"I hope you are spared from ever feeling the agony of such a betrayal, my friend, even though you've done it to me today."

Hanadan barely restrained the impulse to roll his eyes at Karuss's unnecessarily dramatic proclamation. They were standing beneath the eaves close to the back of the hunting lodge while still keeping part of the terrace in sight. The elderly guests were standing up reluctantly, allowing the servants to arrange the most comfortable chairs around two impressively large tables. It seemed that Eker still maintained enough common sense to recognize that he might just get away with depriving them of a proper hunt, but breaking with the tradition of the game feast would have seen him stabbed in the back - or even the front - faster than his yellow chickens could scurry away. He'd therefore arranged for the cooks to prepare appropriate dishes and serve them to his bewildered guests before they could properly start to plot against him.

However, this was as far as the sensible part of Eker's plan went; the rest was an ongoing nightmare in which Hanadan would have to bear the brunt of the consequences, not the least of which was Karuss's supreme dissatisfaction.

"You're free to withdraw from the competition," he replied levelly. "Just say I wouldn't let anyone else guard me since I'm now an interim-Councilor, and there's your excuse."

"I don't want excuses," said Karuss, scowling fiercely. "It'd make me look like a coward."

For a second, it sounded as if he'd wanted to say "chicken" instead, but Hanadan quickly stilled the quivering of his lips and wisely decided not to bring up that particular species of fowl any time soon. He'd also try steering clear of eating it for the foreseeable future.

"It makes you sound like an honorable man fulfilling his duty."

"I'm the reigning champion."

"Of the original hunt, yes. I'm not sure whether the new title would prove as appealing, given the nature of the prey and the fact that you'd have to share it with your teammates. Also, if the king intends to begin a tradition, you might just be remembered as the last real champion. Do you want to alter that legacy?"

Hanadan knew he made reasonable points, but he could still see the hurt lingering in the other man's eyes.

"I'll tell you what," he continued. "After a queen is chosen and he gets to actually have some proper authority, I'll personally oversee the wildlife conservation act and the repopulation of Tzeru with proper game."

"You'd better," mumbled Karuss. While he didn't appear entirely mollified, he did relax somewhat, leaning against the lodge's outer wall and crossing his arms. "You should also see that there are no more bloody chickens left. Who gave him this laughable idea anyway?"

"You should know by now that he's more than capable of coming up with them entirely on his own."

Karuss grunted his assent and shifted uncomfortably as a wooden beam began poking him in the shoulder.

"We still need someone to take part, though," mused Hanadan. "My father would certainly complain if the venerable Jebril estate didn't send some representatives." He continued to glance meaningfully back at Karuss, who signed in resignation.

"I'll have the men draw lots. Attira knows, they'll hate me for it. And you as well."

"Just as long as they don't hate the king."

"It's a bit difficult to hate someone like him. Dismiss, ignore, find somewhat annoying, sure. But hate?" Karuss shook his head. "The previous king, on the other hand..."

Hanadan barely suppressed a shudder. The infamously corrupt reign of Jurhem III had seen Heddam Jebril's criminal empire expand beyond his wildest dream, to the patriarch's immense satisfaction and Hanadan's boundless despair. Now, given that both men were gone, he and Eker had been handed the best chance they could have asked for to right the course of Kassinem and their ill-reputed families. If they blew it, they'd have no one else to blame but themselves.

Groaning, Karuss peeled himself away from the wall and dusted off his tunic.

"I'll gather them now. They won't have much time to look for teammates, but maybe that's for the best."

He turned away and started trudging back towards the terrace.

"Don't forget the team names!" cried Hanadan, receiving a rude gesture behind the bodyguard's back for his trouble.

Hanadan's subsequent grin died almost at once, as he recognized the pair of men skirting the terrace and approaching him. Cold dread pooled in his stomach and he swallowed against a suddenly dry throat, hands impulsively reaching for the sloshing gourds at his side.

With the house at his back, the terrace to the left and forest to the right, there was no way for him to avoid them short of diving behind a row of elderberry bushes and cowering in fear. A split-second remained for him to make that choice, but his pride stubbornly glued his feet to the spot, unwilling to let him embarrass himself like that. If he had any hope of following in Heddam's footsteps - only this time, in the infinitely more difficult position of a law-abiding citizen - he had to drive away the influence of his family. Uncle Ossar's warning from the previous night rang hollowly in Hanadan's mind, who couldn't help but wonder whether he'd done enough to protect the king.

"Nephew!" boomed Merith, opening his beefy arms in one of the worst attempts at cheerfulness Hanadan had ever witnessed. If that weren't enough, Dremen immediately followed his father-in-law's lead with a thundered "Cousin!", as well as a grimace more closely resembling a death mask than a genuine smile.

Despite the fact that they didn't appear to have the slightest interest in actually taking part in the hunt, they were curiously well-equipped, boasting leather armor, breastplates, gauntlets and proper footwear, with only their weapons conspicuously absent. If this was their attempt at a subtle coup, Hanadan was loath to be introduced to their straightforward approach.

He paused before returning their so-called smiles, the thought dawning on him that it might have been them after all who'd sent those inept assassins to track down and eliminate Eker while he was stuck in a wardrobe. And even then, they'd failed miserably.

"Uncle, Cousin, I looked everywhere for you this morning," confessed Hanadan. "I thought we might depart for the hunt together."

