I risked a glance at Tal, who was watching Iolanthe— Adrian’s betrothed was in the process of putting as many riders as possible between herself and Adrian’s demon. I felt myself smile and looked down, forcing it back. My sense of humor had gotten me into trouble before. Tal, I saw, did not find it funny; but then Tal would let vultures tear out his liver before he let an honest expression cross his face, at least in the presence of enemies.
Hartley Quince moved near Adrian, placed a hand on his bridle and said, “Tell me, is this the place where the Royal Hunt is held? I hate to put my faith in gossip.” Several of the knights shot him hateful looks. He went on, “Of course, I’ve never seen one, but I understand the entire Park is closed off. It must be a massive undertaking.”
If he’d hoped to disconcert Adrian by a reference to his own death, he was disappointed. From what I’d read, the Mercati had not been born who was socially uncomfortable. Adrian smiled and added, “You must come by after I do attend one. I’ll let you know what it was like.”
And then the dogs were released.
The pace was not quick at first. The dogs snuffled happily around, glad to be out and stretching their legs. None of the riders seemed to be in a great hurry to follow either; I saw drinks passed from a flask and people laughing.
I maneuvered my way past Quince and Fischer to Adrian’s side and, avoiding any nearness to the formidable-looking bird of prey, said, “Sir, I wonder if I might speak with you.”
He matched his speed to mine. “Of course, Miss Gray.”
“I was at the Starhall Theater yesterday.”
“Oh?” For a second he seemed disconcerted.
“Are you familiar with the Starhall Theater, sir?”
“Yes. I’ve attended any number of performances there.” His face plainly said, You have a strange way of dipping into social chat.
“Well, they’re doing a performance of Becket. Their notices say it’s from a book in your personal library.”
He smiled. “So it is. I let their manager—I forget the gentleman’s name—wander through and choose what he liked. I’m afraid I haven’t read it, myself. I will get to Earth history one day, but there are so many other subjects to run through first.”
I described the quarter-hour of rehearsal I’d observed while waiting in vain for Spider. His smile vanished, and when I got to the line, Who will rid me of this insolent priest? he interrupted.
“This was passed by the Censor?” he asked.
“I would assume so,” I replied, “or they wouldn’t be in rehearsals.”
We rode on silently. I noticed that Quince was trying to ride up a bit nearer, and Fischer kept blocking him. Adrian said, “I see. Thank you for bringing it up.”
“One of the actors told me it was their manager’s idea.”
“Yes. Thank you.” He looked down into my face, seeming to regret something. “I won’t forget it,” he said.
For some reason I felt myself color. “I just thought it was something you should know.”
A hare was brought out of cover shortly, and the dogs outdistanced the horses in their eagerness. I was glad to leave court speech behind and let Jewel gallop, which she did, unsurprisingly, in a thorough ladylike way. We don’t have engineered temperaments at home; we prefer to take creatures as they come—it’s cheating at Solitaire, otherwise—but that meant taking Jewel, too, and I rather liked her.
We left the majority of the party behind. Apparently they’d come for social reasons, as I should have guessed from the silk clothing. I didn’t bother to scan for Tal.
We reached the top of a slope, overlooking a broad green meadow where a brown stripe zigzagged with drunken speed. “Better unhood him,” called Brandon Fischer, “or the dogs will get there first.” Adrian freed the falcon.
Its wingspan took me by surprise. It flew straight up into a broad semicircle, then dropped like a stone. I’d lost sight of the hare by then, but the falcon had no such trouble. The brown shape was pulled out of the long grass, and a scream, piercing and eerie, like a baby’s cry, rent the false spring air.
The falcon knew it had first due; it grasped the haunch and then tore out the liver with its beak. The dogs arrived a few seconds later for what was left.
I glanced around at the others as we descended the slope. Some of the later party had caught up to us, including Iolanthe and Hartley Quince. On various faces I saw interest, distraction, the excitement of hard riding, and actual boredom. But Will Stockton looked repelled. Another non-aristo, I thought.
Adrian appeared beside me. “Is this new to you, Miss Gray?”
“I’ve stalked prey before,” I told him. “Once to pass a test, and after that for food … or other reasons. But never for sport—though I acknowledge that sport may be in it.”
Hartley Quince came up on the other side.“No doubt you could skin this hare for us and cook it right here in the Park.”
“If there were any left, no doubt I could.”
Iolanthe, who had ridden closer in time to hear this, looked superior.
In fact, there would have been little left to cook. The whole process had taken about forty minutes, hardly worth the preparation, and I strongly suspected the hare’s deck had been stacked genetically, as well. Barely a hunt; barely even a parlor game.
The consensus seemed to be that it was time for the refreshments to be served.
I dropped behind the rest on the way back to the stables, and Tal joined me. Adrian, noticer that he was, peered about and ambled over to us before Tal could say anything to me.
“So, Miss Gray, an excellent bit of exercise.”
With emphasis
