Promise of Blood

“Has it occurred to any of the arch-diocels,” Tamas said, “that Adro is no longer held by any of the agreements signed by previous kings? Technically, we don’t even have to pay tithe anymore.”

Charlemund sputtered. “I don’t think that’s true. I mean, we had an agreement…”

“With Manhouch,” Ondraus said. The reeve had a nasty smile on his face, and Tamas wondered if he had just given Ondraus an excuse to do something that would completely alienate the Church. Tamas squeezed his eyes shut. O Kresimir above. I shouldn’t have said anything.

“I think I’d like to catch up with the rest of the hunt now,” Tamas said before Charlemund could respond. “I can barely hear the hounds.” He urged his hunter on, reaching the whipper-in in a few moments.

Gaben turned. “Sir,” he said, “We’ve fallen significantly behind the rest of the group.”

“Yes,” Tamas said, “I gathered.”

“If you’d permit, sir,” Gaben said, “I’d like to lead us on a shortcut through the forest. I know where they’re planning on being in, oh”—he glanced up at the sun, which was showing through the trees—“two hours. I think we can catch them there. Otherwise we might not reach them until after the hunt has finished.”

“Sir,” Olem said in a low voice, “it’s dangerous to leave the hunt trail. These forests were the king’s own, bigger than Adopest and all the suburbs. I used to play in them as a boy. We get lost here and we could be gone for days.”

“The going will be slow,” the whipper-in said, “through the brush, but we should have no problem cutting them off. I know these woods well.”

“I don’t like it, sir,” Olem said.

Tamas pushed away his own uneasiness and gave Olem a smile. “Calm yourself. I’ve known Gaben since he was a boy. The worst things in these woods are deer. Lead on.”

They trotted along the deer trail, single file, making their way through the woods. The priestesses bantered loudly behind Tamas. He let his mind wander, considering battle plans and strategies. Battle had yet to be joined at the Gates of Wasal. Only at South Pike had shots been fired, and the unique positioning of the fortress town required very little strategy. They’d been shrugging off Kez advances for a month, with minimal loss and despite powerful sorceries on the Kez side. The very thought of Julene’s betrayal made Tamas’s blood boil.

And Taniel. What could he do? Bo was still alive and the two were working together to push back the Kez. That pleased Tamas. Yet Bo was still under the gaes. Could Tamas trust them? Taniel had disobeyed his orders. There would have to be redress for that, though Taniel claimed he had a good reason to keep Bo alive—they needed the Privileged to help hold Shouldercrown.

Tamas knew the real reason. Taniel hadn’t been able to do it. He’d not been able to kill his best friend, even when it was necessary; even on the order of his superior. Taniel had to know that Tamas would see through the excuses. Tamas pushed the thought aside, unwilling to let it ruin his day.

The terrain slowly changed as they rode. They descended into a valley where moss-covered boulders hemmed them in and the forest floor was thick with fallen branches and rotted pine needles. The place seemed to deaden all sound. An icy hand climbed Tamas’s spine. The forest felt old and deep, and the clop of their horses’ hooves an intrusion here.

Their deer trail ran out, and they followed a small brook. The boulders grew bigger, the tree canopy overhead thicker. It seemed they had not even reached the bottom of the valley. Tamas had no memory of this place from other hunts.

Tamas found himself staring at the back of Ondraus’s head. Wisps of silver hair clung to his skull, along with a pair of moles as big as a two-krana coin. Was he the traitor? Tamas became acutely aware that he rode with four of his council, any one of whom was just as likely the traitor as any of the others.

Olem suddenly spurred his horse forward. He passed the other riders and reined in before the whipper-in. “Where are we?” he said.

“Almost there,” Gaben said. “Not a mile from rejoining the hunt.”

“Then why can’t we hear hounds?” Olem said.

Tamas rode up to the front of the column, followed closely by Charlemund and Ondraus. Ricard remained at the back of the column, staring up at the boulders around them.

“It’s impossible to hear anything in these rocks,” Gaben said as Tamas reined in beside him.

“We’re not anywhere near the hunt,” Olem said. “This is the Giant’s Billiard Table. I ran here as a boy.”

Tamas scowled at Gaben. “Explain yourself.”

A rock fell from one of the boulders above. Tamas jerked around, eyes searching the forest. “Ricard?” he said. Ricard’s horse was alone at the back of the column, the reins thrown over a broken tree limb. Ricard was missing. Tamas turned back to Gaben. “Explain yourself. Now!”