A royal guardsman brought up Grus' gelding. Another, with a perfectly straight face, led up Pterocles' mule – Grus wasn't forcing him up onto horseback now. The king mounted. So did Pterocles. A troop of guardsmen surrounded them. Grus said not a word about it. Menteshe raiding parties could easily break into lands from which the Avornans had driven them the year before. The nomads might not rule all this country anymore, but they could still cause trouble here. The king was glad to have solid protection around him.
Toward the close of day, the armed party rode into one of the first villages of thralls Grus had ever entered. It was different now from what it had been a year before. Most of the stink and most of the filth were gone. What was left was about what he would have found riding into a peasant village on the north bank of the Stura.
The people were different, too. They were people now, and acted like it. Instead of with bovine stares, they greeted Grus with shouts of, "Your Majesty! The gods bless Your Majesty!" They were, if not spotlessly clean, no dirtier than any other peasants would have been. They wore ordinary clothes, not filthy remnants of rags.
They were different in another way, too. A large number of houses in the village stood empty. The plague had hit hard here. From everything Grus had been able to learn, it had hit hard everywhere south of the Stura. That spoke more clearly than anything else Grus had found concerning how the Banished One felt about losing control of the thralls.
"Congratulations," the king told Pterocles. "If not for your spell, none of this would have happened."
Pterocles nodded soberly. "I'm glad I was able to take some of what I went through up in the Chernagor country and use it against… the one who put me through it." Again, he left the Banished One unnamed.
"Yes," Grus said. "That's something I understand, sure enough. Most of the time, from all I've seen, revenge costs more than it's worth. Every once in a while…"
"That's right, Your Majesty. Every once in a while…" The wizard's expression was, for him, uncommonly fierce. But that didn't last long. He looked farther south. The towering Argolid Mountains were still far away, but he – and Grus – could make out their shadowed purple bulk low on the horizon. All at once, something in Pterocles' face went from hunter to hunted. "Of course, we haven't won anything yet. For all we know, we're nothing but fleas waiting for the dog to notice he's got an itch and start scratching."
"There's a cheerful thought!" Grus exclaimed. "And such a jolly way of putting it, too." Pterocles inclined his head as regally as if he were the king. Grus looked toward the mountains, too – and toward Yozgat, which also lay in that direction. Still naming no names, he went on, "Well, if I'm a flea and he's a dog, I aim to bite him someplace where he'll notice me."
"Good, Your Majesty," Pterocles said. "Bite hard."
Lanius studied his slice of city. He drummed the fingers of his right hand against his thigh as he worried. "Last summer, when the architect asked me why I was having him build this, I told him I was making a fancy run for my moncat," he said.
Collurio scratched his nose. "What did he think of that, Your Majesty?"
"That I was out of my mind, I expect," the king answered. "Or that I was mocking him. Or maybe both at once."
The animal trainer laughed. "And there you were, just telling the truth. What better way to put a spike in somebody's wheel?"
"Yes, I remember thinking the same thing at the time," Lanius said. "But I'm more worried than I was that Pouncer's going to be able to get away."
"I don't see what else you could have done," Collurio said. "The insides of the side walls – that sounds funny, doesn't it? – and the front and back are too high for him to jump to the top, and the tile that lines them is glazed too smooth for his claws to get a grip. What can he do? He can't fly, even if it sometimes seems like he's able to."
"I'm not so worried about him flying," Lanius said. "I'm worried about him thinking, and I'm worried about him getting into trouble." His fingers drummed his thigh again. "He's awfully good at getting into trouble. Moncats are troublesome beasts, and he's a troublesome moncat."
"Uh, Your Majesty.." Collurio hesitated.
"Go ahead," Lanius said. "I'm not Pouncer. I don't bite."
"No, indeed, Your Majesty. You've been very kind to me," Collurio said hastily. "I just wanted to say – even if Pouncer should run off, there are other beasts back at the palace. I don't want you to take that wrong, now. I'm not saying it just so you'd go on giving me money. I'm grateful for your bounty – don't get me wrong – but I made a living before, and I can go right on doing it."
"I understand that," Lanius said. "If we have to, we'll do as you say and try another moncat. But I pray to the gods in the heavens we won't have to. Pouncer has.. advantages."
"We've been working with him and not with the others. If we had to train a different moncat, it would cost us some time," Collurio said. "Other than that, I don't see anything all that special about him."
"He has a habit of stealing from the kitchens," Lanius said. "That could turn out to matter quite a bit."
"I can't imagine why," the trainer said with what would have been a distinct sniff if he weren't talking to a king.
Lanius didn't enlighten him. The king usually liked telling other people what he knew- – would he have written a book called How to Be a King for Crex if he hadn't? But Tinamus didn't know why he'd built this slice of city, and Collurio had only guesses about why he'd be running Pouncer through it. As far as Lanius was concerned, the less they knew, the better. What they didn't know, they couldn't talk about. They couldn't write it down, either. And even if the Banished One took them in his terrible hands and squeezed them, they couldn't tell him what he would assuredly want to know.
That probably wouldn't do them any good if the Banished One did lay hold of them. No, it wouldn't do them any good, but it might do the Kingdom of Avornis a great deal.
Collurio asked, "Your Majesty, this has something to do with that, uh, frightening dream I had after I said I'd train your moncat, doesn't it?"
Lanius glared at him in annoyed admiration. Here I keep trying to save you from more danger than you'd know what to do with, and how do you pay me back? You add two and two and get four. Why couldn't you come up with five, or even three?
"I'm going to do you a favor," the king said. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear a word you said."
He wondered whether Collurio would get angry. A lot of men would have. Lanius knew he would have himself; he always wanted to know what was going on. He always had; he was sure he always would. But Collurio only scratched his nose again with a tooth- and claw-scarred hand and nodded thoughtfully. "All right, Your Majesty. That tells me what I need to hear."
"Does it?" Lanius said tonelessly. The less informative he wanted to be, the more informative he seemed to be. Maybe I should have started out telling lies right from the beginning. Too late now, though.
"Don't worry. I told you when I got into this that I don't blab," Collurio said. "I meant it. And if there's a reason Pouncer is the best moncat because he steals from the kitchens – well, then there is, that's all." Now the animal trainer scratched his head, not his nose. "What difference it makes that an animal will steal food when it gets the chance is beyond me, though. Any other moncat in the kitchens would do the same thing."
"You may be right," Lanius said, which, as a polite response, ranked right up there with how interesting. You could say it in reply to almost anything, it sounded accommodating, and it didn't mean a thing.