Fyn ran straight to the menagerie where the foenix lived. No sign of Piro. Though he rarely saw the bird it remembered him and gave a low interrogative chirrup of greeting. He stooped to scratch the foenix's scaled chest. As he stood up Byren arrived, his broad shoulders blocking the entrance.
'So you thought to look here too, Fyn? No luck?'
Fyn shook his head and rose. They strode out of the courtyard together and along the hall.
'Don't take Lence to heart,' Byren said. 'He's angry all the time now and it eats away at him.'
'I don't see what he's got to be angry about. He's kingsheir and father's favourite. Of all of us, he's most like father.'
Byren frowned for an instant, then dredged up a grin. 'Except Piro. She inherited his temper.' He shook his head. 'I don't know what's got into her this time.'
'Her heart's in the right place,' Fyn said, remembering how she'd risked the abbey's wrath to help him. 'But she doesn't think things through.'
They came to a point where two sets of stairs from different wings fed onto a hallway with many doors.
'I'll try the kitchen. Cook is probably hiding her again. If not, I'll ask Seela,' Byren said. 'You try the stable loft.'
Fyn nodded.
Illien came down the stairs from the family wing and crossed the hall to join them. 'Byren, what's going on?'
'You might as well know. It'll be all over the castle by dinner time. Piro's turned down the warlord father wanted her to marry. And now she's hiding,' Byren revealed.
Fyn put two and two together. He'd heard how the new Lord Cobalt had ridden in demanding justice on behalf of his father and bride.
'And this is little Fyn?' Cobalt asked with a smile. 'Not so little now. Last time I saw you, you were still in the nursery and Piro was a baby.'
'I'll always be little compared to Byren and Lence,' Fyn said. He felt he knew this man already. It had to be the family resemblance. He caught himself staring and remembered his manners. 'I'm sorry to hear about your loss.'
Grief's shadow darkened Cobalt's eyes, making the lines that bracketed his mouth severe. 'They will pay. Lence has sworn to help me avenge them.'
'We can't have Utland raiders attacking our people,' Byren said, though he seemed resigned rather than righteous. 'Meanwhile, we must find Piro.'
'I'll help. Where should I look?' Cobalt asked.
'We've already tried the menagerie,' Byren said. 'But she may circle back. She loves the Affinity beasties.'
They separated. With a nod to Cobalt and Byren, Fyn ran off.
The stables were deserted, the workers all madly preparing for the feast. Fyn climbed up to the loft, calling softly for Piro. She didn't answer but that didn't mean she wasn't there. He made a thorough search of the long loft with its sweet-smelling hay. No sign of his sister.
Before he could climb down, the stables filled with angry men saddling their horses.
Fyn listened at the top of the ladder. The men had the clipped accents of barbarians from beyond the Dividing Mountains and they occasionally threw in unknown words which made their speech hard to understand. When he heard their destination was Cockatrice Spar, he understood. Their warlord had been insulted and they were about to ride out of Rolenhold, even though it was nearly dusk on the shortest day of the year and their warlord had yet to renew his oath of allegiance at the feast tonight. No one in their right mind ventured abroad when the barriers between the Seen and the Unseen were at their weakest.
After the last horse was led out, Fyn climbed down the ladder to the floor below. The stable was warm and smelt of horses, earthy and familiar. He dusted hay off his leggings and saffron robe and headed out into the stable courtyard where two dozen of the warlord's honour guard adjusted their cinnamon-coloured cockatrice cloaks. They talked and laughed too loudly to show that they were not intimidated by King Rolen's men-at-arms, who stood on the ramparts, weapons in hand, watching them.
No one looked at Fyn. With all the visitors, servants, minstrels and men-at-arms crowded into Rolenhold, one more shaven-headed acolyte was unremarkable. A man in a wyvern-skin vest shoved past Fyn to speak with an old man nearby. Fyn just caught his words.
'…the ability to outfox every other warlord, that's all that makes King Rolen's blood royal. Well, we'll see who's the better fox!' he snarled. 'Keep your eyes open and report to me.'
The old man nodded. Fyn wasn't surprised to learn that Rejulas had a spy at Rolenhold. The warlord mounted up, and kicked his horse's flanks to get the beast moving. The mounts had more sense than their riders. It was late and cold, and getting colder, and the horses wanted to go back to the stables.
