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their asses for all I care。 Oh； and watch that girth strap on the King's saddle。 It wiggles loose。 Oh； and Death Knell there； put her last in your line。 She kicks。〃
Gaborn handed the lines to the captain； giving him the reins to all four mounts； and turned to leave。
〃Wait！〃 the captain said； as Gaborn suspected he would。
Gaborn craned his neck； sat with a bored expression。
〃You geet King on horse！ Everyone on horse。 I want you personal to geet them down through gates。〃
〃I'm busy！〃 Gaborn objected。 Sometimes the best way to secure a job was to pretend you did not want it。 〃I'm wanting to watch the soldiers leave。〃
〃Now！〃 the captain shouted。
Gaborn shrugged； urged the horses through the portcullis； into the bailey of the Dedicates' Keep； near the huge wain。
No one had yet managed to bring the draft horses to pull the wain； so the wagon merely sat； its axletree lying on the ground。
Gaborn looked into the wagon； tried not to stare too hard at Iome。 He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of a sleeve； then got off his horse； helped Iome mount。 He had no idea whether she could ride； felt relieved when she sat lightly atop her mare； took the reins confidently。
The drooling King was another matter。 His eyes grew frightened and he hooted and grasped the horse's neck with both hands as soon as Gaborn got him saddled； then tried to slide off。 Though the King had once been a fine horseman； he gave no evidence of it now。 Gaborn realized he would； quite literally； have to tie the man to the pommel。
So Gaborn used one of his lead ropes and did just that； wrapping the rope around the King's waist twice； then tying him to the pommel in front； and to the hitches for the saddlebags in the rear。
Gaborn's heart pounded。 He was taking an insane risk： Iome could ride； but the King would pose a definite problem。
Gaborn planned to take the King and Iome through the city gates； then gallop for the woods； where Orden's forces could protect him。 Gaborn hoped that none of the enemy archers would dare shoot the King。 As a vector； he was too valuable to Raj Ahten。
Gaborn most feared that Raj Ahten's forces might lead a mounted pursuit。
Fortunately； the King's horse seemed more intrigued by the King's whooping and grasping antics than frightened。 After Gaborn tied the King securely into his saddle； Sylvarresta became more interested in petting the mount and kissing its neck than in trying to unhorse himself。
Raj Ahten bent over the bloodstained ground； sniffing Gaborn's scent in the birch grove。 On the ridge above stood his counselors and two guards； illuminated by the noon sun。
But here in the shaded forest； Raj Ahten searched alone； as only he could。
〃That's the spot；〃 one of his captains called。
But the ground held only the odor of mold and humus； desiccated leaves。 Ash had rained down from the fires that incinerated the wizard's garden； fouling the scent。 Of course the tang of a soldier's blood filled the air。
The Prince had passed through the herbalist's garden； so that his natural scent lay masked under layers of rosemary； jasmine； grasses； and other rich fragrances。 Raj Ahten's own men had tramped here by the dozens last night； further fouling the trail。
The more he tasted the air； the more elusive the scent seemed。
But none of his hunting dogs could track as well as Raj Ahten did。 So the Wolf Lord knelt in the loam； sniffing tenderly； dismissing some scents； seeking for that which was Gaborn。 He crawled forward； searching for a vestige of Gaborn among the trees。 Perhaps the young man had brushed a vine maple； or touched the bole of an alder。 If he had； his scent would cling to the spot。
Raj Ahten found no scent near the blood； but found something nearly as interesting： the earthy musk of a young woman； a maid who worked the kitchens。 Odd that none of his hunters had mentioned the scent。 It might be nothing； or it might be a woman who acpanied the Prince。
Raj Ahten suddenly stood upright； startled。 A half…dozen finches in a nearby tree took flight at the movement。 Raj Ahten listened to a soft wind blow through the trees。 He recognized the girl's scent； had smelled it
This morning。
He'd passed her on Market Street； just outside the King's Keep。
Raj Ahten had endowments of wit from over a thousand men。 He recalled every beat of his heart； remembered every word ever uttered to him。 He visualized the woman now； at least the back of her head。 A shapely young thing； in a hooded robe。 Her long hair a deep brunette。 She'd been next to a statue of gray stone。 Once again； he felt an odd sensationa peculiar muzziness of thought。
Butno； he suddenly realized。 It could not have been a statue。 The thing had moved。 Yet when he'd passed it； he'd had the impression of stone。
He tried to recall the statue's face； to imagine the thing he'd passed as living flesh。 But he could not see it； could not visualize it。 A statue of a boya faceless； plain…looking lad in a dirty robe。
They'd stood in the streets near where his pyromancer had been murdered。
But wait； Raj Ahten had it nowthe scent。 He recalled their smell。 Held it in his mind。 Yes； it was here in the woods。 And he'd smelled it at the stable。 The young man Raj Ahten had seen at the stable； minutes ago。
Raj Ahten could remember everything he'd seen in years。 Now he tried to dredge up the lad's face； to see him there in the stables。
Instead； he saw the image of a tree： a great tree in the heart of the wood at dusk； so vast that its swaying branches seemed to reach up and capture the stars。
It was so peaceful under that tree； watching it； that Raj Ahten raised his hands； felt the warmth of the starlight touching his own hands； penetrating them。
He longed to be that tree； swaying in the wind。 Unmoved； unmovable。 Nothing more than trunk and roots； reaching deep into the soil； tendrils of root tickled by the passing of countless worms。 Breathing deep。 The birds soaring through his limbs； nesting in the crooks of branches； pecking at grubs and mites that hid in the folds of his bark。
Raj Ahten stood； breath suspended； among the trees of the forest； looking down on his smaller brothers； tasting the wind that meandered slowly above him and through him。 All cares ceasing。 All hopes and aspirations fading。 A tree； so peaceful and still。
Ah； to stand thus forever！
Fire blossomed in his trunk。
Raj Ahten opened his eyes。 One of his flameweavers stood glaring at him； had prodded him with a hot finger。
〃Milord； what are you doing？ You've been standing here for five minutes！〃
Raj Ahten drew a deep breath of surprise； looked at the trees around him； suddenly uneasy。 〃I。。。Gaborn is still here in the city；〃 Raj Ahten said。 Yet he could not describe the boy； could not see his face。 He concentrated； and saw in rapid succession a stone； a lonely mountain； a gorge。
Why can I not see his face？ Raj Ahten wondered。
Then he looked up at the trees around him； and knew。 A small band of trees； narrow along the river。 A finger of the Dunnwood。 But powerful； nonetheless。 〃Set fire to this wood；〃 he told the flameweaver。
Raj Ahten raced for the city gates； hoping he was not too late。
Sweat poured from Gaborn's face