You wish me to look at the future for you, my king? Very well.

He crouched there, in the hallway, squatting the way a beggar might have in spite of his robes of pristine white and gold. He took a pouch from his belt, drawing out what seemed to be a scattering of knucklebones. To Godwins surprise, the sorcerer spat on them, quick and sharp. He threw them onto the floor, the rattle of it filling the space. He then took a knife, pricking at his thumb to let a single bead of blood form. Godwin hadnt been entirely sure that Master Grey possessed blood at all. That bead fell onto the knucklebones.

The sorcerer seemed to stare at them for a long time.

Tell me, Godwin said. Tell me how to find Lenore.

I see what I see, Master Grey said. And I see an ending. A king must fall, and not. He must die so that things might shift.

You mean me, Godwin said. You think Im to die? Tell me who does it. Ill cut him down before he gets close.

The sorcerer smiled thinly. The hand that wields the blade is not the hand to kill you, King Godwin. We do not always die by the hand that we think…

Anger rose up in Godwin then. Damn you, sorcerer, he snapped. You and your prophecies. I ask you for help finding my daughter, and you give me my death.

He strode back in the direction of the courtyard, then turned to call out over his shoulder.

Well, Ill surprise you yet. Ill get Lenore back. Ill beat Ravin. And anyone who comes at me with a blade will eat my steel!

Grey was gone, of course. Only his words remained, ringing in Godwins ears.

Not by the hand you think.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Erin rode hard back toward the Spur, ignoring the pain of the knife wound in her leg. She sat tall in the saddle, chain shirt shining, short spear slung across her back. There were still traces of blood in the short darkness of her hair, because there hadnt been time to truly clean up in the aftermath of their fight against the Quiet Men, not when they needed to carry the news back to the fort.

Sir Til and Sir Fenir rode beside her. Fenir was as quiet as always, graying and brooding beneath thick eyebrows, the clink of his half plate the only sound as he rode. It was more of a surprise that Til was just as quiet, riding forward with a fixed determination, his expression drawn and pale.

You cant still be angry that I charged in back at the village, Erin said. After everything theyd done?

And if theyd killed us, no one would know, Til said. If we didnt make it back, there would still have been Quiet Men there, waiting to strike. Now, hurry your riding. Weve a warning to deliver.