Warlord Rejulas led his honour guard through an archway into the main courtyard. The great gates had been winched open and, shrouded in a tense silence, he and his men rode out. They would be lucky if they got further than Rolenton tonight but, with the attempted assassination fresh in his mind, it was the gesture of defiance that worried Fyn. How would the other warlords react? No wonder his father was furious with Piro. Still, he couldn't help feeling sorry for her.
Fyn might have been angry enough to throttle his sister, but he didn't want anyone harming her. Everyone wanted something from him. Not Piro. She was ready to risk the abbey's censure to help him. Now she was in trouble and he had to find her.
He headed for Eagle Tower, the last of Piro's favourite places. The long connecting corridors were dark, no torches had been lit yet. Shadows clung to the alcoves, hiding the brilliant colours of the carved friezes.
Piro slipped into the unistag's enclosure and held her hands out to him, calling him gently. When she was upset her Affinity built up until it crawled across her skin like ants, making her grind her teeth to prevent a cry. She focused the power on her hands and the unistag came willingly. He began to lick the Affinity from her fingers.
Within moments her tension eased. She stroked the unistag's velvet muzzle. What a handsome beast he was. With the body of a white horse and the head of a noble stag, his single horn gleamed like mother-of-pearl. Roan unistags had horns of red ivory, which were not as highly valued.
'Should you be in there with that Affinity beast?' a voice that was all too familiar asked softly.
Piro spun. The last person she wanted to confront right now was the new Lord Cobalt. She could still see him, face pressed to her mother's breast, being comforted.
The unistag shied away. Startled by her reaction, it trotted to the far end of the enclosure.
'Illien — I mean, Lord Cobalt. I'm quite safe, truly. I've known the unistag since I was little.' But only recently had she let him nuzzle her hands to relieve the build up of Affinity. Had the new Lord Cobalt noticed? Her back had been to him and besides, he had no Affinity, so she was safe.
She stepped out of the enclosure, letting Cobalt close the gate behind her while she went to the fountain which had been turned off for the winter and held her hands under the water spigot. It was warm, having been pumped up from one of Halcyon's hot pools deep under the castle.
'You must be Piro. You are so like your beautiful mother,' Cobalt said, coming up behind her.
Piro turned, deliberately flicking her hands dry. Beads of water scattered him, landing on the embroidered velvet of his fancy coat. He took a step back, attempting to brush the water off.
'Uh, sorry,' Piro lied.
Cobalt shot her a quick look. 'I hear your father is furious with you.'
She shrugged, pretending a nonchalance she did not feel. 'Someone is always furious with me.'
'They are trying to force you to marry a man you do not love. A pretty girl like you… the boys must be lining up to dance on feast days. I suppose you already have your heart set on — '
Piro laughed at the absurdity of it. 'I'm only thirteen!'
He recovered quickly. 'Most girls are planning their wedding at thirteen.'
'I'm not most girls.' She glared at him and he hesitated. She wished he would just go away. She didn't want to think that there was ever a time when the queen was lonely, when her father did not value her mother enough to make her feel loved.
Cobalt frowned, then smiled charmingly. 'I see you are an original thinker, as they say in Ostron Isle.'
She liked that description, but for some reason she didn't want to accept any compliments from him. All she wanted was to cut the conversation short and escape. 'I have to go now. I'm very sorry about the raiders.'
'The raiders… ah.' He came over and sat on the edge of the fountain, sinking his head into his hands. 'I still can't believe it's true. To have my father snatched from me when we had only just reconciled after thirteen years. To lose my bride…'
He could not go on. His shoulders shook.
Piro's stomach knotted and tears stung her eyes. She rubbed his back between his broad shoulders. His long curled hair felt like silk under her hand and black onyxes winked at her, entwined amidst his curls. Why would a man bother to make himself look so fine, unless he planned seduction?
How could she think such a thing as he sobbed over his murdered bride?
'…it was all my fault. My stupid pride,' he whispered, despair making his voice thick. 'If I hadn't carried a chest of jewels to impress my father the raiders wouldn't have been tempted.'
