Raj Ahten turned, left the stable. The captain of his guard had said that Gaborn Val Orden had slain one of the Wolf Lord’s scouts near here. The Prince would have left his scent behind.

Raj Ahten had endowments of scent from over a thousand men. Most of his scouts had taken endowments of scent from dogs, and hence feared the dogbane that the Prince carried.

“My lord, where are you going?” Jureem asked.

“To hunt Prince Orden,” Raj Ahten decided on impulse. His men would be long at work preparing for the march. With Raj Ahten’s endowments of metabolism, he could spend’time doing something of value, while others worked. “He may still be in the city. Some jobs you should not leave to lesser men.”

20

A PRINCE UNMASKED

“Och, orders is orders! His Lor’ship tol’ me to put the King and his girl on proper ’orses—even if I had to tie ’em in the saddle! The wagon’s too slow on such a long march, thru them woods,” Gaborn said, affecting a Fleeds accent.

The finest horsemen came from Fleeds, and he wanted to play the part of a trusted stableboy.

Gaborn sat atop his stallion, gazing down at the captain in the Dedicates’ Keep. The guards had raised the portcullis, and busily filled a great covered wain with Dedicates gained here at Castle Sylvarresta—those who acted as vectors for Raj Ahten, including King Sylvarresta.

“He say to me none of thees!” the captain said in his thick Taifan accent, glancing about nervously. His men had abandoned their posts to raid the kitchens for provisions. Some officers looted Sylvarresta’s treasury, and others down on Market Street were breaking shop windows. Every moment the captain spent talking to Gaborn meant the captain would have less time to stuff his own pockets.

“Aye, what do I know?” Gaborn asked.

Gaborn turned to leave, nudging his mount with his heels, pulling around the four horses he had on his lines. It was a delicate moment. Gaborn’s mount grew skittish, laid its ears back, rolled its eyes. Several soldiers hurried into the Dedicates’ Keep, to help loot the treasury. Gaborn’s stallion flinched at each soldier who crowded past, ventured a small kick at one man. One of the tethered stallions responded to the sudden move by bucking. Gaborn whispered soothing words to keep the whole bunch from bolting.

In the last few minutes, the streets had suddenly come alive with people—a mob of Raj Ahten’s men sprinted to the armory to grab supplies, weapons, horses; merchants rushed hither and thither to protect what they had from looters.

“Halt!” the captain of the guard said before Gaborn got the horses turned. “I put King on horse. Which one ees for him?”