The Hallowed Hunt

Was that the barest nervous flinch on Fritine’s part? Ingrey took a breath. 'Now you desire to make use of it, too, setting me to guard Princess Fara. This seems to me a grave mandate, for a man you do not trust. Or do you mean to extract the use of me first, then turn on me? I warn you, I can swim.'

Fritine considered this bait for a long moment and shrewdly declined to bite. 'Then it behooves you to continue to make yourself useful, don’t you think?'

'I see.' Ingrey favored him with a slightly too-sweeping bow. 'It seems I am at your service, Archdivine.'

Hetwar shifted a little uncomfortably at this blatant exchange. It was not that he was above threats, but he had always managed to find smoother ways to move Ingrey to his will, a courtesy Ingrey appreciated aesthetically if nothing else.

'Since you put it so compellingly,' said Ingrey—Hetwar grimaced, he saw out of the corner of his eye—'I will undertake to be your spy. And the princess’s bodyguard.' He gave Biast a polite nod, which Biast, at least, had the mother wit to return.

'This brings up the disposition of the prisoner,' said Hetwar. 'If Wencel is suspect, so is his courtesy of housing Lady Ijada. It may be time to move her to more secure quarters.'

Ingrey froze. Was Ijada to be torn from his wardenship? He said carefully, 'Would that not prematurely reveal your suspicions to Wencel?'

'By no means,' said the archdivine. 'Such a change was inevitable, after the funeral.'

'It seems to me her present lodging is adequate,' protested Ingrey. 'She makes no attempt to run, trusting to Temple justice. I did mention she was naive,' he added, by way of a jab at Fritine.

'Yes, but you cannot guard two places at once,' Biast pointed out logically.

Hetwar, finally growing alive to the sudden tension in Ingrey’s stance, held up a restraining hand. 'We can discuss this later. I thank you for volunteering in this difficult matter, Lord Ingrey. How soon do you think you might slip into Horseriver’s household?'

'Tonight?' said Biast.

No! I must see Ijada! 'It would look odd, I fear, if I were to arrive before he begged me of you, Lord Hetwar. Nor should you let yourself be persuaded too readily. And I am in need of food and sleep.' That last was unblunted truth, at least.

'I would have my sister guarded now,' said Biast.

'Perhaps you might arrange to visit her yourself, then.'

'I have no uncanny powers to set against Wencel!'

You begin to believe you need me unburned, then, do you? Good. 'Is there no Temple sorcerer to set in guard, meanwhile?'

'The ones I deem suitable are out on tasks,' said Lewko. 'I shall dispatch an urgent recall as soon as I may.' Fritine nodded to this.

'Peace, prince,' said Hetwar to Biast, who was opening his mouth again. 'I think we can take no further sensible action tonight.' He pushed up from his writing table with a tired grunt. 'Ingrey, step out with me.'

Ingrey excused himself to the seated powers, making sure to direct a special little farewell bow to Gesca just to worry him. If Gesca was Horseriver’s spy, how would Wencel react when this report reached him? Although the earl must have anticipated Cumril’s accusation. At least Gesca might testify that the suspicion hadn’t come from Ingrey. Yes. Let Gesca run, for now. Follow his scent, see if it goes where I think.

Ingrey followed Hetwar down the dim, carpeted corridor, well out of earshot of the closed study door. 'My lord?'

Hetwar turned to him and stood close under a sconce. The candlelight edged his troubled features. 'It had been my belief before now that Wencel’s keen interest in the upcoming election was on his brother-in-law’s behalf. He has been deep in my councils therefore. Now I’ve cause to wonder if, like Boleso, it is some much closer desire.'

'Has he made new actions aside from his odd interest in Ijada?'

'Say rather, old actions seen in a new light.' Hetwar rubbed his forehead, and squeezed his eyes shut, briefly. 'While you are guarding Fara, keep your eyes open for evidences of any, shall I say, unhealthily personal interest on Wencel’s part in the next hallow kingship.'

'I am very sure Wencel is not interested in mere political power,' Ingrey said.

'This statement does not reassure me, Ingrey. Not when a certain wolf-lord has uttered the words kingship and magery in the same breath. I know very well you left things unsaid in there.'

'Wild speculation bears its own hazards.'

'Indeed. I want facts. I do not wish to lose a valuable ally through offensive false accusations, nor conversely to fail to guard against a dangerous enemy.'

'My curiosity in this matter is as great as yours, my lord.'

'Good.' Hetwar clapped him on the shoulder. 'Go, then, and see about that food and sleep you mentioned. You look like death on a platter, you know. Are you sure you weren’t really ill, this morning?'

'I should have much preferred it. Did Lewko report my confession?'

'Of your so-called vision? Oh, aye, and a lurid tale it was.' He hesitated. 'Though Biast seemed to take some comfort in it.'

'Did you believe it?'

Hetwar cocked his head. 'Did you?'

'Oh,' breathed Ingrey, 'yes.'

Hetwar stood very still, first seeking Ingrey’s eyes, then, after a moment, dropping his gaze uncomfortably. 'I regret missing that entertainment. So what did you and the god really say to each other?'

'We... argued.'

Hetwar’s lips curled up in a genuine, if dry, smile. 'Why does this not surprise me? I wish the gods well of you. May They have better luck getting straight answers from you than I ever did.' He began to turn away.

'My lord,' said Ingrey suddenly.

Hetwar turned back. 'Aye?'

'If, ah... ' Ingrey swallowed to moisten his throat. 'A favor. If, for any reason, my cousin Wencel should suddenly die in the next few days, I beg you will see that I am brought at once before a Temple inquiry. With the best sorcerers Lewko can muster doing the examination.'

Hetwar frowned, staring at him. The frown deepened. He started to speak, but closed his lips again. 'I suppose,' he said at last, 'you imagine you can just hand me a thing like that and walk off, eh?'

'So you swear, yes.'

'You are confusing swear and curse, I think.'

'Swear.'

'Yes, then.'

'Good.'

Ingrey bowed and retreated. Hetwar did not call him back. Though a low and breathy cursing did, indeed, drift to Ingrey’s ears as he turned for the stairs.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

IJADA WAS SITTING AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRCASE AS THE porter admitted Ingrey to the prison-house’s entry hall, hunched over with her arms wrapped even more tightly about herself than the last time. Her warden sat a few steps above her, looking on in disquiet. Ijada sprang to her feet, her eyes searching Ingrey’s face for he knew not what, but she seemed to find it, for she pounced upon him. Grasping his