Turning on her heel she went to enter her chamber, but Lence was in the way and he was enjoying this far too much to let her pass.
'Let her go, Lence,' Elina said. 'It's for the best.'
'Don't listen to Elina, father,' Garzik insisted.
'What would you know? You're just a silly little boy who thinks he's a warrior,' Elina rounded on him. 'I wouldn't be surprised if you went the same way as Orrade!'
Garzik stiffened. His cheeks grew very pale and he pulled himself up to his full height. 'Father.' He inclined his head in a short bow. 'I see I am not wanted here. I'll go. I'll serve in Byren Kingson's honour guard!'
He shoved past Brookfield and Dellton, striding off down the hall.
'Garzik,' Lord Dovecote called after him. 'I insist you stay. You are my heir.'
'Make Elina your heir. I know where my true friends are,' Garzik replied over his shoulder.
'Leave this house and you will never be welcome here again!' Lord Dovecote shouted.
Garzik spun to face his father. For a heartbeat Piro thought there was going to be a shouting match and dreaded what would come out. Then Garzik gave the old lord a short, stiff bow. 'So be it. Good bye, Father, Elina.'
Elina whimpered then spun to face Piro. 'Now look what you've done!'
Piro stared at her. Her sight shimmered and she saw invisible doors slamming shut between them. She didn't say the things that boiled for release, but pushed past Lence and ran into her chamber to pack her things.
The door opened right behind her.
'What is it now?' she spun around, fighting the tears.
'Oh, Piro,' Lence muttered, crossing the room to hug her. 'Why do you always do things the hard way?'
Her tears erupted and she wiped them away furiously, wriggling out of his embrace. She rinsed her face in the water bowl, dried her cheeks and turned to him. 'I'm fine now, Lence.'
'Good. Get Garza to take you back to Rolenhold by the canal. We saw the tracks of a manticore pride on the horse trail,' Lence warned. He frowned at her. 'Did you hear me, Piro?'
She nodded once, stiffly. Satisfied, Lence left her alone.
Throwing her travelling bag on the bed, she stripped off her good gown and dragged on her travelling clothes. It didn't take long to pack. The cook sent up a sumptuous breakfast, which she thought she'd never finished. But after the first mouthful she discovered she was hungry and polished off the lot.
By late morning, she was out in the stables helping the lad saddle her horse.
'Better prepare Garzik's as well,' she warned him.
Sure enough, ten minutes later Garzik strode into the stable and she was ready to meet him, with his mount's reins in her hands.
He gave her a short nod of thanks and swung up into the saddle.
It did not seem the right time to say she was sorry, so Piro kept her silence as they rode out of the stables, out of the yard and turned their mounts towards the trail off the estate.
How had things gone so wrong, Piro wondered, when she had set out with the best of intentions to help Byren reconcile with Elina?
'Slow down, Garzik,' she said suddenly. 'We must tell Byren. He'll be waiting for Elina at the water-wheel.'
'Then he's going to be disappointed,' Garzik muttered. They turned their horses across country.
Byren tensed and untensed his muscles as he lay along the tree's broad branch. He was half frozen even in his thick winter woolens. There'd been another cold snap last night, making him glad he'd built a sturdy snow-cave.
It was only as he was riding down here that he realised Orrade's preference for men would be accepted in Ostron Isle. Was this why his friend had suggested they go there? Maybe he was being selfish by asking Orrade to stay. Ambassadors tended to be older people with years of experience at court, but Byren could suggest that Orrade go to Ostron Isle as assistant to Rolencia's current ambassador. At least then Orrade would have a respected position. Yes, he would speak to his mother about it.
Byren heard the soft clump of a horse walking through snow and the gentle snort as it blew through its nostrils. His spirits lifted. All was right with the world. Elina had come to see him, which could only mean she must be ready to forgive him.
He swung down from the tree branch, dropping to the snow.
