The horses trotted onward. The haunt handled the reins deftly. Had he learned by watching Simo, or had he some kind of unconscious access to the prince’s physical muscular memory, as in the way he held out his arms so people might wash, and admire, his body?

Now, he said, “Why else would Prince Astaylin send Lord Duenn to spy, hinder, burn hallow-wood, and worse? Why murder a valuable scout and a rare and wondrous griffin? Why would an archon at an isolated lake town take such a bold chance against a prince, knowing the punishment for failure would be death? So you can see, Xilsi, given all this, why a prince like myself would be keen to reach the Vigil in haste, tonight. Especially since we have strong horses who can make one long last run.”

Xilsi frowned. Considered. At length, she bent, making a bow from the saddle. “Your Highness. It shall be as you command.”

63 THE LAST VIGIL

They arrived at Sheep Bladder Halt in midafternoon, having pushed the horses hard all day. Traffic into the Halt was unusually heavy, people arriving from its hinterlands aboard wagons piled with homely goods. They reminded Elen of birds flocking to winter nests, since a Halt was the safest place to hunker down through a cold northern winter.

The very young and excessively flustered provincial magistrate knelt in terror to see a prince. Hands covering his face, he confessed that the Residency had been partitioned into apartments for the winter season. Worse, the imperial suite was shuttered, since no one dared live in rooms meant for a prince. Dust lay so thick on its covered furniture that it was entirely unsuitable even to lay out a passing meal. Only death, he croaked, would be a suitable reward for his dereliction of duty.

“The fault is mine.” He cringed, awaiting punishment.

“We need only change horses, so make haste,” said Simo to the trembling magistrate.

Luviara stood back by the carriage, not speaking, even though speaking was her duty. Elen hadn’t heard a single word from the interlocutor since Pelis Manor North.

The magistrate offered a pair of carriage horses, as well as his personal mount, and the riding horse left by the Pelis messenger a few days earlier, which had not been collected because the messenger had yet to return. The haunt paced as the town was scoured for more horses. Several locals brought mounts to the residency.

Elen had to act as interpreter because none of the heartlanders could understand the local dialect, not even Luviara. Elen slid easily back into the Woodfall Province rhythm and cant.