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cruel one, for although he was not Trelath's cohort, he knew well of the Prince's penchant for confiscating valuables from lesser lords. The harshness of the King's voice had sent a spasm of unease through him, however. His monarch's gaunt, strained visage was set in grim lines that boded ill for any who did not obey him now. The royal figure dwindled, a desert eagle drifting down to perch upon Kerrion's shoulder. Ortane noted that the troops who accompanied the King were his best, usually kept at the palace to guard royal persons.
    Ten rode with great sand cats loping beside their mounts, an unusual number and all doubtless officers, for those with powerful or dangerous familiars rose quickly through the ranks. Behind them were twenty who seemed to have no beast kin, but that was because they each rode a stallion that would kill to protect them. A further thirty had eagles or hawks perched on their shoulders or wrists, and behind them, perhaps most forbidding of all, were at least a hundred dog soldiers. The huge war dogs stood thigh-high, and, once unleashed, were apt to go into a blood frenzy and tear their enemies apart.
    During the war with Jashimari, Ortane had witnessed their fury loosed upon an unsuspecting Jashimari village. The result had been revolting, and he had reprimanded the troops' commander afterwards, who had assured him that the dogs needed sport. Ortane had been glad when the war ended. He had not enjoyed his stint in the army, and preferred a peaceful existence on his estate. He sighed and glanced at the sky, where somewhere his falcon flew to hunt. If the King found the culprit who had kidnapped his wife, Ortane did not doubt that the dogs of war would find sport once more.
     
    Kerrion gazed across the hot golden sands with narrowed eyes. The sun burnt down upon his armour, turning it into an oven, and his sweat-soaked clothes chafed him. For three tendays he had scoured the holds around Jadaya. His troops had searched every oasis and village, every keep, harem and watering hole without finding so much as a clue. Trelath had planned the kidnap well, and Minna-Satu had vanished like water into the sand. So had Trelath and Chaymin, one of his brothers. Shista had vanished with the Queen, before anyone had noticed her absence and could saddle a horse and follow her. The trackers had lost her trail in the stones of a dry creek bed.
    Shista would find Minna, and perhaps keep her from harm, but if Trelath chose, he could easily kill the sand cat too. Kerrion had been forced to lie to his sons, unwilling to burden them with the truth. He had told them that Minna had been taken ill and sent to a place of healing, but that she would recover. For the first time in many years, he found himself wishing that the Jashimari assassin was here. Although he could not forget Blade, and had been saddened to learn that the assassin had vanished after slaying Armin and saving Kerra, he had not wished for his return until now.
    Kerra's disappearance would put Minna in great danger, but Trelath knew that if he killed her, he would lose all hope of forcing Kerrion to do anything. Torture was well within his abilities, however, and Kerrion dreaded the thought of Minna suffering. He could strike back with cruelties of his own, if he could bear the burden of guilt that would come of it. Trelath had a mother, several wives, sisters and daughters, all of whom could be executed without raising a judge's eyebrow, for they were only women.
    Trelath would not care, however, so Kerrion must strike at his sons. Killing a prince's son was a grave crime indeed, but Kerrion could weather the storm if he must. The thought of putting innocents to the sword, even a traitor's spawn, brought a bad taste to his mouth, however. There were other ways, there must be. He had been searching for three tendays now. Perhaps it was time to return to Jadaya and find out if there had been any word from the many other search parties he had sent out. Perhaps a