When he straightened up, it was not Elina who rode towards him, but Lence. For a moment he thought his eyes must be deceiving him. 'Lence, I thought you were — '
'I was, but I'm back. Elina sent me to give you a message, brother.'
Byren tensed.
'She wants you to leave her alone.'
'I don't believe it. I won't. Not until I hear it from her own lips.'
'She's already told you once. How many times must she tell you? You sicken her, you and your lover…'
Byren swayed, sounds spiralling away until a roaring filled his ears. When it cleared, Lence was still sitting astride his horse about a body length from him, hands resting lightly on the pommel of the saddle. He got the impression his twin was waiting for an answer but he'd no idea what the question was.
'Lence, you've gone wenching with me enough times to know that — '
'I admit I found it hard to believe, but you were condemned by your own words.'
'I was protecting Orrie.'
'Why protect him if it's not true?' Lence countered. He shook his head, repressing a shudder. 'It all falls into place. Illien was right, but I refused to believe him. The Servants of Palos are moving again, and this time the alternative heir is not a bastard!'
Byren snorted, torn between laughter and outrage. Then he remembered Cobalt's words… the truth is highly overrated. He took a step closer. 'It's a lie — '
His brother jerked on the reins making the horse rear in protest. Byren had to dart back to avoid slashing hooves. Lence kept pulling on the reins so that the horse pivoted and sidled away.
'Lence, wait,' Byren called. 'Don't trust Cobalt. Think. How long have you known him? What do we know of his life on Ostron Isle?'
'Illien has already confessed his past to me. An older woman lured him on, a furious husband tried to blacken his name, all else is lies and slander. At least he possessed the honour to admit his past indiscretion. What of Orrade?' Again, Lence shuddered. 'I always wondered why you were closer to him than me. Now I know. How long have you two been lovers?'
Byren did not know what to say.
'You don't dare answer me.'
'I don't answer because you've already refused to believe the truth.'
'To think I was so blind…' Lence shook his head. 'Swear to me you'll give up this madness?'
'What madness? I told you, I'm not involved in a conspiracy — '
'Please, Byren!'
He lifted his hands helplessly. How could Lence believe this of him?
'Very well,' Lence said. 'Lord Dovecote's in a rage. If you are captured and dragged before him now, I don't know what he'll do. Get off the estate. And Byren? We saw the tracks of a manticore pride on the canal, don't go that way.'
A dozen birds took to the air from behind a copse of white-cloaked evergreens. The birds' raucous cries echoed in the sudden silence. Lence glanced that way. 'Someone's coming. Go home by the horse trail.'
With that he turned his mount and galloped off.
Byren ran to the trees, seeking cover. The soft rhythm of the horse's hooves faded as he peered around a snow-crusted branch. Picking their way along the bank of the frozen stream, Piro and Garzik rode towards him. He came out of hiding, signalling to them.
Piro waved and cantered her mount around to meet him.
'Was that Lence?' she asked as she arrived.
He nodded.
'What did he want?'
'Elina sent him.'
'Oh.' Piro sat back in her saddle.
Garzik looked away, not wanting to share his disappointment.
Byren noticed their travelling bags tied to the saddles. 'Leaving already?'
'Elina threw me out.' Piro gave an unsteady
laugh.
'And I've been disinherited,' Garzik said.
'What?'
'Well, I told father to make Elina his heir, so it amounts to the same thing,' Garzik admitted.
'Why?'
'He was belittling you and Orrade. I… I lost my temper.'
'Lence knows, Byren,' Piro warned.
'I know he knows.' Byren turned towards his hidden horse.
'Will he tell father?' Piro asked.
In the midst of mounting up, Byren paused, then continued to swing his leg over the horse's back. 'He'll tell father all right. Tell him the Servants of Palos are planning to put me on the throne!'
