Heir to the Shadows

returned, nothing would happen. But they would return. Whoever they were, wherever they'd come from, they would return, and one kindred wolf would die and awaken the tangled web.
    The hunters would still get their harvest, would still do the killing and the cutting and the skinning. Only one, confused and frightened, would leave with the bounty, and once he'd returned to wherever he'd come from, then, and only then, would the web release him and show him that the pelts he'd harvested didn't belong to wolf-kind.
    4 / Kaeleer
    Lord Jorval rubbed his hands gleefully. It was almost too good to be true. A scandal of this magnitude could topple anyone, even someone so firmly entrenched as the High Lord.
    Remembering his new responsibilities, Jorval altered his expression to one more suitable to a member of the Dark Council.
    This was a very serious charge, and the stranger with the maimed hands had admitted that he had no evidence except what he'd seen. After what the High Lord had done to the man's hands before dismissing him from service, it was understandable why he refused to stand before the Dark Council and testify against the High Lord in person. Still, something should be done about the girl.
    A strong young Queen, the stranger had said. A Queen who could, with proper guidance, be a great asset to the Realm. All that glorious potential was being twisted by the High Lord's perversions, being forced to submit to ...
    Jorval jerked his thoughts away from those kinds of images.
    The girl needed someone who could advise her and channel that power in the right direction. She needed someone she could depend on. And since she wasn't that young, maybe she needed more than that from her legal guardian. She might even expect, want, that kind of behavior . . .
    But getting the girl away from Saetan would require a delicate touch. And the stranger had warned him about moving too quickly. A Dhemlan Queen could officially protest the High Lord's treatment of the girl, but Jorval didn't know any of them except by name or reputation. No, somehow the Dark Council itself had to be pressured into calling the High Lord to account.
    And they could, couldn't they? After all, the Dark Council had granted the High Lord guardianship, and no one had forgotten what he'd done to gain that guardianship. It wouldn't be unusual for the Council to express concern about the girl's welfare.
    A few words here. A hesitant question there. Strenuous protests that it was only a foul, unsubstantiated rumor. By the time it finally reached Dhemlan and the High Lord, no one would have any idea where the rumor started. Then they would see if even Saetan could withstand the rage of all the Queens in Kaeleer.
    And he, Lord Jorval of Goth, the capital of Little Terreille, would be ready to assume his new and greater responsibilities.
    5 / Kaeleer
    The pushing turned into a shove. "Wake up, SaDiablo."
    Saetan tried to pull the covers over his bare shoulder and pushed his head deeper into the pillows. "Go away."
    A fist punched his shoulder.
    Snarling, he braced himself on one elbow as Andulvar tossed a pair of trousers and a dressing robe onto the bed.
    "Hurry," Andulvar said. "Before it's gone."
    Before what was gone?
    Rubbing his eyes, Saetan wondered if he might be allowed to splash some water on his face to wake up, but he had the distinct impression that if he didn't dress quickly, Andulvar would drag him through the corridors wearing nothing but his skin.
    "The sun's up," Saetan muttered as he pulled on his clothes. "You should have retired by now."
    "You were the one who pointed out that Jaenelle's presence has altered the Hall so that demons aren't affected by daylight as long as we stay inside," Andulvar said as he led Saetan through the corridors.
    "That's the last time I tell you anything," Saetan growled.
    When they reached a second floor room at the front of the Hall, Andulvar cautiously parted the drapes. "Stop grumbling and look."
    Giving his eyes a final rub, Saetan braced one hand against the window frame and peered through the opening in the drapes.
    Early morning. Clear, sunny. The gravel drive was partially raked. The landing web was swept. But the work looked interrupted, as if something had caused the outdoor staff to withdraw. They were still outside, and he picked up their excitement despite their shields. It was as if they were trying, almost hopefully, to go undetected.
    Frowning, Saetan looked toward the left and saw a white stallion