Tamas and Olem found their mounts and headed out to the kennels, where the official hunt would begin. A chalk line had been dusted on the trimmed grass spanning an entire field. Hundreds of men and women sat atop their hunters. Some held their hounds on leashes, others by command alone, while a number of the wealthier participants had kennelmasters on foot beside them.
Tamas took a place at one end of the line. There were more people out here than he expected, and a far greater number of hounds. “She really meant it when she said she had invited everyone. Half these people aren’t even wearing hunt colors.” He bit back a comment. It was a damned time to complain. It would still be fine colors and nobility if it weren’t for him.
“Aye,” Olem said. “I’m glad there’s anyone here at all. Would be a sad start to the festival without a hunt.”
“Did Lady Winceslav pay you to say that?” Tamas said. Olem was a soldier, risen from the peasantry to his current position. He had no attachment to the hunt.
Olem looked surprised. “No, sir.” He flicked the end of his cigarette into the grass and immediately began rolling another.
“I’m joking, Olem.” Tamas glanced about, grimacing at the sight of a peasant on a mangy-looking mare with two hounds and an off-red coat that didn’t come close to hunt colors.
In a few minutes’ time the horn was blown and the hounds were off. Tamas began at a slow canter, watching Hrusch fly off ahead of the rest of the animals in the direction of the scent. It wasn’t long before the dogs disappeared into the woods. Tamas urged himself ahead of the rest of the riders until he reached the woods, then slacked off and let himself be passed. He closed his eyes, listening to the softening bays of the hounds, the sound soothing to his ears.
He opened his eyes after some time to find himself alone with Olem. The bodyguard’s hunter trotted along beside Tamas’s. Olem’s eyes scanned the surrounding brush with the vigil of a hawk.
“Do you ever relax?” Tamas asked.
“Not since the Warden, sir.”
Tamas could see horses up ahead, and hear others behind them. The huntsmen had begun to spread out in order to enjoy themselves while the hounds ran themselves to exhaustion. The sport would last all day, either until one of the hounds caught up with the volunteer dragging the scent or until they reached the end point of the race. Last year, Pitlaugh had found the volunteer halfway through the day, earning the ire of Adro’s nobility for cutting short their hunt, and earning himself a flank of steer from Tamas.
Tamas brushed off memories of past hunts and turned to Olem. “It wasn’t your fault. They’ll send more Wardens at me. You’ll do little against one of them.”
Olem rested one hand lightly on his pistol. “Don’t write me off so quickly, sir. I can cause more damage than you’d guess.”
“Of course,” Tamas said gently. He felt more relaxed than he had in, well, it seemed like years. He let his mind wander, enjoying the cool breeze through the trees and the periodic splash of warm sun on his face. It was a perfect, blue-sky day for the Orchard Valley Hunt.
“A question, sir.” Olem’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“If it has to do with the Kez, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I was wondering what you’ll do with Mihali, sir?”
Tamas stirred himself out of his reverie and gave Olem’s back an annoyed glance as the soldier searched the woods with his eyes. “I think I’m sending him back to Hassenbur,” Tamas said.
Olem gave Tamas a sharp look.
Tamas said, “Not you, too? I’d expect the common soldiers to grow attached, but not you.”
“I am a common soldier, sir. But you stated his worth yourself,” Olem said. “Creating food from thin air.”
“I risk angering Claremonte. The asylum’s patron is not a man to be trifled with, not with his position with the Brudania-Gurla Trading Company. I risk our entire supply of saltpeter. At this point in the war, gunpowder is more important than food.”
“And later?” Olem asked.
“Mihali is a madman, Olem. He belongs in an asylum.” He chose his words carefully. “It would be a cruelty to let him live like a normal man.” He knew the words made sense in his head, but when he spoke them out loud, they seemed wrong. He frowned. “They can help him at the asylum.