Maybe he will die in the four years I am at the academy, he thought. Perhaps when I return I will be the Moidart. The thought saddened him, though he did not know why.
The road swung south, the castle disappearing from sight. Gaise stared out now over the snow-capped mountains, and found himself recalling the words of the woman in his dream. You have no soul-name. What difference could it possibly make?
For the next hour Gaise tried to read. It was a book about the capital and its sites of interest: the White Tower, and the Burning Bridge; the restored Stone amphitheatre, where plays were performed before the king; the Royal Park where red deer roamed; the gardens of Gavaras – twenty-five acres of plants brought from all corners of the known world. Gaise flicked through the pages, trying to concentrate. Every now and again he would look out of the window at the mountains. I shall miss you, he thought. I will miss the land.
The coach entered the woods, keeping to the old Scardyke road. Bored now, Gaise considered climbing to the seat beside the driver and engaging the man in conversation. As he prepared to do so he heard the driver call out, ‘Whoa!’ The coach came to a stop. A rider moved past the window. Curious, Gaise swung open the door and climbed out.
Mulgrave was tethering his chestnut gelding to the rear of the coach. Gaise smiled as he saw him.
‘I thought you had forgotten I was leaving.’
‘Hardly,’ replied the officer. ‘May I travel with you a while, sir?’
‘Of course.’ Gaise returned to the coach. Mulgrave, removing his sword belt, joined him. ‘Why were you not at the castle?’
‘Your father dismissed me from his service late yesterday. Since my main role was as your tutor, and you were leaving for Varingas, he said he had no further use for me. To be honest I had anticipated this. So I wrote to an old friend who had once offered me a position to enquire whether the offer was still good. He wrote back to say that the post was mine whenever I wanted it. So here I am, sir, on my way to Varingas.’
‘That is marvellous news,’ said Gaise happily. ‘We will be able to see each other in the capital.’
‘Indeed so, sir.’
‘Have you been there before?’
‘I served there for two years.’
‘Then you can be my guide. You can show me the wall on the White Tower from which Kaverly dived to freedom.’
‘He dived from the west tower, sir, but, yes, I will be glad to show you the sights.’
‘Ah, but this is excellent, Mulgrave. My day is complete. So, tell me, did you identify the murderer?’
‘Only to my own satisfaction, sir.’
‘Will you share the secret?’
Mulgrave shook his head. ‘Only this far, sir. On the night of the murders a young highlander spoke to me concerning Bindoe. He doubted that Varlish justice would prevail. When I saw that the word justice had been carved into the brows of the murdered men I guessed that this highlander had a part to play in the killings. Just before your father dismissed me I rode out to see Huntsekker.’
Gaise grinned. ‘My father was angry with the old man for failing.’
‘Aye, he was. Huntsekker claimed he was struck from behind and did not see his attackers. This was not true. I rode to the scene and read the tracks. Huntsekker stood for a while talking to the men. The one who died – Seeton – had run to the spot where he died. Several other footprints were close by, three sets made by large men, one by a smaller foot. Huntsekker wears moccasins with no heel. His track was easy to read. The second of the large men wore riding boots. This I took to be Chain Shada. There is no question in my mind that Huntsekker saw the men who killed Seeton.’
‘Why then would he refuse to name them?’ asked Gaise.
‘More importantly, sir, why did they not kill him? Seeton was stabbed through the back, possibly as he was running. Having murdered one man, why not two? Indeed, why not the others, who were merely stunned?’