A group of guards came out onto the beach where Drift's dress had burned. Their leader, his light step, dark clothing, and lack of weapons marking him as a tracker, held up a hand to keep the others back. After a moment, he bent over and retrieved a singed scrap of lacy cloth, which he slipped into his pocket. Then he examined the prints in the sand. Human footprints were overlaid by those of a large bird of prey. The river had washed out some of the prints. He turned to the other men. "It's almost nightfall," he said, "and we've lost her. She may have taken a boat, or swum. We'll go back and make our report now."

"He won't be happy you lost her trail," one of the men muttered.

"True, but he doesn't have enough trackers to take his anger out on us. Guards, though." The man's keen stare swept around the group. "He's got plenty of those, doesn't he?"

*

Far to the northeast, where the hillsides are windswept and trees fight for ground amongst rocky outcroppings, a pair of guards was posted in front of the rusted iron doors of the largest of the buildings at Vultan's Keep. They were leaning heavily on their spears when a big vulture soared overhead, but they came to attention abruptly at the sight of it.

The vulture circled around the dusk-filled terrace and swooped in for a landing. With a puff of sulfurous smoke, a tall, bone-thin, black-cloaked man appeared. His long white hair and beard dominated his gaunt figure and bony face. Except for the eyes, which were too fierce to be dominated by anything. It was Vultan.

Vultan ignored the guards and turned toward the valley to watch a large, dark falcon approach. It swept overhead, sliced a tight circle, and came in for a landing beside him, shifting to a tall man with dark hair and beard just beginning to be salted with white. His skin was a shade livelier than Vultan's, but he had the same sunken eyes and hollow cheeks. They stood side by side, gazing into the distance.

Vultan broke the silence with a voice like gravel. "You fly as a Peregrine this evening, Magus."

"I didn't want to be late for our meeting. Falcons are faster than vultures."

"Your falcon is also the stronger hunter," Vultan said.

"Ah. Who do you wish me to hunt?"

"Someone who poses the greatest threat I've faced since I defeated the royal family a dozen years ago."

"Sixteen years now, isn't it?" Magus corrected.

"I'm being approximate. Watch yourself!"

Magus bowed.

"If the girl comes of age, the prophecy could come to pass, and that is something I don't—"

"But we rounded up any number of babies back when we took the Palace," Magus interrupted. "Surely we got the Princess already, assuming there even was one. I've always doubted...argg—" Magus's eyes widened and he held his neck.

Vultan was fingering his staff "Breathing is a necessary concession to the frailty of the human body," he said. "Wouldn't you agree?" He relaxed his grip, and Magus took a rattling breath. "That is what happens when you interrupt me."

"It was careless of me," Magus gasped, rubbing his neck.

Vultan eyed him. "You are not indispensable. I can tolerate a little of insubordination, but not a lot. Do keep that in mind."

Magus nodded. "Yes, Father."

"And don't call me that!"

"Of course, Master. It won't happen again."

"No it won't," Vultan agreed, eyeing Magus with distaste. "Now, about the hunt. There is a girl out there." He pointed a bony finger toward the southeast. "Get her."

"I'll start another search, but may I ask a question first?"

Vultan shrugged.

"Of course we all thought that the Queen had died when we took the Palace, but since it turns out that—"

"Tell me something I don't know. And keep your voice down."

"Well, yes, anyway, since you discovered she was in hiding, and—"

"I know that!"

"It would go more quickly if I were able to complete a sentence, Master."

"Then get on with it!"

"Since the Queen has been your secret captive for several years, don't you think you would have gotten it out of her by now if she'd given birth to a daughter?" Magus spoke these words in haste, not wanting to be interrupted, and did not make any attempt to keep his voice low.

"You don't seem very concerned with keeping her captivity secret," Vultan growled. He turned and examined the guards, who were staring, open-mouthed. They exchanged alarmed looks, then took off at a run. A clap of thunder laid them out motionless on the stone terrace. "That was careless. You are trying my patience sorely today, Magus. And forcing me to waste my guards."

"I did not think."

"People don't. That is one of the many reasons I am in charge. Where were we?"

"The Queen, my Master. Has she not been able to confirm the rumors?"

Vultan frowned. "She continues to insist that she did not give birth to a daughter, even when under my most powerful veritas necessarius spell."

"Then why do you continue worry?" Magus asked. "I mean, if she truly did not give birth to one." He shrugged dismissively.

