Zala couldn’t help asking the obvious question. “Majesty, what of the imperial mages? Surely they could find and summon this man much more quickly than I.”

The empress’s forthright manner became suddenly evasive. “He cannot be moved by magic,” she replied, looking away. “Even the ring will fail if…”

Her voice trailed off. Zala waited patiently. The empress shook off her odd mood and added, “He must be found the hard way. Rely on your own wits and skill.”

Zala vowed she would. She always had.

The empress explained that ten thousand crowns had been deposited with Zala’s partner in Caergoth. When the huntress returned with her quarry, another twenty thousand would be paid to her on the spot. The sum caused Zala’s jaw to drop. She’d never dreamed of such a commission.

“What man is worth thirty thousand crowns?” she blurted.

“His name is Tol, once Lord Tolandruth, general of the Army of the North and champion of the late emperor, Ackal IV.”

Zala knew the name. Tolandruth had been an important warlord once, winning many battles against the Tarsans, but six years ago he’d fallen afoul of the current emperor and gotten himself banished. He must’ve done something pretty bad to lose his titles and position. No wonder the empress wanted their business kept secret. The emperor would not be pleased to know his chief consort was searching for a disgraced former hero of the empire.

“He may be dead, Majesty,” Zala warned.

“He’s alive,” was the unhesitating response. “I know it in my heart. Bring him to me. Quickly.”

Zala took her leave. Once out of the empress’s presence, she drew a deep breath. She was sweating beneath her deerskins, though the palace was cool enough. Here was a chance to make more money with one job than she could in fifty years of ordinary tracking. Her partner in Caergoth-her human father-was old and sick. Thirty thousand gold pieces would ease his burdens immeasurably.