“Perish the thought,” the page answered, and he winked.

  “Enough chit-chat. Tell us already, did they catch him?” Agneth burst out.

  “Ah, no, alas,” Ryhunzo said. “Morneck got away.”

  “Are the horsies all right?” Lanio asked.

  “Yes, they are. Morneck had let me go some distance from the castle, probably guessing there wasn’t much I could do on my own. But he took the horses. He first went to his barracks to collect his stuff and his own horse. He told his barrack mates some story that he had to bring the horses to the prince and to Nulf. Exactly the opposite of what had happened. Both the prince and Nulf ride Cheridonian Fourbloods. These horses are conspicuous. Obe’s not so much, as it is just an old mare, though he seems to like her. Maybe Morneck was planning on using them alternately so as not having to rest too often. However, on the road from Lorseth to the Northern Highway, he encountered a patrol of soldiers. He left the horses with them. He even said he thought he recognized one of them as the prince’s. He had found them tied to a tree. If the soldiers would be kind enough to return them to the castle. He himself was on an urgent mission to deliver a confidential letter. Sorry, he couldn’t be more precise. They understood, didn’t they?”

  “Ha. The cheek that miserable guy has.” Agneth’s lip curled in scorn.

  “The horses were unharmed, as he promised, though. Morneck had only taken them to prevent the news that he was a murderer reaching the castle before he had had a chance to make good his escape. Maybe he realized that the prince would be true to his word and chase him in person to the end of the earth if anything happened to them… or me. That was mighty nice of His Highness, now that I think of it, to value me as much as a Cheridonian Fourblood. Or maybe Morneck found three horses more than he could handle. Perhaps he thought they slowed him down… Who knows?”

  The servant girl put two platters of piping hot chicken wings on the table. Lanio immediately grabbed two, one with each hand.

  “Take one too, friend of Ry,” he said generously to Rahendo, in between tearing meat off the bones with his teeth.

  “I seem to have lost my appetite,” Rahendo politely declined the offer. “A cold, I think.”

  “Was your friend’s name cleared?” Olno inquired.

  “Oh, yes.” Ryhunzo looked at his bandages which were now saturated with chicken fat. “Yesterday was completely devoted to bringing Morneck to justice. Master Tomar Parmingh also prepared a writ and had it copied and sent to all towns and cities, to apprehend Morneck of Miradano wherever he may be found, to confine him, and to send him under heavy guard to Lorseth Castle, there to be judged by the prince-warlord in his capacity as lord governor of the Northern Marches.”

  “Northern Marches?” Olno arched his brows.

  “That’s what the Royal Administration of Ximerion calls the Highlands.”

  “So, eventually they will get him, I trust,” Agneth said.

  “Highly unlikely, since there are reports of someone who fits his description riding toward the border with the Ximerionian heartlands.”

  “Then why go to all that trouble?” Agneth wondered. “Why send orders to arrest him to Dermolhea and Ghiasht in the north if they know he will try crossing the border in the south?”

  “Oh, they would have come far too late anyway, wherever those orders would have been sent. But the writ will be read aloud on the main city squares and nailed to the doors of several prominent public buildings and shrines.” Ryhunzo winked. “You see?”

  “No, I don’t, My Lord Chicken Fingers.”

  “The writ calls for the arrest of Morneck of Miradano for the murder most foul of Iselda the saddler’s daughter, late of Lorseth Market. The name of Miradano will be known all over the Highlands. It automatically wipes out whatever stain may have been cast on Eynurm’s name.”

  “Ah, yes, your friend,” Agneth said. “Now I understand.”

  “All the same, the murderer got away.” Olno spat out a small chicken bone.

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Rahendo said. “Anaxan— His Highness has ordered Master Parmingh to make an extended account of the whole sordid affair. A copy of which will be sent to the Royal Administration in Ormidon. From then on it’s up to them, and there is no predicting how it will turn out, seeing that our prince and His Glorious Majesty, the High King, his father, are at loggerheads.” Rahendo stared at a beam on the ceiling.

  Lanio followed his gaze.

  “What do you see, friend of Ry?” he asked.

  “What? Eh… nothing,” Rahendo mumbled, his thoughts clearly somewhere else.

  “Before we forget,” Ryhunzo said, “the prince and his steward, Master Parmingh, expect the three of you at the castle, tomorrow, early in the afternoon.”

  “Who? Us?” Agneth had become white and shifted on his bench.

  “Yes, you, Olno and Lanio.”

  The other Stray Boys looked in awe at the threesome.

  “Why?”

  “To hear the account of the horrible crimes of Morneck of Miradano, former page of His Highness, Prince Anaxantis, being read to you. You were witnesses to some of the events and you’ll have to testify that what was written down is the truth.”

  “Now, listen here, Ry…” Agneth cleared his throat. “We were happy to help and all, but—”

  “I’m afraid you have no choice, Agneth.” He cocked his head and smiled. “Of course, if you don’t like being given a substantial award for your help and bravery in solving this case, and I mean a substantial award in silver, maybe gold—not copper, mind you—say so. I’m sure I can convince His Highness to skip that part.”