"She also claims she did not give birth to a boy, and yet, there is that Searcher you so incompetently lost control of, Magus."

"I didn't lose... Wait, the Queen says she doesn't have a son? And you did the truth-telling spell correctly? Of course you did," Magus added quickly. "No need to cut off my air supply again, Father."

"Then watch what you say!" Vultan glared at him, then turned to study the darkening horizon. "The problem is not with the truth spell. It is more likely that we have not asked the correct question yet. I shall continue to interrogate the Queen until I extract the truth." His gaze swung back to Magus. "In the meantime, you shall track down a songbird."

"A what?"

"Yesterday I had a vision of a songbird hatching from a golden egg and beginning to sing."

"A, a songbird?"

"A goldfinch. My visions often take me into the Spirit Realm, where there are numerous signs and omens."

"You don't mean I should literally kill some little bird?" Magus seemed mystified.

"Of course not! The egg signifies the magic of the royal family, which is gold in color. The egg has hatched, meaning that the girl is out of hiding and will be easier to find. You are to find this fledgling before she finds her voice."

"If there actually is a princess, then could she be hiding in the mountains? We've searched the valley so often."

"No! The egg hatched in a hedge south of the Palace. You would have noticed if you'd been patrolling the area. I moved a company of guards from my Keep down to the valley to help in the search."

"An egg in a hedge..." Magus frowned. "There's an old enclosed garden with an egg-shaped—"

"It's too late to find her there."

"So it wasn't just a vision? You actually spotted a likely girl?"

"You lack subtlety, Magus, along with many other qualities. I saw her in a vision, as I already told you. When I flew to where the vision had revealed her to be, she was gone. My men picked up her trail later that day and tracked her to the river bank. They brought me this." He extracted a bit of cloth from a pocket and held it up.

Magus looked puzzled.

"Only someone with ties to the Palace would have old scraps of the Queen's lace," Vultan explained. "Find this girl!"

"I will look, but I don't see why you had to send your guards down. My guards could have taken care of—"

"They are all my guards!"

"Yes, Master. Of course." Magus thought for a moment. "If you're right about her surviving, then someone must be hiding her."

"I'm always right," Vultan snapped.

"Which means it's a matter of figuring out who would have been clever enough to hide her under our noses all along." Magus stared out at the valley for a long moment, then smiled.

Vultan looked surprised. "Don't tell me you've actually thought of something."

"Most of the witches are hiding in The Garden, but there's one who lives south of town. She used to be a gardener for the Queen. I've left her alone because she tends to people's ailments and keeps things in balance in the valley. However, lately I come to think that she's more clever than she appears."

"Why?" Vultan demanded.

"Her cottage is strangely difficult to find."

"Wardspells?" Vultan asked with a frown.

"Yes. Strong ones. But by I happened to fly over her farmyard the other day when I was patrolling my territory, and—"

"My territory! You are nothing more than my proxy. Don't forget that."

"Sorry. As I flew over, I saw the witch's grandson.

"We are looking for a girl."

"Yes, but the boy appears to be the correct age, and if the woman worked at the Palace, odds are she was Fena trained."

"And Fena don't have children," Vultan added, "or grandchildren."

"Not usually," Magus agreed, "which makes the story about a grandchild rather suspicious. And as I flew over, the witch set a concealment on him. It was a strong one, too. Shortly afterward, I sensed a strong summoning from that area, too."

"Wardspells, concealments, summonings." Vultan frowned. "She's a lot more knowledgable than your average hedge witch," he agreed. "And I suppose the child might be in disguise. Look into it. However, if the witch studied in the Garden, she'll be in touch with the Silvan Spirits, so get them away from the forest."

"Soon it will be market day. We could see if she brings the boy."

"No. You need to be certain they both come, and you ought to set the witch a challenge."

"A challenge? I don't understand."

"To wear her down! Always meet your enemies when they are weak, and you are strong."

"I see. What would you suggest?"

"If she's a healer, she won't be able to resist a major outbreak, will she? Especially if it afflicts young children." His grin was unpleasant. "Your task, Magus, is to create a disease."

"Clever. But, why is it my task? You rarely trust me with anything this important."

Vultan raised a knife-thin eyebrow. "Working with diseases exposes even the most expert sorcerer to a certain degree of personal risk."

"You want me to risk becoming infected, instead of you?"

"Precisely."

"Oh." Magus did not look pleased, but he said nothing more.