Prompted by the urge to relieve his pain, Piro's Affinity rose up through the core of her body, warming her, rolling down her arms into her fingers. Only last week she had eased the pain of one of the cooks who had burnt her hand by drawing off the sensation. No one had noticed then, so now she tried it with Cobalt, opening her senses, willing to share his pain to help ease it.
Nothing.
Blank.
She pulled back a step.
His head remained bowed. 'I'm sorry, child. A man may weep inside, but he must be strong for his men. Forgive my lapse. I… I was overcome.' Cobalt lifted his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, tortured, but she had sensed no emotion in him.
She took another step back. 'That's all right. Byren weeps every time he hears the Tale of the Bone Flute.'
Even while Piro spoke, she was trying to fathom this new Lord Cobalt. Either he truly felt nothing and it was all a sham, or he was so well walled she could not reach him, yet he had claimed to be in the throes of deep emotion and asked her forbearance.
'Why do you look at me like that, little Piro?'
She blinked. Oh, his black eyes were so sharp… they made her skin prickle with fear.
'I can't get over how like Lence you are,' she said to divert him, 'well, a mixture of father and Lence.'
He smiled. 'Blood will leave its mark. I am your kin, after all.'
'I have to go now, Mother's expecting me,' Piro lied, then she turned and walked away, when all her instincts told her to run.
Byren had no luck in the kitchen, so he headed back to the war table chamber to see if Fyn had found Piro. One of the younger men of his father's honour guard was on duty at the base of the stairs outside the trophy chamber. This was unusual. His father must be feeling the need for a show of strength. He stopped to exchange a word just as two servants approached, pushing a trolley laden with firewood. The noise was so bad he just nodded to the guard and went up the stairs, accompanied by the rattling of the wheels that echoed up the stairwell. Even so, he could hear raised voices from the war table room on the floor above. His father and Lence yelling at each other? Impossible.
Byren thrust the door open, surprising the king and his twin in the midst of a heated argument. Both turned to him.
He was so startled he simply stood there.
His father gestured impatiently. 'Shut the door.'
'Byren, you tell Father I'm right. The Merofynians despise their king and fear his bullying overlord,' Lence said. Byren recognised Cobalt's refrain. 'The country is ripe for an uprising. We should — '
'We've signed a peace accord, you're betrothed to King Merofyn's daughter,' Rolen interrupted. 'What kind of king would I be to dishonour my word?'
Lence made the same impatient gesture their father had used a moment before. 'But — '
'Peace means trade and prosperity, Lence,' their father insisted. 'War means death and — '
'To the victor go the spoils!'
'True,' King Rolen conceded. 'But there's no guarantee we'll be the victor. You've only ever led raids, in and out quickly, warrior against warrior. Sometimes it is enough to take their spar symbol for the warlord's men to retreat. But war…' He shook his head. 'War is brutal. At best, fields are ruined and people starve, and at worst, women and children are murdered. War turns ordinary men into monsters. Believe me, I've seen it!'
Lence snorted. 'You've grown old, father. Old and tired.'
'Lence!' Byren protested, shocked.
King Rolen blanched. His mouth settled in a grim line. 'When you've seen your brother and father writhing on the ground as they die in agony, when you've had to order the execution of a man who was your childhood friend, then you can tell me I'm a coward!'
'I never said you were a coward, Father,' Lence said, 'just old and tired. It's about time you stepped aside and let a young man — '
'Step aside?' King Rolen bellowed. 'You… you insolent wyvern! Get out of my sight!'
'But — '
'Lence,' Byren interrupted, stepping between them. Veins stood out on his father's forehead, the skin had become enflamed and his neck muscles corded. What if he had a brain spasm like the Old Dove? Byren grabbed his brother's arm. 'Come, help me find Piro.'
His twin snatched his arm free.
'This is not over,' Lence told their father, and stalked out.
Byren hesitated as the king went to follow, to have the last word, but his bad knee turned under him and Byren caught him as he fell, helping him to a chair. His father cursed fluently.
'Lence doesn't mean it,' Byren muttered.
'Yes, he does. He's young and impatient. I know what I was like at his age. I hated diplomacy. But, Byren, I'm done with war. We've had thirty years of good harvests, uninterrupted trade with both Merofynia and Ostron Isle. Nowadays the meanest crofter lives as well as a prosperous merchant did when I was a lad. I want peace and prosperity for my people. I'm not a — '
'I know, Father.' Byren straightened up. 'Should I send for one of the healers?'
