Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

concerned, we're not supposed to have left the Castle.'
    'It's all been arranged, your highness. The Head of Castle Security is one of us. A group of men who looked sufficiently like us from a distance set out for a little hunting earlier today. They'll disappear into the countryside, and we take their place. Simple, but effective.'
    'Wait a minute. How did they know we'd be here today? Any number of things could have happened to hold us up.'
    'Count Roderik and the Head of Security have an
    understanding,' said Gawaine. 'Don't ask me to explain. It's to do with sorcery, and I've never had much interest in that.'
    Jordan decided to let that pass without comment. 'Any last words of advice, Gawaine? Once we've ridden through the main gates, I'm on.'
    'You're doing fine, your highness. Just remember that you are a Prince of the Realm, and act accordingly. Treat everyone like dirt, expect the best of everything and look scandalised if you don't get it. When in doubt, be offensive and obnoxious. Everyone will expect you to be in a foul temper after an unsuccessful day's hunting, so they'll all make allowances. Lots of them.'
    'I am not playing a villain, I am not playing a villain . . .'
    'I beg your pardon?'
    'Nothing.'
    Jordan's stomach churned with first-night nerves as the horses toiled steadily up Brimstone Hill towards the Castle. He didn't even have the usual comfort of being able to lose himself in running through his lines.
    In the end he fell back on his last resort, and ran through a series of breathing exercises while concentrating very hard on the surrounding scenery. The Hill itself looked surprisingly ordinary, being nothing more than a huge grass-covered mound. For a moment it reminded him uncomfortably of Bloody Bones's barrow, but he refused to let his mind dwell on that. He looked up at the Castle, and his mouth went dry. The stark black walls towered above him, bare and unadorned. Guards watched silently from the battlements, but no flags or pennants flew from the narrow towers. There was something subtly disquieting about the shape of the Castle, a sense of wrongness in its angles and dimensions made even more nightmarish by its very elusiveness, that grated on Jordan's nerves. His horse tossed her head uneasily, and Jordan realised he was holding the reins so tightly that his hands were' aching. He looked away from the Castle, and made himself concentrate on the breathing exercises. Slowly, he began to relax a little. He was the Great Jordan, and this was just another acting engagement. He could do it. He just didn't
    want to. All too soon the party reached the main gates, and the horses waited impatiently as the huge iron portcullis inched into the air amid a squealing of chains and counterweights. Finally it was up, and Roderik urged his horse forward. Jordan swallowed hard, and followed him.
    The courtyard was brightly lit with flaring torches, and grooms and servants came hurrying forward to
    help the party dismount. Jordan started to swing down out of his saddle, and then quickly settled back again as he saw the others hadn't moved yet. He waited patiently while the servants produced wooden blocks and placed them beside the four horses. Gawaine swung out of his saddle and stepped down on to the block, and then on to the courtyard cobbles. Jordan raised a mental eyebrow, and then followed suit. A dismounting block; he'd fallen into the lap of luxury here. He stretched slowly, glad to be out of the saddle at last. He hadn't done so much riding in years, and now he knew why. He massaged his tired back with both hands, and wished he felt unselfconscious enough to do the same to his aching thighs. He sighed heavily, and looked around him. His gaze fell on the dismounting block, and he frowned slightly.
    The others should have warned him about that. Ignorance of such everyday details was just the kind of thing that could show up an imposter. Of course, the others hadn't warned him simply because it was so much a part of their lives that they took it for granted. Jordan scowled unhappily. What else was there he hadn't been told about?
    The grooms took the horses away, and the servants closed in around the newcomers, proffering damp towels with which to clean the dust of travel from their faces and hands. Jordan used his gratefully, and when he was finished he looked around for the servant who'd given it to him. The man had already vanished back into the bustling crowd of servants. Without hesitating,