‘There was no one else, Lord. The second squad reported that there was another man with the priest when they closed the western doors. From the description it was the Grey Man. He must have walked around to the rear of the palace and scaled the wall to the boy’s room.’
‘That much we already know,’ said Aric. ‘What happened then is what we must find out.’
‘They must have gone to the beach, Lord. The tide was in so they could not have skirted the cliffs. We will find them. It will be light soon. If they are swimming in the bay the boatmen will catch them. Do you wish for them to be taken alive?’
‘No, just kill them. But bring me the heads.’
‘Yes, Lord.’
Aric strode back into the palace. There was a growing stench in the hall, but it faded as he climbed the stairs. Pausing at the top, he looked down, remembering the screams and cries of the dying. The pleasure he experienced had quite surprised him. Thinking back now, he found his previous joy disconcerting. He had never seen himself as a cruel man. As a child he had even hated hunting. It was most puzzling.
Panagyn had mentioned the death of Aldania. Ark paused. He had always liked the Duke’s wife. She had been most kind to him. Why, then, did he feel nothing at her passing? Not the tiniest touch of guilt or regret. You are just tired, he told himself. There is nothing wrong with you.
Aric opened the door to his apartments. It was dark inside. The servants had not lit his lanterns. He was momentarily irritated – until he recalled that the servants had been ordered to leave the hall for Eldicar’s performance. After that, in the chaos that had followed the slaughter, it was not surprising that they had forgotten their duties.
Moving through the main room, he walked to the balcony and stared out once more over the gardens and the distant beach. There were many boats drawn up now on the sand, and he could see the commandeered fishing boats heading back towards their moorings. Obviously the Grey Man and the boy had not chosen to swim the bay. Where, then, were they?
In that moment he heard a whisper of sound from behind. As he turned he saw a dark figure loom out of the shadows. Something glittering and bright flashed for his face. Aric hurled himself backwards. His legs thudded against the balcony balustrade and he toppled over it, striking his head on a jutting stone.
Darkness swamped him.
Aric became aware of the taste of blood in his mouth. He tried to move, but something was pulling at his arm. He opened his eyes. His face was resting against bare earth, his left arm wedged into the branches of a flowering bush. He dragged it clear, and groaned as pain shot through his side. Lying still for a moment he gathered his thoughts.
Someone had been in his room. He had been attacked and had fallen twenty feet from the balcony. The bush had broken his fall, but it felt as if he had snapped a rib. Pushing himself to his knees he saw that blood had stained the earth beneath him. Panicked now, Aric searched for signs of a wound. A drop of blood dripped to his hand. It was coming from his face. Gingerly he lifted his fingers to his jaw. It was wet and sore. He remembered the flashing blade. It had cut him along the jawline from just below the ear all the way to the chin.
With a grunt of pain Aric levered himself to his feet and staggered along the path, emerging at the front of the palace. Two guards were standing nearby. Seeing him, they ran forward and helped him back into the palace.
Within minutes he was in his rooms once more. Eldicar Manushan came to him there and examined his wounds. ‘You have two cracked ribs, and your left wrist is sprained,’ he said.
‘What about my face? Will it be badly scarred?’
‘I shall deal with that presently. What happened?’
‘I was attacked. Here, in this very room.’ Eldicar moved out on to the balcony, then returned. ‘There is a narrow ledge from your balcony to that of the Duke’s son,’ he said. ‘The Grey Man did not flee the palace. He merely climbed along to your apartments and waited for the hunt to die down.’