'What? No. They've done their best.' Rolen rubbed his bad knee. 'I'll give Cobalt's manservant a chance to prove his boasts. Hopefully…'
Byren heard the unspoken words. Hopefully he could fix it, for King Rolen couldn't afford to look weak.
'I'd better go, catch up with Lence.'
Fyn met his brothers as he turned into the corridor that led to the war table stairwell. One of his father's honour guard stood silently at the landing at the base of the stairs, about a body length from them.
'I couldn't find Piro,' Fyn reported.
The twins barely nodded, radiating tension.
'Rejulas just marched out of Rolenhold with his warriors. Where's father?' Fyn asked. 'Does Mother know what's going on? Have you found Piro?'
'Piro's still hiding,' Lence said. 'Do you know where she is?'
Fyn shook his head. 'No. I told you I didn't.'
'If you won't help us, you might as well go back to your monks,' Lence snapped.
Fyn felt heat steal up his cheeks. The honour guard on duty studiously looked the other way. Fyn was about to protest when Lence shoved past him and walked off.
Fyn glanced at Byren, who shook his head in silent apology. Lence rounded the corner, the thump of his boots fading.
'He's not angry with you,' Byren whispered.
'With Piro. I understand. Can't Father say they've reconsidered Piro's betrothal?' Fyn lowered his voice even further. 'Cockatrice isn't the only spar.'
'No, but it is one of the most powerful. Father can't afford to let Rejulas ride off without renewing his allegiance. The warlord of Manticore Spar is only waiting for a sign of weakness to flout royal authority.'
Fyn nodded. This wasn't news to him.
Byren fixed on him. 'Can you find Piro and keep her out of sight until father calms down?'
'Of course,' Fyn said. 'What will you do?'
'I'll find Mother. She needs to know what's going on.'
Fyn nodded. He watched Byren jog after Lence then glanced up the corridor towards the stairs and the war table chamber. That was another sore point. Both he and Piro were considered too young to attend the war table. He'd been hoping that this time it would be different.
Fyn backtracked, crossed the courtyard and ran to the top of Eagle Tower. No sign of Piro. If he couldn't find her, then no one could. It looked like she had wisely decided to keep out of sight for a while.
Right now he wanted to know what was being discussed at the war table. He had a right to know. His mind made up, he left the tower.
Piro hurried along the castle corridors. She wanted to know why the alliance with warlord Rejulas was so important. As his wife, she would have inside knowledge of his plans. Why was this important to her father and brothers, when there was no threat from Merofynia? Picking up her skirts, she darted down the corridor to the base of the steps which led up to the room that housed the war table.
One of the honour guard stood there. Usually the stair was unguarded. It made her uneasy.
'Father sent for me,' she lied with a straight face. 'I think I'm in trouble.' That was true enough.
'Chin up.' He winked.
She felt a stab of guilt. All her life she had been teasing the honour guard with her tricks.
The soft soles of her good indoor slippers made almost no sound as she hurried up the steps to the next landing. Pausing to catch her breath, she crept to the door and strained to overhear her parents through the thick oak. Her heart beat uncomfortably fast.
Her mother spoke soothingly. But she could tell from her father's tone that he was furious. How was she going to explain her actions and warn him, without revealing her Affinity?
Hands grabbed her arm and covered her mouth, pulling her away from the door. She squirmed desperately as she was dragged away across the landing.
'Have you forgotten everything I taught you?' Fyn whispered.
In a flash she remembered and drove her elbow into his midriff. He grunted with pain, but did not release her, although his hand did slip from her mouth. 'Let me go. I want to know what's going on.'
'So do I, but if you make any more noise they'll hear you, as I did.'
She stopped struggling.
'Father is in a fury, Piro. Warlord Rejulas rode out of Rolenhold with his honour guard. The alliance is ruined. The other warlords are muttering amongst themselves, threatening to defy Rolencia. Father needs time to calm down,' Fyn warned softly. 'Come with me.'
He let her go and she spun to face him. 'Where to?'
