

"Not quite, my lord."

Roland frowned."Good. I was a little worried. I just wanted to tell you that it was my idea."

"What was?"

"Separating you and Lynx. Blame me. I suggested it to Grand Master. For Lynx's sake,Wolf."

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you do." Roland's smile took the sting out of the contradiction. "He needs a few months without you.You've been mother and father to him too long."

"He's only seventeen! He can't handle being Prime! Some of those oafs have two years on him!"

The young ones might be worse, though. Lynx was bigger than Wolf, better-looking, much better liked, and potentially a better fencer, although even there he tended to be too easygoing. Wolf told him he lacked the killer instinct, never dreaming how that humor would return to haunt him. Lynx's binding should 26.

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take care of that weakness in due course, but he would not have binding to help him to handle the junior rat pack.They could make his life one big torment.

Roland laughed."They'll all stand on their heads for him. Go out there and tell him you're proud of him and expect him to do a great job-which he will."

"Yes, my lord."

"Wolf,Wolf! He needs a chance to prove himself.You proved yourself years ago collecting those scars."

He clapped Wolf's shoulder. "Let him wipe his own nose for a while. Understand?"

"I do trust your judgment, my lord."

Durendal just smiled at the sarcasm."I am flattered! Vicious has been prun-ing out older men, so the Guard is below strength. Believe me, Lynx will be along to join you by summer."

"And what about this Garbeald?"

Roland glanced at the stair and frowned. "Who's missing?"

"Viper and Hengist."

"Ah. And if His Majesty chooses to assign two Blades to his friend, will you complain to him?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Kings are not always right, Wolf, but they're always kings. And don't you worry about tomorrow night. Athelgar won't miss."

Wolf said, "You're certain of that?" It was his heart they were discussing.

Durendal smiled. "Oh, yes. A monarch must consider his reputation."

The wind was rising, swirling snowflakes over the icy ground in fairy dances. Moonlight shone on corpse-pale clouds piling up in the west, suggested a storm, which at these temperatures would be a killer. They still had two-thirds of the way to go.

The next time they dropped back to a walk, Hogwood said, "Ob-viously the King did not kill you."

"You snoops are wonderfully observant."

"I cannot imagine how any of you find the courage to sit and let someone drive a sword through your heart."

"There's no real danger," Wolf said. "We've all seen it done a hun-dred times before we have to do it ourselves."

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Expect him. Conjury always gave him a thundering headache, and after four hundred years the Forge was so tainted by spirituality that he had never stayed there long enough to watch a binding completed.That night he had no choice and within the octogram itself the effect was murderously intense.

He was barely con-scious as he stumbled through the words of the oath.When he sat on the anvil with Lynx and Modred holding his arms, he knew vaguely that the King was taking much longer than usual to line up the stroke, letting the point of the sword wander all around the target chalked on his bare chest, but all he was thinking was that he wanted Athelgar to kill him quickly and put him out of his misery.

"So you won the dare," Hogwood said. "Youwon! Why do you still hate the King?"

She was still fishing for the Celeste story, and Athelgar had ordered him to keep it secret.

"It's my turn to ask questions.Why are you so interested in me, in-quisitor? Are you investigating this Quondam mystery, or me?"

"Professional curiosity, Sir Wolf. You are a curious case. You are a perfectionist, the smartest man in the Guard. You named your swordDiligenceand you polish it about six times a day.You rarely apply the se-duction skills that are the main compensation for being a Blade, and when you do form a sexual pairing, it never lasts long.You show no in-terest in other men. The Guard's confidential file on you describes you as a ready killer who enjoys killing. Understandably, you have no close friends. Is that really all that drives you-a love of killing?"

Had any man asked such a question, Wolf would have blistered his ears, but no man would have dared.

Besides, they had long leagues to go yet, and conversation would keep him from brooding on Lynx and his wounds.

"You are good at answering questions with questions, Inquisitor, but you are asking the same thing twice. Do you know what set off the Thencaster affair?"This was a hair-trigger topic, because the treason had come very close to the Dark Chamber itself.

"Lord Wassail walked in on the King's toilet and told him he would be deposed if he didn't act quickly."

"I mean what set off the treason?"

"The King made some bad decisions.The ultimatum from Thergy-"

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"You're quoting history books. Athelgar behaved like a maniac, but the last straw was not Thergy. It was Garbeald."

After a moment Hogwood admitted, "I don't know what you mean."

"You know of him as the Duke of Brinton, a Baelish thug who had made even Baelmark too hot to hold him. Athelgar gave that scum-bucket a royal dukedom. He alsogavehim two superb young men, like a pair of hunting dogs-Viper and Hengist.They were bound the same night I was. It was when that pissant fustilugs raped Lord Lowbridge's daughter that the Chivian nobility decided they had endured enough.

That was when the Thencaster Conspiracy was born."

"Tell me about Viper and Hengist, then."

"No."Wolf nudged his horse to a trot, which made further conver-sation impossible.

5.He knew theWest Road like the damask on his sword, and it had never seemed longer than it did that night.They changed mounts again at New Cinderwich, then went on through the killer dark to Flaskbury.

The snowy world lay dead and silent under a moon like a ball of ice. He had to stop repeatedly to attend to the horses' feet.

Teeth, claws, clubs-what was he up against? What opponents fought with such a mix?Lynx, Lynx!

What have they done to you?

The leg west from Flaskbury was the longest; the eastern sky was brightening by the time they reached Holmgarth. He was determined not to slacken the pace before Hogwood asked him to or fell back, and so far she had done neither. He thundered on the door of the post house until a sleepy hand admitted them.

They waited in the stable itself while the lad led grumpy horses out from their stalls to show.The lamps cast grotesque shadows, the urinous air made eyes sting, but at least there was warmth. Slumped on a bale of 29.

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straw, Hogwood looked half dead with fatigue, obviously still believing she could keep up with a bound Blade.

"There is no inn between here and Ironhall," Wolf said. "This is your last chance to take a break."

She looked up sourly. "You lead, I'll follow."

"As you please. We won't stay long at Ironhall. As soon as we've heard from the witnesses there, we'll push on to Quondam itself."

"You are in charge, Sir Wolf."She folded her arms and looked down at the floor again, but now she was wearing her dead-fish mask. He sus-pected she was using it to hide fear, in which case the danger she fore-saw must lie at Quondam.

"Did you have any choice when you were detailed to accompany me?"

"We are not allowed to discuss the-"

"I heard.You think I'm going to bungle the most important inquiry in years? The whole Dark Chamber must think so.You were assigned to me as patsy, Hogwood, and you know it.What do they do to inquisitors who fail to get their man? Rack them? Burn them at the stake?"

Glassy stare."If this mission fails it will be through no fault of mine, Sir Wolf." She could not possibly be old enough to have much experi-ence of major investigations, certainly not as senior inquisitor.

"Nor mine. I always get my man. Perhaps I'll be able to cut a few more notches in my sword belt soon, mm? Think so?"

She turned her face away in silence, as if disgusted by his black humor.

The groom brought another horse and again Wolf told him he did not want one with white hooves. He led it back into the shadows.

After a moment she said, "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"