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htly； and old wives' tales warned that they were the most potent form of magic。 If that were true； Orden almost pitied Raj Ahten。
Yet； for the moment； nothing happened。 Orden shouted a warning。 〃Binnesman； leave this battle。 You can do nothing more。〃
Binnesman turned up and looked at Orden； and there was such a look of anger there in the wizard's eyes that Orden stepped back a pace。
As if Binnesman； too； suddenly recognized the danger； he turned his mount west； toward the Dunnwood； and fled。
Chapter 45
THE CAVILING CAVALIER
Castle Groverman lay on a shallow； sandy mound on Mangon's Heath； just where Wind River made a slow turn。 It was not the stoutest castle in Heredon； nor the largest； but as Iome rode across the plains that morning； it seemed the most beautiful； with its sprawling grounds； its palatial towers； and its vast gates。 The morning sun shone golden on the heather and on the yellow sandstone of the castle； so it gleamed like something molten。
Iome； her father； Gaborn； and the three Days swept over the heather； racing past herds of half…wild horses and cattle that startled away each time they crossed a line of hills。
Iome knew this place only from maps and tomes and conversations。 Groverman came to her father's castle for the Council of Lords each fall and winter； but she'd never seen his home。 For centuries the lords of Groverman had governed this land； supplying Heredon with force horses and beef。 Iome's father did not keep large stables in his own castlenot like the extensive stables at Groverman。 Here； on the green banks of Wind River； the horses grew fat and frolicked； until the lord's horsemen brought them to the King's stables and introduced the foals to the herd leaders。
The herd leaders were spirited。 A herd leader； once given endowments of strength and metabolism； would dominate any wild horse。 The wild foals were used as Dedicates； for these horses stood most in awe of the herd stallions； and could therefore best be counted on to provide attributes。
Thus Castle Groverman had grown to be an important fortress； for this was the Dedicates' Keep for the horses that supplied Sylvarresta's messengers and soldiers。
But this late in the fall； it was also a busy center for merce。 The local vassals and villeins herded cattle in for the fall slaughter。 Tomorrow was the first day of Hostenfest； a time of celebration before the last of the fall labors。 A week from today； when the feasting ended； the fatted beeves would be driven all across Heredon for slaughter on Tolfest； in the twenty…fifth day of the Month of Leaves； before the winter snows set in。
With the beef came horsemen； driving in the summer's foals。 The fields around Castle Groverman had thus bee a maze of stockyards and tents。
On seeing it； Iome's heart sank。
She'd been outraged to learn that Duke Groverman refused aid to Longmont。 It had seemed a small and evil gesture； not in keeping with the graciousness and courage expected from the lords of Heredon。
But now Iome saw that Groverman might not go to Longmont； with good reason。 Outside the castle； people and animals crowded the groundsthe horsemen and cattlemen； merchants for the festival； refugees from Longmont； plus some refugees who'd left their own unprotected villages。
The refugees from Longmont broke tome's heart。 They huddled on the banks of Wind Riverwomen； babes； men。 For most of them； only blankets slung over poles would shelter them from the snows this winter。 Groverman had generously allowed the refugees to camp near the castle walls； protected from the winds that swept these plains。
Still； it looked as if a town of rags had sprung up by the river； a town inhabited by ragged people。 Silver…haired men puttered aimlessly； as if only waiting for winter so they could freeze。 Women wrapped their babes in thick woolen blankets and kept them tucked under their arms； having nothing better than their bodies and cloth to warm the children。
From the sounds of coughing as she passed through this crowd； it looked as if plagues would soon sweep the camp。
Iome estimated that between refugees； the inhabitants of Castle Groverman； and those who had e for the fair； some thirty thousand people had gathered。 A vast throng； not easily protected。
And Groverman's walls； for some reason； were not as thick with knights as Iome would have expected。 So Groverman must be exerting all his influence to care for his people。
All this Iome saw as she rode past corrals filled with red cattle； through the broad streets。 Everyone stared at Gaborn as he entered the city。 Groverman was not used to entertaining soldiers who wore the livery of the green knight。 The trio of Days who rode behind signaled that this was an important procession； regardless of how ragged Iome and her father looked。
At the castle gate； four guards stopped them。 〃You have another message for milord？〃 one guard asked Gaborn； ignoring Iome and her father。
〃Yes；〃 Gaborn said softly； 〃please tell His Lordship that Prince Gaborn Val Orden begs his audience； and that he has e in pany with King Jas Laren Sylvarresta； and the Princess Iome。〃
The guards gaped at the news； stood staring at Iome's mud…stained robes。 King Sylvarresta did not look kingly； not with his endowments stripped。 In fact； Iome imagined she and her father were the saddest…looking pair on the road。
So Iome tried to sit all the more proudly； high in the saddle。 It cost her dearly； for she could ill bear the stares of the guards。
Behold the horror of your princess； a sad voice whispered in her mind。 She desired to cringe and hide her face； as some Dedicates did after giving glamour。 Yet Iome steeled herself for the guards' inspection； still fighting the power of the rune Raj Ahten's men had branded into her flesh。
The guards studied the three Days who rode； as if to verify his claim。 Two men bumped into each other in their rush to fetch Duke Groverman。
The Duke hurried into the broad courtyard of his estate； his richly embroidered robes flapping in the wind。 Azurite and pearls were bound into the leather trim of his ocher cloak。 His Days hurried behind。
〃Here now！ What's this？ What's going on？〃 Groverman cried； pulling his cloak tighter about his neck。 The morning was growing cold； gray clouds raced in from the south。
He stopped a dozen yards off； gawking back and forth between Gaborn； Iome； and the King。
〃Good morning； sir；〃 Iome said softly； without dismounting； proffering her hand so that he could kiss her ring。 〃Though it has been but four months since last you visited Castle Sylvarresta； I fear much about my appearance has changed。〃
It was understatement； of course。 As for her father； he looked but a shadow of his former self。 Stripped of glamour； his face seemed a worn mockery of the handsome figure he had cut。 Shorn of his brawn； he slumped wearily in his saddle。 Without wit； Lord Sylvarresta gaped about stupidly； enamored of the cattle。
〃Princess Iome？〃 Groverman asked； as if unconvinced。
〃Yes。〃
Groverman stepped forward； took her hand； and unashamedly sniffed it。
Groverman was an odd man。 Some might have called him a Wolf Lord； for he'd taken endowments from dogs； but unlike men