Fyn signalled for silence, smiled and led her to another door. He held his finger to his lips again and she nodded impatiently. Then he opened the door to the twins' lesson room. She had never been inside, having resentfully stood at the door and wondered about the knowledge she, as a female, would never know.
Looking back now, she realised she probably had a broader and more useful education than the twins. Like them she had studied law and accounting, but her mother and Seela had also tutored her using books from Merofynia. Many were the times she had dressed up to play out roles from the history of both kingdoms.
The lesson chamber was not at all mysterious. It was cold and dim. The desks and chairs, abandoned five years ago when her brothers become men and outgrew their tutors, were covered in a thick layer of dust.
'I found this one day when Lence and Byren shut me in the cupboard,' Fyn whispered as he opened a door and stepped inside, beckoning her. Its shelves were full of inks, papers, old vellum scrolls and books. Fyn pulled some books off the shelf and pressed his ear to the wooden back of the cupboard. She did the same.
Now she could hear their voices quite clearly. She met Fyn's eyes, delighted.
'Enough of that,' her mother said. 'We must concentrate on mending this breach. We'll send someone after Rejulas to apologise and invite him to the spring cusp celebrations. Piro's been wild in the past but this is the last straw. It's time she grew up. She — '
'She spat out the food he gave her, acted like it was spoiled!' King Rolen said.
'Perhaps it was,' Byren suggested.
'It was not. I tasted it.' King Rolen roared. 'Then, when I asked her to pick up the Kingdoms pieces, she fled like an ulfr pack was after her. I sent Rejulas to bring her back, thinking he'd win her over, but she said something to him that made him march off.'
'It doesn't matter what little Piro said or did, Myrella's right,' Captain Temor said. 'One of the warlords sent hired killers after the kingsheir today. We can't hold the Jubilee celebrations without Unistag Spar renewing their loyalty, their absence would make Rolencia look weak. And we can't afford to lose Rejulas's support.'
A chair scraped on the boards as someone stood up. 'I'll go after him.' It was Lence.
Silence stretched and Piro could imagine them all exchanging glances.
'That could just work,' the queen said softly. 'Any warlord would be flattered to have the kingsheir apologise in person.'
'Take some of your father's honour guard,' Captain Temor said.
'No. I'll take my own,' Lence replied.
'You have them sworn already?' King Rolen asked stiffly.
'Seven, with more wanting to join. How many do you have, brother?'
'Not sure,' Byren muttered. 'But it's a good idea to invite Rejulas back for the Jubilee celebrations. He can spend some time with Piro. Let him be the one to break the betrothal when he discovers what a bad-tempered little wyvern she is!'
Piro could hear the smile in his voice.
'She bared her teeth at him already today,' King Rolen complained. 'I don't know what possessed the girl!'
'Don't be too hard on her, father,' Byren said. 'If she understood how serious things are, she wouldn't have offended Rejulas. Once Rolencia's warlords hear how Palatyne united all the Merofynian spars under him, they'll be dreaming of doing the same. I think it is time she and Fyn took their seats at the war table.'
At last! Piro held her breath.
Her mother sighed. 'Piro's too wilful. She never thinks before she acts. Maybe in a few years.'
'If I'm old enough to be betrothed,' Piro muttered under her breath, 'I'm old enough — '
'Hush,' Fyn hissed. 'Father's speaking.'
'…trust Fyn, but only so far. He's been at the abbey since he was six. His loyalty is divided.'
'I trust Fyn,' Queen Myrella protested. 'He's loyal to us.'
'Give me one good reason why I should trust him,' Lence snapped.
There was a strained silence. Piro closed her eyes, knowing how her mother must be torn, unable to reveal the Affinity which enabled her to glimpse into some people's hearts.
'Very well.' King Rolen sounded tired. 'If he can't be trusted, he can't have a seat at the war table.'
Fyn slipped out of the cupboard, his face ashen. Torn between hearing more and consoling him, Piro followed.
Fyn came to a stop on the far side of the room in the window embrasure. Frost rimmed each diamond pane of glass. He looked sick.
'Father and Lence didn't mean it, Fyn,' she whispered, her breath misting in the chilly air.
'Of course they did.' His voice shook with anger. 'Father was the one who gifted me to the abbey. What did he expect? At least they'll let you take your seat in a few years.'
