The escort returned to the Ravenshade ducal seat at dawn, and it returned without Count Corvane.
"His gates were shut, my lord." The escort captain stood at attention in the study and looked at a framed map instead of his duke. "The count sends his regrets. He is... indisposed. His men were courteous, my lord. Courteous, and... they were on the walls."
"Indisposed." Tharion repeated the word from behind his desk, level. The level was work.
"There is more. The ferry village across from his seat reports wagons on the count's roads past midnight. Heavy ones, moving without lanterns. And the record-house chimneys... They were still burning when we rode out, my lord."
The last word reached the bottom of the duke's stomach before his face moved, and his hands flattened slowly on the desk.
