“As they climbed into their saddles, Myron bowed his head and muttered a soft prayer.“There,” Hadrian told Royce, “we’ve got Maribor on our side. Now you can relax.”“Actually,” Myron said sheepishly, “I was praying for the horses. But I will pray for you as well,” he added hastily.”

“Oh my,' Myron said to Hadrian as he twisted to get a better view. 'I don't even think of horses when I look at her.”

“Myron reached for the phone and dialed Win's number. After the eighth ring he began to hang up when a weak, distant voice coughed. "Hello?"Win?"Yeah."You okay?"Hello?"Win?"Yeah."What took you so long to answer the phone?"Hello?"Win?"Who is this?"Myron."Myron Bolitar?"How many other Myrons do you know?"Myron Bolitar?"No, Myron Rockefeller."Something's wrong," Win said.What?"Terribly wrong."What are you talking about?"Some asshole is calling me at seven in the morning pretending to be my best friend."Sorry, I forgot the time.”

“The minister said, “Let us pray,” but as everyone else bowed their head, I could only stare slack-jawed at the sight of Peter Van Houten. After a moment, he whispered, “We gotta fake pray,” and bowed his head.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you,” Royce said as Hadrian prepared the bow. “It’s just that we’ve learned over the years that honor among nobles is usually inversely proportionate to their rank. As a result, we prefer to rely on more concrete methods for motivations—such as self-preservation. You already know we don’t want you dead, but if you have ever been riding full tilt and had a horse buckle under you, you understand that death is always a possibility, and broken bones are almost a certainty.”“There’s also the danger of missing the horse completely,” Hadrian added. “I’m a good shot, but even the best archers have bad days. So to answer your question—yes, you can control your own horse.”

“I need your help.”Royce looked up as if his head weighed a hundred pounds, his eyes red, his face ashen. He waited.“One last job,” Hadrian told him, then added, “I promise.”“Is it dangerous?”“Very.”“Is there a good chance I’ll get killed?”“Odds are definitely in favor of that.”Royce nodded, looked down at the scarf in his lap, and replied, “Okay.”