'Not if I tell them about my Affinity.' Tears stung her eyes. 'Oh, Fyn. I looked into the Mirror of Insight and I saw the wyvern about to tear father's head off. I came to warn him about Rejulas.'
'Forget Rejulas. He's a just an upstart warlord, greedy for power. Merofynia is the real threat. I'm no mystic, Piro, but even I can interpret what you saw. The wyvern is the symbol of Merofynia. King Merofyn threatens Rolencia.'
'But Lence is betrothed to his daughter. Is King Merofyn so treacherous that he would betrothe his daughter, while preparing for war?' Piro whispered. 'Besides, who would want war, when we could have peace?'
'Oh, Piro.' Fyn shook his head. 'You are such an innocent.'
'I am not. Even I know that war brings death!'
'War brings wealth and power for the victor.'
'If you love war, why don't you serve the weapons master?' she snapped.
Fyn sank into the window seat and turned his face away from her.
'I'm sorry, Fyn,' she whispered. 'And I'm sorry about today and the Fate.'
'It was brave of you, Piro.' He gave her an odd look. 'Or didn't you stop to think about the risks?'
'I did. But I didn't intend to be caught.'
He shook his head ruefully. 'Feldspar deserved to find the Fate. His Affinity is stronger than mine. Even your Affinity is stronger than mine.'
Piro winced. She sat in the other half of the window seat and hugged her knees, wishing she could cheer him up.
'Maybe I should go to the abbess of Sylion, tell her I have Affinity and renounce the world,' she said, without conviction. 'At least I'd escape this plotting.'
Fyn snorted. 'You are an innocent. You can't escape plotting in an abbey. Being King Rolen's kin would make you a target in the mistresses' power plays. Besides, our parents won't want to let you go. You're too valuable a Kingdoms' piece. No, Piro. You were right and I was wrong. Tell no one for now.' He reached out and squeezed her hand. 'Will you promise me that?'
She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. 'Seela knows.'
He rolled his eyes. 'Why did you — '
'I wanted to warn Father. She stopped me. Don't worry, she won't tell.'
'Why not?' Fyn countered. 'She and Mother are thick as thieves.'
Piro debated with herself for a moment, then spoke. 'Have you ever wondered why you and I have it?'
'Affinity? Just bad luck — '
'No. We inherited it from Mother.'
He stared at her.
Piro nodded, almost laughing at his stunned expression. 'She's been hiding it all these years. Seela told me. Mother's Affinity came on her when she became a woman, like me. She didn't tell anyone because she had to marry Father to keep the peace.'
'Who would have thought?' Fyn shook his head slowly. 'Well, if she can hide it, then so can you.' He stood up. 'Pay attention and I'll teach you how to block out dangerous Affinity.'
She stood opposite him and mimicked his actions as he tapped his closed eyes, then his ears, then his mouth, then his heart, whispering all the time in a sing-song way.
'What're you saying?'
'Calling on Halcyon to protect me. I suppose the nuns call on Sylion but I don't think it matters what you say. The words and actions are just to help focus the will. Have you seen enough?'
She nodded.
'Then show me.'
She repeated the actions, humming in time to the tapping under her breath.
'Right. When you get really good at it you only have to think about it to set up the protective wards. And on no account let a renegade Power-worker touch your bare skin. It gives them access to — '
'As if I would!'
He grinned. 'Promise me you'll practise the wards every day.'
'I will, but Fyn, I won't see you again until spring cusp.'
He caught her hands in his. 'Don't worry. If there's any trouble Mother will help hide your Affinity.'
'She hates me!'
'Nonsense, Piro.'
'She does. I'm always doing the wrong thing. I'm a disappointment to her.' The immensity of it made Piro's eyes sting and she gulped back a sob. 'I've insulted Rejulas so the other warlords will defy father and — '
'Enough.' Fyn released her hands and clasped her shoulders, giving her a little shake. 'Everything's going to be all right. Lence will sweet-talk Rejulas and Byren will keep the warlords under control. Lence is betrothed to the Merofynian kingsdaughter which means we can look forward to another thirty years' peace. So your vision was wrong.'
'You think so?' She searched his face.
'Of course. Just keep out of Father's way until he's calmed down.'