“You’re the one who’s been following us,” Hugh said.
“It is my duty to be with His Highness, sir.”
Hugh raised a black eyebrow. “Obviously somebody didn’t see it that way.”
“I was mistakenly left behind.” Alfred lowered his gaze, staring fixedly at the floor of the shed. “His Majesty the king flew off so quickly, he undoubtedly overlooked me.”
“And so you followed him-and the boy.”
“Yes, sir. I was almost too late. I had to pack some things I knew the prince would need, which Trian had forgotten. I was forced to saddle my own dragon, and then I had an argument with the palace guards, who didn’t want to let me leave. The king and Trian and the prince had disappeared by the time I was through the gates. I had no idea what to do, but the dragon seemed to have some notion of where it wanted to go and-”
“It would follow its stablemates. Go on.”
“We found them. That is, the dragon found them. Not wanting to presume to thrust myself into their company, I kept a proper distance. Eventually we landed in that dreadful place-”
“The Kir monastery.”
“Yes, I-”
“Could you get back there again if you had to?”
Hugh put the question casually, easily, out of curiosity. Alfred answered, never dreaming his life hung in the balance.
“Why, yes, sir, I think I could. I’ve a good knowledge of the countryside, especially the lands surrounding the castle.” Lifting his gaze, he looked directly at Hugh. “Why do you ask?”
The assassin was tucking the dagger back into his boot. “Because that’s Stephen’s secret hideout you stumbled across. The guards will tell him you followed him. He’ll know you found it-your disappearance clinches it. I wouldn’t give a drop of water for your chances of living to a ripe old age if you went back to court.”
“Merciful Sartan!” Alfred’s face was the color of clay-he might have been wearing a mask of silt. “I didn’t know! I swear, noble sir!” Reaching out, he grasped Hugh’s hand pleadingly. “I’ll forget the way, I promise-”
“I don’t want you to forget it. Who knows, it might come in handy one day.”
“Yes, sir . . .” Alfred hesitated.
“This is Sir Hugh.” Bane introduced them. “He has a black monk walking with him, Alfred.”
Hugh stared at the child in silence. No expression shifted the stone facade of the face except perhaps for a slight narrowing of the dark eyes.
Alfred, flushing red, reached out his hand and smoothed Bane’s golden hair. “What have I told you, Your Highness?” said the chamberlain, gently rebuking. “It is not polite to tell people’s secrets.” He glanced apologetically at Hugh. “You must understand, Sir Hugh. His Highness is a clairvoyant and he has not quite learned how to handle his gift.”
Hugh snorted, rose to his feet, and began to roll up his blanket.
“Please, Sir Hugh, allow me.” Leaping up, Alfred sprang to snatch the blanket from Hugh’s hand. One of the chamberlain’s huge feet obeyed him. The other seemed to think it had received different orders and turned the opposite direction. Alfred stumbled, staggered, and would have pitched headfirst into Hugh had not the assassin caught his arm and shoved him upright.
“Thank you, sir. I’m very clumsy, I’m afraid. Here, I can do that now.” Alfred began struggling with the blanket, which seemed suddenly to have gained a malevolent life of its own. Corners slid through his fingers. He folded one end, only to unfold its opposite. Wrinkles and bumps popped up in the most unlikely places. It was difficult to tell, during the ensuing tussle, who was going to come out on top.
“It’s true about His Highness, sir,” Alfred continued, wrestling furiously with the strip of cloth. “Our past clings to us, especially people who influenced us. His Highness can see them.”
Hugh stepped in, throttled the blanket, and rescued Alfred, who sat back, panting and wiping his high domed forehead.
“I’ll bet he can tell my fortune in the wine lees, too,” Hugh said in a low voice, pitched so that the child wouldn’t hear. “Where would he get that kind of talent? Only wizards beget wizards. Or maybe Stephen’s not really this kid’s father.”