“Yes, but—”

“Some of my relatives used magery to enhance those attacks—”

“They attacked animals?”

“As a way to attack people, my lord. I overheard, once—and was punished for having passed by the door at the wrong time—one of them speak of you, Duke Marrakai. You know they hated you, and they hated also your reputation for breeding the best horses. They had devised, they thought, a way to ruin your reputation by destroying your horses, but the process was arduous and they were willing to wait years, they said.”

“They nearly destroyed my son,” Marrakai said. “Though I suppose that, too, would have pleased them.”

“No doubt,” Dorrin said. “Do you know who saddled the horses that day? If it is the same thing, it must be placed on the horse no more than a glass before it is ridden. A groom—”

“None of the grooms admit to saddling those two horses—or any of the horses the boys rode that day. Most often the boys tack up for themselves, but sometimes it is done for them, especially if there’s word they will be late to the stable.”

“Were any of the grooms sick, between the time you captured and imprisoned Verrakaien—including the ones I sent you—and the time of this attack on the horses?”

“Sick?” Mahieran frowned. “I don’t know, to be sure. All the grooms had been with us a long time—”

“One was,” Marrakai said. “Don’t you remember, Sonder? That fellow—what was his name?—who usually did stalls in the new wing. We asked for him—Pedraig, that was his name—and they said he was sick with the wasting. Then in two tendays, that he was like to die, a terrible fever. But he recovered.”

Dorrin’s stomach clenched. “That’s your man.”

“Pedraig? He’s been with us for years,” Mahieran said. “He’d never do anything to hurt a horse or a child, I promise you.”

“Pedraig wouldn’t,” Dorrin said. “But the man in his body now is not Pedraig. Did any Verrakai sicken and die—or die suddenly, aside from execution—while imprisoned?”

“Three,” Mahieran said. Now he looked worried. “Do you think—”

“I think a Verrakai contrived Pedraig’s illness, and took him over,” Dorrin said. “Perhaps one in prison, perhaps one living concealed in the city, or elsewhere in the palace staff. Though how he could manage that from a distance I do not know. What I do know is that I must go now, immediately, and see this fellow—”

“Now?”

“He will know I have come to the coronation—if it’s not gossip in the stable I’d be amazed—and if it is one I captured and sent here, he knows I have the full magery. He knows I can reveal him. At least the king is safe here, or so I hope—”

Mahieran started. “Gird’s arm! He was about to make his progress—!”

“What?”

“Come,” Mahieran said, and Dorrin followed as he hurried back to the reception. Over his shoulder, Mahieran said, “The new king greets all the palace servants—including in the stables—and then mounts his horse to ride in procession through the city and around the bounds—Midsummer, you know.”