Dremen cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"We... we didn't want to disturb your preparations." He eyed Merith nervously, then added: "For the hunt, that is."

Merith looked like he wanted to elbow some sense into his son-in-law's excuses, but managed to restrain himself.

"We weren't even sure we were coming," he said. "Until the very last moment, when we made the decision. Naturally, we will not occupy an active role in today's proceedings."

Naturally. Hanadan fought to keep his stance as relaxed as possible, making them believe they might actually have a chance to fool him. Of course, the bolstered-up ranks of bodyguards currently looming by the terrace with the express order of protecting Eker at all costs might belie his trust in their pretensions, but for some reason, the pair seemed genuinely unbothered. This might have been either because they hadn't paid attention or...

Hanadan found it far more difficult to hold back his shivering this time around. Could it be that the idiots were far better prepared, while he hadn't brought enough men?

"Unlike you, surely," continued Merith. "Pray tell, what team name have you chosen?"

"It should come as no surprise, Uncle, that I am not participating in the hunt."

"What?" cried Merith and Dremen at the same time, thick eyebrows shooting up to their unkempt hairlines.

"But you must!" protested Dremen.

"After all your friend the king has gone through to make them more accessible to everyone," said Merith, still playing at disbelief. "Alas, Dremen and I are ill-suited to run after such a challenging quarry. Unlike you, who are perfectly built for this sort of undertaking."

"And weak enough for either of you to break in half with one arm tied behind your back - probably the one holding the backstabbing dagger," thought Hanadan bitterly, but out loud he made an entirely different observation. "I appreciate the king's concern for the local fauna, and I do support him in his endeavor to make hunting a more sustainable activity. In fact, if his plans prove to be successful, we might see a normal hunt take place here again. Wouldn't you like to participate then?"

Dremen pursed his lips in thought, then shrugged dismissively.

"I'm not sure," he said. "After participating so many times, the edge seems to have dulled. There's no thrill, no danger anymore."

If Hanadan's memory served, both Merith and Dremen had come close to winning Victor's Cup on a number of occasions, including the previous year. But then Karuss had come along on his first attempt, and snatched the trophy away. And as for the sense of danger fading away...

Hanadan breathed in sharply while strategically widening his eyes in the direction of the terrace, then plastered his back against the house's outer wall, holding on white-knuckled to the jutting oak beams.

The others quickly turned around, scanning their surroundings for the perceived threat. When nothing revealed itself, they returned to stare questioningly back at Hanadan.

"Forgive me," he muttered, wiping imaginary perspiration from his brow. "For a moment there, I thought I saw a very thin old man staring daggers at us."

Had that been too much? Hanadan saw their polite composure dissolve in favor of cold-eyed determination. Merith's lips drew together into a tight line, while Dremen tried cracking his knuckles against his jaw, steel gauntlets notwithstanding. Did they have a valid reason for fearing Sebek as much as they did? Had Hanadan gambled and lost when he'd forced Priar to guard his friend?

No, this was not the time for self-doubt. Hanadan knew he was plagued by it constantly, but today he'd really have to believe he could make his vision work or else his enemies would sense his weakness and tear him and everyone he cared for into pieces.

"Hateful thin old men are a staple of fairy tales," said Merith. "We shouldn't dismiss such an evil omen out of hand. What do you say?"

He turned towards his scowling son-in-law.

"What do you say?" he repeated.

Dremen nodded with conviction.

"Let's do a perimeter search," he suggested. "Make sure everything's safe."

"And if we do catch a chicken," whispered Merith conspiratorially, leaning in close enough for Hanadan to accurately deduce the man's breakfast contents, "we'll make sure to send it your way."

Their parting smiles were even worse than the ones they'd welcomed him with, and so Hanadan could now say for certain that they were up to something. He watched them step onto the narrow trail leading through a short patch of woodland to the auxiliary buildings in the second, smaller clearing. Hanadan was well aware of the general layout of the Tzeru estate and was now frantically thinking of places where the two might have hidden their troops. However, he soon had to recognize the futility of the endeavor, given that they were practically at the heart of a forest where more than just chickens could roam, and so the only chance he had of tracking down the danger was the old-fashioned direct approach.

He quickly picked up one of the gourds and took a few heartening gulps. Just as he was about to replace the stopper, his ever-vigilant ears picked up on a muffled noise behind the very elderberry bush he'd considered for a hiding spot. He frowned, quickly weighing the risk of investigating, but Merith and Dremen were just now disappearing in the thick of the forest and if they happened to step off the path before reaching the clearing, he was going to miss them. Biting back an angry curse, he started following the pair.

***

Ederra clamped her fingers down on her nostrils while her other hand covered her mouth in her attempt to fight the worst urge to sneeze she'd ever felt. The tight spot, perfectly concealed between a tall shrub and the back of the hunting lodge, had seemed like an ideal place to stop and snoop, but she'd only noticed the telling layer of feathers on the grass and the thin down still floating in the air when it was too late to choose another.

As Hanadan started to walk away, she carefully leaned forward and peeked between the scratchy twigs. He was heading directly for the forest.

Judging that her respiratory system had stabilized for the moment, she withdrew her hands and carefully stepped around the bush. She then leaned against the back of the house, watching Hanadan's coat flutter one last time before the trees closed in on him.

She closed her eyes for a brief second's reprieve, took another deep breath, then stepped forward as well.