Roric gave a start, then smiled what appeared to be his normal smile. “I gather we were heard all over the castle. But men sometimes say things when they have sat too long drinking that they later regret.”

“Is that why you slipped away last night rather than drinking with us?” But as he spoke he remembered: that shouting match in the hall with the door closed, the voices loud though the words were indistinct, had taken place in the middle of the morning.

“I just had somewhere to go,” said Roric offhandedly, though Valmar, watching his face, thought there was more here than he wanted to say.

“Even though you quarreled with Father,” Valmar asked, “will you stay at the castle? Will you continue to serve him-and,” he added almost shyly, “once I am king, will you serve me?”

This time Roric looked disconcerted, as though he had not thought this through. “I do not know,” he said, not quite meeting the other’s eyes. “There are reasons-the lords of voima know what powerful reasons-for me to stay, but something has happened that may mean I shall go away for a while… How about you, Valmar?” he added suddenly and with a grin. “Are you going to travel far and boldly, to win a fortune and a place in all the songs?”

It was Valmar’s turn to be disconcerted. “But I could not leave,” he said slowly. He had grown up knowing he would someday inherit this kingdom and had never seriously considered going elsewhere-even if the day he would inherit always seemed impossibly far in the future. “Without someone directing the castle, nettles would invade the fields, deer roll in the meadows, geese nest in the forest clearings-”

“Here comes Nole,” said Roric. “He has her this time.”

As the spotted mare galloped down the hill, a band of shouting men on her tail, Valmar glanced up to see a single rider in the distance, silhouetted against the sky. Father was coming after all, he thought. He would try to talk to Roric privately some other time.