  Agneth and Olno looked at each other.

  “Silver,” Olno gasped. “That could keep us in bread and stew for weeks. Months maybe, depending…”

  “There are some little ones who need warm clothes, what with the winter approaching,” Agneth added.

  “Speaking of clothes,” Ryhunzo said, “we’ve gathered some old things that the three of you could wear tomorrow. They’re in that sack, there.” He pointed casually at the backpack he had put next to his chair on the floor. “And now for your payment. Let’s see, we agreed upon—”

  “Not a single sarth. We will accept not a single sarth from you.” He pointed an accusing finger at the page. “I suspect you more or less extorted this reward from the prince.”

  “Not at all.” Ryhunzo smiled innocently. “He’s a generous person by nature.”

  “Yes,” Rahendo added, “for someone who can be so grumpy and exacting, even mean at times, he can be quite, eh, giving and charitable. From time to time. Occasionally. Sporadically.”

  It was still early in the evening, yet it was already dark when Rahendo and Ryhunzo returned to the castle.

  “Did you notice, Pookie?” Rahendo asked.

  “What?”

  “Some of those Stray Boys are actually girls.”

  “Yeah, I noticed, Guiding Light in my Darkest Hours. After all, I know Londo whom, since she is your sibling, I consider to be my own sister too, though she probably wouldn’t like me calling her that. I thought it wise not to mention that I had recognized some of them as girls. They too can become orphans. Rather clever of them, though. I bet it was Olno’s idea to put them in boys’ clothes. Much safer for them if they have to venture out in the wide, wicked world.”

  “I’m not so sure it’s much safer. Poor guys. And girls. Life can be cruel. In the darkest corner sat a small boy and—as I thought at first—his even smaller friend. It’s more likely they are related. The oldest is barely ten, if that, and his eyes darted constantly over the whole inn. He kept his little brother—if that is what he was—close, as if he were afraid he’d lose him somehow. Not that he needed to worry about that. The little one clung to him as if his life depended upon it.” Rahendo sighed. “It was both endearing and so very sad.”

  “I didn’t notice them, I’m ashamed to admit. Seems the little tyke would be as lost without his big brother as I would be without you.”

  “Oh, Pookie.” Rahendo giggled. “That Lanio boy called me friend of Ry.”

  “I heard. I was so jealous. I would love to be known as friend of Rahendo.” He grinned, full of mischief. “I wish we were in our cozy room already.”

  “Down, boy, down.”

  Ryhunzo growled in mock-protest.

  “I’m glad Nurm is in the clear,” he said.

  “It was nice seeing how happy he was after Anaxantis had completely exonerated him and told him that the real murderer had been found. And after his hangover was completely gone. I wonder if our prince has put enough emphasis on how brave you have been, Pookie.”

  “Well, he called us to tell us personally what measures he had taken to apprehend Morneck and to clear Nurm’s name. He needn’t have done that. And then… I almost thought he was chiding us in some way, but then he got all flattering.”

  “Yes, that was strange,” Rahendo agreed. “Then again, it’s nothing new. The same—but worse—happened after the Battle of the Zinchara.”

  Ryhunzo grinned.

  “Yes, I remember. Boy, was he in a nasty mood then.”

  They walked a while without speaking.

  “You know?” Ryhunzo broke the silence. “I think we should stay friends with Olno and Agneth and the gang. I like them.”

  “They’re going to be a whole lot better off tomorrow than they are now. I talked with Yothan of Birchland who was on duty at the castle this afternoon. He overheard Anaxantis and Tomar arguing over a sum of money and the ownership of some old barn.”

  “The coming winter could be the first the Stray Boys will face without having to fear hunger and cold. Nevertheless, we should regularly check up on them.”

  “You have the cutest bleeding heart, Pookie.”

  “And yet you agree, don’t you, friend of Ry?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Rahendo smiled.

  “I told you, Verial… No bloody battles, no staggering thrones, no gruesome— Well, I suppose the girl’s murder was rather ghastly… Anyway, for the dramatic events that shook nations, you’ll have to visit my old friend Randamor.”

  …

  “I know. I know his demands can be… embarrassing. He seems to have become milder these few last years, though.”

  …

  “Ah, yes, the other girl. Good of you to remind me, Starlight. I almost forgot about her. She kept hidden in the barn, she later told, until she hadn’t heard a human sound for a long, long time. Even then she ventured outside cautiously and, seeing nobody was there, hurried home. Twilight was already falling when she reached Lorseth Market.

  “It was only the following days when news started leaking out gradually of what had transpired, that she realized she had missed seeing the prince whom all the town’s girls considered to be a drop-dead, stunning young man. She never forgave herself for having squandered that unique opportunity.”

  …

  “I thought you’d never ask, Verial. Indeed, what about Morneck of Miradano? Was he eventually brought to justice? No. The answer is no.

