“I have orders to take that animal. Duke Ram of Tilth wishes him sent up the river immediately.” The man in Tilth colors was breathing through his nose at me.

“He does, does he? And has he cleared that with our stablemaster?” I was sure he had not.

“What goes on here?” This was Hands come running, very pink about the ears and cheeks. On another man it might have looked funny. I knew it meant he was angry.

The Tilth man drew himself up straight. “This man, and one of your stable hands, interfered when we came to get our stock from the stables!” he declared haughtily.

“Cliff isn’t Tilth stock. He was foaled right here at Buckkeep. Six years ago. I was present at the time,” I pointed out.

The man gave me a condescending look. “I was not speaking to you. I was speaking to him.” He jerked a thumb at Hands.

“I have a name, sir,” Hands pointed out coldly. “Hands. I’m acting as stablemaster while Burrich is gone with king-in-waiting Verity. He has a name, too. FitzChivalry. He assists me from time to time. He belongs in my stable. As does my stable boy, and my horse. As to you, if you have a name, I haven’t been told it. I know of no reason why you should be in my stable.”

Burrich had taught Hands well. We exchanged a glance. In accord, we turned our backs and began to go back into the stables.

“I am Lance, a stable man for Duke Ram. That horse was sold to my duke. And not just him. Two spotted mares, and a gelding as well. I have the papers here.”

As we turned back slowly the Tilth man proffered a scroll. My heart lurched at the sight of a blob of red wax with the buck sign mashed into it. It looked real. Hands took it slowly. He gave me a sideways glance, and I moved to stand beside him. He had some letters, but reading was usually a lengthy business for him. Burrich had been working on it with him, but letters did not come easily to him. I looked over his shoulder as he unrolled the scroll and began to study it.

“It’s quite clear,” said the Tilth man. He reached for the scroll. “Shall I read it to you?”

“Don’t bother,” I told him as Hands rerolled the scroll. “What’s written there is as plain as what’s not. Prince Regal has signed it. But Cliff is not his horse. He, and the mares and gelding, are Buckkeep horses. Only the King may sell them.”

“King-in-Waiting Verity is away. Prince Regal acts in his stead now.”

I put a restraining hand on Hands’s shoulder. “King-in-Waiting Verity is indeed away. But King Shrewd is not. Nor is Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken. One of those must sign to sell a horse from Buckkeep stable.”

Lance snatched his scroll back, examined the signature for himself. “Well, Prince Regal’s mark should be good enough for you, with Verity away. After all, everyone knows the old King is not in his right mind most of the time. And Kettricken is, well … not of the family. Really. So, with Verity gone, Regal is—”

“Prince.” I spoke the word crisply. “To say less of him would be treason. As it would be to say he were king. Or queen. When he is not.”

I let the implied threat settle into his mind. I would not directly accuse him of treason, for then he would have to die for it. Not even a pompous ass like Lance deserved to die just for parroting what his master had no doubt spoken aloud. I watched his eyes grow wide.

“I meant nothing….”

“And no harm is done,” I filled in. “As long as you remember one cannot buy a horse from a man who doesn’t own it. And these are Buckkeep horses, owned by the King.”

“Of course,” Lance dithered. “Perhaps this is the wrong paper. I am sure there is a mistake of some kind. I will go back to my master.”

“A wise choice.” Hands spoke softly beside me, taking authority back.

“Well, come along, then,” Lance snapped at his boy and gave the lad a shove. The boy glowered at us as he trailed off after his master. I scarcely blamed him. Lance was the sort who must vent his ill temper somewhere.

“Will they be back, do you think?” Hands asked me quietly.

“Either that, or Regal must give Ram his coin back.”

We silently considered the likelihood of that.

“So. What must I do when they come back?”

“If it’s only Regal’s mark, nothing. If the King or Queen-in-Waiting’s mark is upon it, then you must give him the horses.”

“One of those mares is pregnant!” Hands protested. “Burrich has big plans for the foal. What will he say to me if he comes back and those horses are gone?”