At noon precisely a silence fell over the crowd. The Princess Kettricken alone ascended the central dais. In simple language, she announced to all that she now belonged to the Six Duchies and hoped to serve that land well. She thanked her land for all it had ever done for her, for the food it had grown to feed her, the waters of its snows and rivers, the air of the mountain breezes. She reminded all that she did not change her allegiance due to any lack of love for her land, but rather in the hopes of it benefiting both the lands. All kept silent as she spoke, and as she descended from the dais. And then the merriment resumed.

Rurisk came, seeking me out, to see how I did. I did my best to assure him I was fully recovered, though in truth I longed to be sleeping. The clothing Mistress Hasty had decreed for me was of the latest court fashion and featured highly inconvenient sleeves and tassels that fell into anything I tried to do or eat, and an uncomfortably snug waist. I longed to be out of the press of people, where I could loosen some laces and get rid of the collar, but knew that if I left now, Chade would frown when I reported to him and demand that I somehow know all that had happened while I was absent. Rurisk, I think, sensed my need for a bit of quiet, for he suddenly proposed a stroll out to his kennels. “Let me show you what the addition of some Six Duchies blood a few years back did for my dogs,” he offered.

We left the palace and walked down a short way to a long, low wooden building. The clean air cleared my head and lifted my spirits. Inside, he showed me a pen where a bitch presided over a litter of red pups. They were healthy little creatures, glossy of coat, nipping and tumbling about in the straw. They came readily, totally unafraid of us. “These are of Buckkeep lineage, and will hold to a scent even in a downpour,” he told me proudly. He showed me other breeds as well, including a tiny dog with wiry legs, which, he claimed, would clamber right up a tree after game.

We emerged from his kennels and out into the sun, where an older dog slept lazily on a pile of straw. “Sleep on, old man. You’ve fathered enough pups that you never need hunt again, except you love it so,” Rurisk told him genially. At his master’s voice, the old hound heaved himself to his feet and came to lean affectionately on Rurisk. He looked up at me, and it was Nosy.

I stared at him, and his copper-ore eyes returned the look. I quested softly toward him, and for a moment received only puzzlement. And then a flood of warmth, of affection shared and remembered. There was no doubt that he was Rurisk’s hound now; the intensity of the bond that had been between us was gone. But he offered me back great fondness and warm memories of when we were puppies together. I went down on one knee, and stroked the red coat gone all bristly with the years, and looked into the eyes that were beginning to show the clouding of age. For an instant, with the physical touch, the bond was as it had been. I knew he was enjoying dozing in the sun, but could be persuaded to go hunt with very little trouble. Especially if Rurisk came along. I patted his back and drew away from him. I looked up to find Rurisk regarding me strangely. “I knew him when he was just a puppy,” I told him.

“Burrich sent him to me, in care of a wandering scribe, these many years ago,” Rurisk told me. “He has brought me great pleasure, in company and in hunting.”

“You have done well by him,” I said. We left and strolled back to the palace, but as soon as Rurisk left my side, I went straight to Burrich. As I came up he had just received permission to take the horses outside and into the open air, for even the calmest beast will grow restive in close quarters with many strangers. I could see his dilemma; while he was taking horses out he would be leaving the others untended. He looked up warily as I approached.

“With your leave, I will help you move them,” I offered.

Burrich’s face remained impassive and polite. But before he could open his mouth to speak, a voice behind me said, “I am here to do that, master. You might soil your sleeves, or overly weary yourself working with beasts.” I turned slowly, baffled by the venom in Cob’s voice. I glanced from him to Burrich, but Burrich did not speak. I looked squarely at Burrich.

“Then I will walk alongside you, if I may, for I have something important we must speak of.” My words were deliberately formal. For a moment longer Burrich gazed at me. “Bring the Princess’s mare,” he said at last, “and that bay filly. I will take the grays. Cob, mind the rest for me. I shan’t be long.”

And so I took the mare’s head and the filly’s lead rope and followed Burrich as he edged the horses through the crowd and out of doors. “There is a paddock, this way,” he said, and no more. We walked for a bit in silence. The crowd thinned rapidly once we were away from the palace. The horses’ hooves thudded pleasantly against the earth. We came to the paddock, which fronted on a small barn with a tack room. For a moment or two it almost seemed normal to be working alongside Burrich again. I unsaddled the mare and wiped the nervous sweat from her while he shook out grain into a grain box for them. He came to stand beside me as I finished with the mare. “She’s a beauty,” I said admiringly. “From Lord Ranger’s stock?”