  “I heard the story from a friend, who heard it from a passing merchant, who regularly traveled the Northern Highway from Dermolhea, in the north of the province of Amiratha, to Ormidon, the capital in the heartlands of Ximerion. He got it from a local tradesman.

  “It seems Morneck reached Miradano in about three weeks. He didn’t take the Northern Highway, but traveled by small parallel roads. This slowed him down, but at the same time, it prevented him from being recognized. The risk was small, but Morneck was smart enough not to take it.

  “He had changed into his good outfit with a tunic which bore the arms of his House. This also was a calculated risk. On the one hand it made him instantly recognizable as a noble. On the other, there was a small chance someone would have heard of the incidents in far-off Lorseth, and would know who was blamed for the murder—”

  …

  “Yes, he was guilty. Most definitely, but in his own mind the story had already changed into one in which he was the innocent party driven to an unpleasant, though very necessary deed, which was none of his fault. He intended to arrive in Miradano with his story complete and watertight. In fact, it was all he thought about during his journey home. He had repeated it over and over in his mind so many times, it felt more truthful than the truth itself. It may not have been what happened, but it was how things should have gone.”

  …

  “I know, but that is how some people manage to keep living with themselves. Deep down they know the real truth, though, and it keeps gnawing at their very being. They’re never truly happy again.”

  …

  “No, Floryon, you should never wish something like that upon another human being. But, indeed, there was a risk some cutthroat or a gang of robbers would try to assault him. He hadn’t much money in his purse, but his horse and clothes alone represented a small fortune to some people. The inns and taverns on these local roads weren’t to be trusted either. He only visited them by day for a quick meal, preferring to sleep in the woods, wrapped in his cloak, with his sword next to him.

  “After a few days he came to territory where the arms of his House were known and respected, and that gave him at least some protection.

  “Once home, he told his version of the facts—”

  …

  “No, Verial of the Lakes, for some reason only known to himself, Anaxantis had omitted sending a report of the crimes of his son to the Count of Miradano. There was only an official document sent to the Royal Administration, who sent a summary to the high king. His Glorious Majesty had other and more weighty things on his mind and let the Administration, by way of his personal aide, Sir Dennick, know they should act in this matter as they saw fit.”

  …

  “Exactly. They did nothing. Nothing much, anyway. It had all happened far away from the center of power, in the rough Highlands. The purported victim was a commoner girl and the so-called guilty party was the next count of Miradano. Besides, what proof was there? Really? When all was said and done? Not much. Some speculation. Some confessions the clerks of the Royal Administration were sure would be retracted if they ever queried the young lord for his version of the facts. No. Looked at from Ormidon, the case was built on quicksand.”

  …

  “They may have done nothing to see that justice would be done, but the whole unsavory incident was one among many instruments to assure the loyalty of the noble Houses to the Tanahkos dynasty. They let the Count of Miradano know that they kept the case under advisement, but that they saw no reason to think there would be further complications.”

  …

  “Indeed, ‘Toe the line. We have stuff on you which we could chose to use at any time… or never.’ It happens more than you think.”

  …

  “I don’t know much. But once in a while I heard things from traveling friends. The House of Miradano is important in its own region and rumors about the count and his family have always abounded. It seems Morneck settled down and in due time his father arranged a marriage for him.”

  …

  “Of course, with a noble woman. Though, not as prestigious a match as the House of Miradano could have hoped for. Most other major Houses had heard about the bad reputation Morneck had incurred while in the service of Prince Anaxantis. Not that anyone minded in principle, but, on the other hand, allying themselves with someone like him was for most of them a step too far.”

  …

  “That’s the irony of it all, Verial. The old count of Miradano had to give a lot of money to a viscount with a large and eminently noble family tree, a young, rather comely, daughter, a decrepit castle, lots of debt, and nothing else. It seems to me that marrying poor, ambitious Iselda would have been cheaper, even including purchasing a title for her.”

  …

  “Indeed, Floryon, that was the first time they helped solve an important mystery. The prince never said so, but I think it was one of the reasons he later employed them as secret messengers to his mother. After some time he even admitted them into his Clan, his circle of friends. The only ones who were allowed to address him by his given name. Of course, they abused the privilege.”

  …

  “No, not all their cases were as serious as all that. There was this one time a little girl, the daughter of one of the servants working in the castle, asked them to find her cat. They agreed to look out for it. The silly animal returned of its own accord two days later. Nevertheless, the little girl thanked them as if in some mysterious way they had been responsible for the cat returning home.”

  …

  “You heard right, Floryon. There were indeed more substantial cases. In some the Stray Boys played a part, in others not so much. After all, there were certain places orphans couldn’t venture… But enough of all that. So much talking has made me hungry and thirsty. What do you say we fix ourselves something to eat?”

  …

  “Yes, you can come back another day to hear some more of their exploits.”

  From the Author

  Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed Dagger of Deception.

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  Andrew Ashling