I had understood the bottle only too well. As I had helped him through the stables and up to his loft, we had passed one empty stall after another. Not only horses were missing; prime hunting dogs were gone. I had no heart to go look in the mews; I was sure I would find them likewise plundered. Hands had walked beside us, silent but stricken. His efforts were plain. The stables themselves were immaculate, the remaining horses groomed until they shone. Even the empty stalls were scrubbed and whitewashed. But an empty cupboard, no matter how clean, is no comfort to a starving man. I understood that the stables were Burrich’s treasure and home. He had come back to find both looted.

After I left Burrich, I took a walk down to the barns and pens. Here the best of the breeding stock were wintered over. I found them as depleted as the stables. Prize bulls were gone. Of the curly-backed black sheep that used to fill one pen, there were only six ewes and one runty ram left. I was not as aware of what other stock had once been there, but too many pens and stalls were empty at a time of year when all were usually full.

From the barns, I wandered through the storage houses and outbuildings. Outside of one, some men were loading sacks of grain into a wagon. Two other wagons, already loaded, stood nearby. I stood a bit, watching them, and then offered to help as the wagon’s load grew higher and the sacks harder to load. They accepted my help readily, and we talked as we worked. I waved them a cheery good-bye when the work was done, and walked slowly back to the Keep, wondering why a full warehouse of grain was being loaded onto a barge and sent upriver to Turlake.

I decided I would check on Burrich before going back to my own chambers. I climbed the steps to his chambers and was unsettled to find the door ajar. Fearing some sort of treachery, I pushed in, startling Molly, who was setting out dishes on a small table beside Burrich’s chair. The sight of her there rattled me, and I stared at her. When I turned to Burrich, I found him watching me.

“I thought you were alone,” I said lamely.

Burrich regarded me owlishly. He had made inroads on his bottle of brandy. “I thought I would be,” he said gravely. As ever, he held his spirits well, but Molly was not deceived. Her lips were set in a thin line. She continued with her duties, ignoring me. Instead she spoke to Burrich.

“I shall not disturb you long. Lady Patience sent me to see that you had hot food, for you ate little this morning. I shall be leaving as soon as I have set out his meal.”

“And taking my thanks with you,” Burrich added. His eyes went from me to Molly, sensing the awkwardness, and also her displeasure with him. He attempted an apology. “I have had a harsh journey, mistress, and my injury gives me some pain. I hope I have not given offense.”

“It is not my place to take offense at anything you wish to do, sir,” she replied. She finished setting out the food she had brought. “Is there anything else I can do for you to make you comfortable?” she asked. There was courtesy in her voice, no more than that. She did not look at me at all.

“You could accept my thanks. Not just for the food, but also for the candles that freshened my chamber. I understand they are your handiwork.”

I saw her thaw slightly. “Lady Patience asked me to bring them here. I was happy to oblige her.”

“I see.” The next words he spoke cost him more. “Then please extend my thanks to her. And to Lacey as well, I am sure.”

“I shall. There is nothing more that you need, then? I have errands in Buckkeep Town for Lady Patience. She told me that if there was anything you required from town, I should fetch it for you.”

“Nothing. But it was kind of her to think of it. Thank you.”

“You are welcome, sir.” And Molly, empty basket on her arm, marched out past me as if I were not even there.

Burrich and I were left regarding one another. I glanced after Molly, then tried to put her out of my mind. “It’s not just the stables,” I told him, and briefly reported what I had seen in the barns and warehouses.

“I could have told you a bit of that,” he said gruffly. He looked at the food Molly had brought, then poured himself more brandy. “As we came down the Buck River road there were rumors and tidings. Some said Regal sold the beasts and grain off to fund the defense of the coasts. Others that he sent the breeding stock inland to safer pastures in Tilth.” He drank his brandy down. “The best of the horses are gone. I saw that at a glance when I came back. In ten years, I might breed stock up again to the quality of what we had. But I doubt it.” He poured again. “There’s my life’s work gone, Fitz. A man likes to think he’ll leave his touch on the world somewhere. The horses I had brought together here, the bloodlines I was establishing—gone now, scattered throughout the Six Duchies. Oh, not that they won’t improve anything they’re bred to. But I’ll never see what would have come if I’d been allowed to continue. Steady will be studding rangy Tilth mares, no doubt. And when Ember drops her next foal, whoever rubs it off will think it just another horse. For six generations, I’ve been waiting for just that foal. They’ll take the finest coursing horse that’s ever been foaled and hook it to a plow.”