The commander was dubious. “Pardon me if I point out, Lord, that one of your own kind attempted to kill the Walker and failed-—”

“Anora bungled it,” said Grald bluntly. “She foolishly alerted Draconas instead of taking him by surprise. Or perhaps her action was not so foolish. Perhaps it was deliberate. The Walker and Anora have been friends for many centuries.” His eyes narrowed so that they nearly disappeared in the shadows of his overhanging brow. “Draconas is cunning, but I am more so. This time, we will catch the Walker off guard. Ven will kill Draconas.”

“Ven is hardly strong enough—”

“Not the old Ven,” Grald interrupted with a grin. “The new Ven. Once I have taken over my son’s body, I will go to Draconas on some pretext or other and I will slay him. As simple as that.”

“Ah,” said the soldier in understanding.

“We must move faster than we have anticipated, however. When my son leaves the palace, apprehend him. Make no mention of the fact that you know where he has been. Let him think he has fooled us. Bring him here to me tonight, at the hour past slumber, when all is quiet.”

“And the Walker?”

Grald thought this over. “He must not be allowed to interfere with my plans. Keep him occupied.”

Leopold bowed. “As you command, Lord. I have one more question.”

“Ask it,” said Grald.

“When may I return to my company? My shield-mate and I do not want to miss out on the battle.”

“Do not worry, Commander. You will march with your comrades. You are too valuable a warrior to remain disguised as a monk forever.”

Leopold bowed at the compliment and took his departure.

Ven left the cavern by the way he’d entered. The sun was sinking into the west and the shadows were long by the time he descended from the mountain and found his way back to the city. That part wasn’t difficult. He simply followed the smell, the stench of humanity. He’d never noticed it before. Now he knew he would never get it out of his nostrils.

The Blessed pounced on him almost immediately. They said nothing, but he knew they knew where he’d been without a word being spoken. Their eyes flitted to him and flitted away. Like Bellona, they never looked at him long, if they could help it.

“I want to see Grald,” Ven demanded, as they wound their way through the maze of streets.

“Grald wants to see you, Dragon’s Son,” replied one of the monks, one who had a saner look than the others. He actually met and held Ven’s gaze.

“Good,” said Ven, rather nonplussed. “Then take me to him.”

“Not yet,” the Blessed said. “Grald is busy with the plans for war. He says that you should dine first and rest yourself after the exertions of the day. Grald bids you come to him after the hour of slumber.”