place. The one feeding five thousand people on a few hundred kranas’ worth of flour and beef a day.” Ondraus gave Tamas a shallow smile. “The one that claims he’s a god. Or had this all gone beneath your notice?”
Tamas slowed his mount slightly and waited for the others to do the same. The priestesses, brigadier, and whipper-in went on ahead, unaware. When they were well out of earshot, Tamas said, “He’s a Knacked. Not a god.”
“So you know of him?” Tamas said, resigned. He’d hoped that Charlemund’s gaze had swept over Mihali without noticing. A vain hope indeed.
“Of course,” Charlemund said. “My colleagues in the Church have been apprised of the situation. I received their communiqués just this morning.”
“And?”
“They wish me to take him into Church custody immediately. Before any more of his lies can be spread.”
“He’s harmless,” Tamas said. “He escaped from Hassenbur Asylum. I’m sending him back any day now.” The Church’s involvement was the last thing he needed.
“Who is he?” Ondraus asked.
“Lord of the Golden Chefs,” Tamas said.
“Don’t mock me,” Ondraus said, taken aback.
“He’s not,” Ricard suddenly said. “Lord of the Golden Chefs is a title among culinary experts. It means he’s the best damned cook in all the Nine. I can’t believe he’s really in the city.”
“You know him?” Tamas asked.
“Know of him, more like,” Ricard said. “I paid a king’s ransom to have him cook for Manhouch five years ago. It was that dinner that convinced the king to let me start a union. I’ve never tasted such food.” He gave a low whistle. “His squash soup is to die for. I’d love to see him.”
Tamas stifled a smile at the very thought of Mihali’s squash soup. His mouth watered a little, and for just a moment he could smell it, as if Mihali was making it in a pot in the middle of the next clearing.
“Well,” Charlemund said, “you won’t meet him. I’m bringing him under Church custody tonight. I only held off giving the order this morning in deference to Tamas.”
“And if I don’t let him go?” Tamas said lightly.
Charlemund gave a laugh, as if Tamas had made some kind of joke. “That isn’t an option. The man is a heathen and a blasphemer. We all know there is only one God, Kresimir.”
“Aren’t Adom, Unice, Rosvel, and the rest all supposed to be Kresimir’s brothers and sisters?” Tamas asked. “I’m not up on my church lore as much as I should be…”
“Doctrine, not lore,” Charlemund said. “Semantics. They helped him create the Nine, yes, that is why they are saints. Kresimir is the only God among them. To claim otherwise goes against Church doctrine. It was decided so at the Council of Kezlea in five-oh-seven.”
Ricard’s eyes grew wide. “You do know something about the Church. Incredible! I thought all you needed to be an arch-diocel was a nice hat and a harem.”
Charlemund ignored Ricard as one might ignore an irritating rug seller in the market. “The Council also established that heretics and blasphemers would fall under the jurisdiction of the Church. Every king of the Nine signed the accord.”
“Interesting,” Tamas said, “that Adro has no king anymore.”
Charlemund looked startled by this. “What…?”
“Has it occurred to any of the arch-diocels,” Tamas said, “that Adro is no longer held by any of the agreements signed by previous kings? Technically, we don’t even have to pay tithe anymore.”
Charlemund sputtered. “I don’t think that’s true. I mean, we had an agreement…”
“With Manhouch,” Ondraus said. The reeve had a nasty smile on his face, and Tamas wondered if he had just given Ondraus an excuse to do something that would completely alienate the Church. Tamas squeezed his eyes shut. O Kresimir above. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“I think I’d like to catch up with the rest of the hunt now,” Tamas said before Charlemund could respond. “I can barely hear the hounds.” He urged his hunter on, reaching the whipper-in in a few moments.
Gaben turned. “Sir,” he said, “We’ve fallen significantly behind the rest of the group.”
“Yes,” Tamas said, “I gathered.”
“If you’d permit, sir,” Gaben said, “I’d like to lead us on a shortcut through the forest. I know where they’re planning on being in, oh”—he glanced up at the sun, which was showing through the trees—“two hours. I think we can catch them there. Otherwise we might not reach them until after the hunt has finished.”
“Sir,” Olem said in a low voice, “it’s dangerous to leave the hunt trail. These