Q: Certainly, to date, I can think of no woman who has been able to resist his advances in that respect.

W: Well then, will you let some part of the Palace Guard arrange for her apprehension, or at least allow it to take place without their interference?

Q:… I see. And what would be my interest in doing so?

W: Your interest? Why, the safety of the King, sir!

Q: Which is of course my first concern, as it is so clearly and creditably yours, dear Duke. Yet without some obviously deleterious action by the woman, it might rather look as though one was acting on no more than your own dislike of her, however well informed.

W: My likes and dislikes are predicated entirely on what is good for the royal house and I would hope that my service over the past many years, indeed decades, has proved that. You care less than nothing for the woman. Are you saying you would object?

Q: You have to see this from my stand-point, dear Walen. While you are all here the responsibility for your safety is formally mine. On this occasion, only a few days after the arrival of the Court at Yvenir, one of its officers was killed unlawfully and his murderer escaped the questioning and punishment that should rightfully have been his. That displeased me greatly, sir, and it was only because the matter was concluded almost as soon as it began, and appeared to be entirely internal to the royal court that I felt no more insulted. Even so, I think Polchiek does not realise how close he came to being brought down a rung or two. And I might add that my Guard Commander still worries that something is being hidden, that the apprentice's death was somehow arranged by somebody who might have benefited from his silence. But in any event, if, after such a murder and suicide, a favourite of the King were to disappear, then it would mean that I would have no choice but to discipline Polchiek with the utmost severity. My honour could be preserved by nothing less, and arguably would still suffer. I would need the most decidedly persuasive proof that the woman meant the King some harm before I could possibly countenance any such action.

W: Hmm. I fancy the only proof you would accept would be the King's corpse, and that alone might prove satisfactory to you.

Q: Duke Walen, I would hope that your wit might devise a way to discover the woman's fraudulent nature long before that could possibly occur.

W: Indeed. And I have just such a commission in hand.

Q: There, you see? And what is your plan?

W: Close to fruition, I hope.

Q: You will not tell me?

W: It is unfortunate that it seems neither of us can indulge the other, Quettil.

Q: Yes, isn't it?

W: I have no more to say, I think.

Q: Very well. Oh, Duke?

W: Sir?

Q: I take it I can rely on the woman not still somehow disappearing while the court rests at Yvenir, can I? If she did, I might have to think most carefully about whether to reveal to the King what you have revealed to me.

W: You gave me your word.

Q: Why, that I did, dear Walen. But I'm sure you would agree that my first loyalty is to the King, not to you. If I judged that the King was being deceived for no persuasive reason, it would be my duty to inform him.

W: I am sorry I have troubled you, sir. It would appear that we have both wasted our time this morning.

Q: Good day, Walen.

This too I found later, not in the Doctor's journal but in some other papers (and have edited it slightly to present a more continuous narrative). The common participant of these two passages is Walen, but — especially given all that happened later — I simply do not know what to make of it. I record. I do not judge. I do not even offer speculation.

The Royal Park of Croughen Hills had been a private game reserve of the royal house of Tassasen for several centuries. UrLeyn had parcelled large parts of it out to various of the nobles who had supported his cause in the war of succession, but reserved the right of the Protector and his court to go hunting in the forests.

The four mounts and their riders circled the tall clump of brush and tangled creeper bush where they reckoned their prey had gone to ground.

RuLeuin took out his sword and leaned down from the saddle, poking at the mass of vegetation. "Are you sure he went in here, brother?"

"Quite certain," UrLeyn said, dipping his face towards his mount's neck and squinting at an opening into the bushes. He lowered himself still further, letting go of the reins with one hand to peer into the undergrowth. DeWar, riding at his side, reached out to hold the reins of UrLeyn's mount. RuLeuin, on the far side of the bushes, also leant down upon the neck of his mount.

"How is the boy today, UrLeyn?" YetAmidous said, voice booming. His big face was red and bright with sweat.

"Oh, he's well," UrLeyn said, levering himself upright again. "Better with every day. Still not strong, though." He glanced round, looking back up the slope beneath the trees. "We need some beaters here…"

"Get your dark man to beat for us," YetAmidous said to UrLeyn, referring to DeWar, "You'll get down and beat for us, won't you, DeWar?"

DeWar smiled thinly. "I only beat out human prey, General YetAmidous."

"Human prey, eh?" YetAmidous said with a hearty laugh. "Those were the days, what?" He slapped his saddle. DeWar's thin smile lasted a little longer.

In the last years of the old Kingdom, when King Beddun had been at his most carelessly cruel, prisoners — or poachers unlucky enough to be caught plying their trade in the forest had provided most of the prey for hunts. That tradition of savagery had been outlawed, but there was one memento of the time present, DeWar thought, in the shape of the old King Beddun's antique hunting crossbow, which UrLeyn carried slung over his back.

UrLeyn, DeWar, YetAmidous and RuLeuin had become separated from the main part of the hunt, 'Which could be heard on the far side of the hill. "Sound your horn, will you, Yet?" UrLeyn said. "Let's get some of the others here."

"Right you are." YetAmidous brought his horn to his lips and let a great blare of sound escape. It almost coincided, DeWar noticed, with the sound of horns coming from the other side of the hill, so probably was not heard. He chose not to say anything. YetAmidous shook some spit from the horn's mouthpiece and looked pleased with himself.

"Is Ralboute joining us, Protector?" he asked. "I thought he was supposed to."

"A message came this morning," UrLeyn said, standing up in the saddle to stare into the clump of bushes. He shielded his eyes as a beam of sunlight fell across his face. "He has been detained at — " He looked at DeWar.

"I believe it is the city of Vynde, sir."

"— Vynde. The city of Vynde is proving more resilient than expected."

RuLeuin stood in the saddle too and directed his gaze at the same place as his brother. "There was talk that we lost a couple of the siege mortars," he said.

"It is only a rumour as yet," UrLeyn said. 'Simalg has rushed ahead as usual and out-distanced his supporting forces. Communication has been erratic. With Simalg, you never know. He may have advanced too fast for his guns, or otherwise misplaced them. Let's not assume the worst."

"I have heard other grumbles, still, Protector," YetAmidous said, undoing the top of a wineskin and taking a quick gulp. "Perhaps we should go to Ladenscion ourselves and take matters in hand." YetAmidous" brows compressed. "I tell you, Protector, I miss making war. And I'd warrant you for one would not misplace siege guns."

"Yes," RuLeuin said. "You ought to take charge of the war yourself, brother."

"I have thought about it," UrLeyn said. He unsheathed his own sword and whacked at the tops of some bushes. "I have been concerned to appear less of a warlord and more of a statesman, and anyway did not reckon the rebellion in Ladenscion merited the full weight of our forces, but I may change my mind if I think the situation demands it. I shall wait for Ralboute's return, or for a message from him. Yet, blow that horn again, would you? I don't think they heard the first time." UrLeyn put away his sword and took off his green hunting cap. He wiped his brow.