The Duke led him through the rest of it—mounting, riding out to the drill field—step by step. Camwyn described the horse’s behavior. “They were all shifting around—not just mine, who was pawing. It’s spring, and we haven’t been out for days—”

“What was Aris Marrakai’s horse doing?”

“Prancing in place. I heard Aris talking to it—we’re not supposed to, in drill, but he was trying to calm it.” Camwyn went on to tell the rest as clearly as he could.

“What did the lump look like? Part of the horse or something on the horse?”

“On the horse,” Camwyn said. “Like—like one of those mud nests some wasps make, but only this big …” He held his forefinger and thumb apart. “Maybe as thick as my thumb. Dull-colored, flattened some where it was under the saddle.”

“You saw nothing, no lump, under the saddlecloth before you mounted?”

“No, it was under the saddle, right in the middle of the back. I wouldn’t have seen it.”

“Someone put it there,” Duke Serrostin said.

“That’s obvious,” Duke Mahieran said impatiently. “Camwyn, when the instructor knocked it off the horse’s back, did it break apart when it landed? Did you see anything come out of it?”

“No,” Camwyn said. “I was holding his horse here—” He gestured. “—and the lump went that way, where I couldn’t see. Do you know what it was?”

“No,” the Duke said. “I’m sure we’ll find out. You may go now. And this is not a topic for gossip, is that clear?”

Camwyn looked at his brother, but Mikeli’s face was blank as a closed door. No invitation to stay … Camwyn walked out, as Aris was ushered in; their eyes met briefly, Aris’s still angry.

Camwyn’s tutor and guards awaited, and he spent the rest of the time until lunch on the history of the Girdish wars, a period when the Marrakai—allied early with Gird—had gained importance. Camwyn had worked out most of the battles with his collection of miniature soldiers, and tried to impress his tutor with his perfect knowledge of the terrain, opposing forces, and tactical quirks of each, but his tutor concentrated on the unexciting areas of family genealogy, law, finance, and religion.

Lunch came while he was still struggling to untangle the lineages of Mahieran, Serrostin, Verrakai, Marrakai and their vassals during the Girdish wars. Camwyn preferred to consider merely their alliances—Girdish, anti-Girdish, and neutral—but his tutor insisted on his noticing who married whom and which branch of a family chose which.

After lunch in his own quarters, surrounded by palace guards and a hovering taster, Camwyn joined the others again in the Bells training hall for weapons drill. No time to talk there; the armsmaster kept them busy and breathless until all Camwyn wanted to do was fall to the floor and gasp. After that a lesson with the palace Marshal on the Code of Gird, and finally a bath and supper. With his brother and several of his brother’s friends, including Juris Marrakai. And Aris.