Roald already had the chestnutâs rein in his hand, and his servants were at the fallen manâs side. Jon planted himself solidly in front of Gary, who was going to ride to his father, anyway. âI said , hold formation!â
The big knight glared at his cousin in helpless fury; for a second Alanna was afraid he might hit Jon. The prince ignored the threat, adding softly, âWhat can you do for him that isnât already beingdone? Weâre an army, Sir Gareth; letâs try and act like one!â
For a moment the tension between them held. Then Duke Garethâs son nodded grimly and returned to his place in the ranks of the knights.
Duke Baird, chief of the palace healers, was already beside Garyâs father. Duke Garethâs face was white, and he was biting his lip in obvious pain. Alanna let her hands tighten on the reins until Moonlight fidgeted nervously. She could see the strange angle of Duke Garethâs left leg. When she heard shortly afterward that the Dukeâs leg was broken in three places and that the king would be appointing a new commander-in-chief, her feeling of doom grew. It was all too neat; so neat that she decided to miss the announcement of the new commander and pay a visit to the stables.
Handing Moonlight an apple, she whistled a brief tune. There was a noise in the hayloft, and her old friend Stefan climbed down the ladder, carrying a blanket.
âThought yeâd be by,â the hostler grunted. âYeâve a real nose fer trouble, ainât ye?â
Alanna grinned stiffly at Georgeâs man. âWhat makes you think I didnât come here to cosset my horse?â
âThen why whistle me up?â the potbellied hostler wanted to know. âExcept to chat, which ye do now anâ then. Except now yeâre wonderinâ how Duke Garethâs beast, whatâs gentler even than yer own, happened tâ throw His Grace this morninâ.â
âWell, yes,â Alanna admitted.
Stefan opened the folded blanket. âMayhap Iâm wrong. Anâ then again, mayhap thisâs why.â He showed her a large prickly bur stuck firmly in the blanketâs weave. Alanna worked it loose with difficulty. âTheyâs a cruel scratch in thâ poor beastâs back where it was,â Stefan went on. âAnâ who cinched His Graceâs saddle so loose? They be so many new folk here for thâ army, I donât see all as I should.â
âThen none of the regular hostlers saddled Duke Garethâs horse?â
Stefan shook his head. ââTwas a newcomer. Anâ mayhap he was that afraid for his life when Duke Gareth was throwed, anâ mayhap not; Heâs gone.â
Alanna mulled this over, handing the blanket back to Stefan. âThanks for keeping this for me,â she said finally.
The hostler shrugged. âI knew yeâd be askinâ,â he said frankly. âBest be careful, though. Us of thâ Rogue knows what happens to them as asks toomany questions. By the byâhave ye heard who leads in Duke Garethâs place?â
Alanna shook her head.
âHis Grace, thâ Duke of Conté.â Stefan chewed on a straw, his pale blue eyes fixed on Alanna. âInterestinâ, havinâ a sorcerer-general, eh?â
âVery,â Alanna said dryly, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. She turned to go.
âSquire Alan,â Stefan added, âye might be lookinâ in thâ Lesser Library when ye go back. Yeâve got a visitor.â
Alanna hurried into the palace, the bur pricking her hand. She was surprised to find the Lesser Library occupied by a hooded monk. Getting the news from Stefan, she had expected to find someone very different.
âExcuse me,â she began.
The âmonkâ drew back his hood and held his fingers to his lips, grinning mischievously. With an exasperated noise, Alanna slammed the door and locked it
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