'If someone saw him come down...' Shadow began. But that was a futile thought. The country was almost a desert. Near Ramo no one could fall out of the sky without being seen, but there were few peasants on the Rand, at least not here.
'We've asked at every cottage,' the keeper said patiently.
More than half the men in the room were now asleep, slumped on the tables, and some were even stretched out on benches, snoring.
'You will send a second message, then?' Ninomar asked while Shadow was struggling to find words.
The duke nodded. 'I reported the accident and warned that there was very little hope. I think now we should say that although we shall continue to search, chances are almost nonexistent and he must be assumed dead. Perhaps you will wish to add your own report?'
'Did you tell them it was murder?' Shadow asked angrily.
He got four very steady, very cold stares.
'No I did not,' the duke said. 'Have you evidence of that?'
'There were no mutebats in the aerie. I had looked.' He turned to Vonimor. 'You cleaned them out. What did you do with the bodies?'
The eagler hesitated and then said, 'Threw them over. There's a megaday of junk at the dark side of the tower. Go and see.'
'Somebody did,' Shadow said. 'It is possible to get to that junk pile?'
'Yes.'
'Then somebody found one and took it up to the aerie. When no one was watching, he threw it past WindStriker. Any bird will snap up a mutebat--we all know that.'
The silence was deadly. Then the duke spoke. 'It must have been done within minutes of our departure. There were very few of us there. Whom do you accuse?'
Shadow dropped his eyes. 'I don't know. But it was one of us.'
'I think we might have missed a couple of the bats,' Vonimor muttered. 'They're hard to see...hard to get every last one...'
'It was murder,' Shadow said.
This time Ninomar broke the silence. 'If the prince dies by violence, Shadow, or is even injured, then you are automatically guilty of high treason, I believe. Is that not so? Whereas if he had an accident, then I expect a court would be lenient.'
And yet another silence. Again Shadow said stubbornly, 'It was murder.'
Ninomar and the duke exchanged glances.
'You are the civil authority, Your Grace,' the vice-marshal said. 'You now believe that the crown prince is dead?'
'Yes, I am afraid so.'
Ninomar nodded. 'Then, Shadow, you are no longer Shadow. You are Ensign...Harl, wasn't it? You are therefore under my orders. When we have all had some rest, the search will be resumed--and His Grace and myself will be in charge. You may continue to fly NailBiter, as no one else seems to be able to. There will be an inquiry--'
'I am Shadow!' Shadow shouted, scrambling to his feet. 'The king appointed me!'
'The king will kill you,' Ukarres muttered.
'I am Shadow!'
Ninomar waved an arm, and two sleepy-looking troopers hurried over.
'Take this man to his quarters,' he said.
'I am Shadow! I give the orders!'
As they dragged him from the hall he was still half weeping, half shouting: 'I am Shadow.'
Chapter 8
'Plain eggs can hatch strange chicks.'
'I will see that bet,' Aurolron XX said, 'and raise you three.'
The baby-faced trooper licked his lips. 'I believe I shall have to fold,' he muttered hoarsely.
The king's eyebrows rose. 'With a pair of queens showing?' he murmured. 'Where is the courage we expect in our Guard?'
Ensign Rolsok turned even paler--if that were possible--and pushed five gold royals toward the center of the table. It was a kiloday's pay for an ensign. He lived on his family's money, not on his stipend, but the tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip shone like fine jewels in the sunlight.
It was a long, long time since Shadow had enjoyed himself so much. Even sitting behind the king, he could not view the royal hand, for Aurolron played all cards close to the chest, but that did not matter--the king was playing with a marked deck, and Shadow could read all the other hands as well as Aurolron could. They had been at it since dinner, and the king was systematically, progressively, and mercilessly ruining his opponents. It was a vintage performance by the royal spider.
The balcony was crowded round by heavy trees, sheltered and private. Two bells had already rung, yet the game showed no signs of ending. It was an unusual group, the king and five youths: Prince Jarkadon and four others. The only persons close were Shadow and an elderly secretary whose job was to keep track of debts, while waiters and guards hovered at a distance. There was heaped gold, shining and clinking; there was fine wine; there was gracious conversation--a little strained at times--and there was gambling. There was no mercy. Perhaps there was even a smell of justice.
The court might gossip and censure, but it was rarely shocked. Certain things were a known peril for scullery maids and other minor menials--no one was interested in those private lives. Yet even the court's tolerance had its limits. When the daughter of a baronet was grievously abused, then full-scale scandal erupted.
A half-wit gardener was arrested, tried, convicted, and impaled.
The court was not deceived. The girl's family was displaying sudden new wealth, so silence had been purchased--and that was not done for dead gardeners. Stories were whispered of a group of young sadists who called themselves the Lions. The Lions, it was said, included representatives of some of the best families. The Lions had been indulging their peculiar taste in recreation for some time and had only just started to seek their victims among the better classes...and so on.
The royal spies brought all of the rumors and most of the facts to the king, and so to Shadow. Shadow knew very well who were the Lions and who was the leader of the pride. He knew who had bought the silence.
For a while the atrocities must have stopped or returned to the kitchens. Then a second case occurred among the gentry: this time two girls, one so damaged that she might never recover. The king defended his own--a couple of minor lackeys were hauled into court and duly found guilty. Again money and sinecures were dispensed to the families.
But this time the king had decided to act. Four young men were unexpectedly invited to a game of cards with His Majesty. Such an invitation was never refused, although each of them must have been surprised by it--they were friends of Prince Jarkadon, not of the king.
Surprise turned to terror when they saw who else had been invited. They waited grimly for mention of their sadistic diversions--and it did not come. They were there to play cards. The cards and coins were produced. The play began.
Understandably, the guests were not at their best. The king was. He could probably have beaten them handily without the marked deck. He was charming and courteous and lethal.