'But there are no Servants of Palos, just Orrade — '
'And his attachment to a romantic myth,' Byren muttered. And suddenly he was able to forgive Orrade his foolish faith in Palos. Everyone needed a hero. A weight he hadn't really been aware of lifted from him as he spurred his horse towards their camp.
Piro took a few moments to catch up. 'Don't worry, Byren, father won't believe it.'
He pulled on the reins, slowing his horse, and twisted in the saddle to face her. 'Thirty years ago father purged Rolencia of the Servants of Palos. Noble and servant alike, they all went under the axe or dangled from the hangman's noose. Do you think he'll be any more lenient this time?'
'But Byren, there is no secret society. So you're safe.'
He thought of Lence's refusal to believe him. 'If it isn't there, how can I prove it doesn't exist?'
Piro's eyes widened and she fell silent.
Byren rode on, frustration and anger warring within him. When Lence returned to Rolenhold, Byren would lose his family and his place in the world, based on an accusation he could not disprove.
What could he do?
Piro watched distractedly as Byren and Orrade broke camp. When they were done, Orrade swung his leg over his mount and waited to bring up the rear, while Byren led them towards the trail to Rolenton.
That reminded her. 'Wait, Byren. Lence said he saw the spoor of a manticore pride on the horse trail. We should travel by canal.'
'Eh, you've got it wrong, Piro. He said the manticores were on the canal.'
She frowned. 'No. I'm sure — '
'You must have misheard him, Piro, because you'd expect manticores to be in the forest, not the canals.'
'Either way. We don't want to run into a manticore pride,' Orrade muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as if his head ached. 'They'll be ravenous from their winter sleep and each female is sure to have two or more cubs. They'll be hunting to feed them as well.'
Piro nodded. 'But I'm sure Lence said the horse trail wasn't safe.'
'Slip of the tongue,' Byren decided. 'I know what he told me.'
With that, he turned his horse towards the trail.
Piro debated arguing further but now she was beginning to doubt her own memory. They were much more likely to find the manticores on the horse trail, fresh from their den in the Divide, rather than down along the canal. So she fell into place riding behind Garzik, with Orrade bringing up the rear.
Fyn stiffened, drawing closer to Feldspar as Galestorm and Beartooth rounded the corner. His friend's soft gasp of fear sounded loud in his ear. They were in the hall to the mystics' store room, a place rarely visited by anyone but mystics, so Galestorm and Beartooth must have deliberately sought them out. Fyn cursed under his breath, for the monk who was supposed to watch over them had delayed to gossip with a friend. He would catch up in a moment, but by then it might be too late.
'Fyn, Feldspar,' Galestorm greeted them, malicious eyes bright with an excitement that filled Fyn with foreboding. 'I was so sorry to hear about the loss of your friend. I have been meaning to offer my personal condolences.'
Fury filled Fyn's chest, nearly choking him.
'It is a very sad loss,' he managed to say, then couldn't help adding, 'one that could have been avoided.'
Beartooth smirked. Fyn wanted to punch him.
'A misstep on the stairs. A simple accident,' Galestorm shrugged. 'So unfortunate.'
'We must all take care.' Fyn heard himself as if someone else was speaking. 'None of us are above taking a careless step.'
Galestorm's eyes widened, then narrowed.
'Even kingsons can — ' Beartooth growled.
But Galestorm cut him off, stepping closer, his voice dropping. 'You think you're safe, Fyn Kingson. Sure, you've got friends in high places. But friends come and go.'
'Not these friends. They will remain true,' Fyn said.
'Ah, but some of them are old and the old must make way for the young. One day Master Firefox will be abbot and then, who will you turn — '
'Not if Master Catillum is made abbot,' Feldspar protested.
Galestorm sent him a pitying look. 'Other than Master Oakstand, Catillum's supporters are all from the abbot's generation. When they die and take their place in Halcyon's Sacred Heart, who will back a crippled mystic?'
Feldspar swallowed audibly.
Galestorm smiled and nudged Beartooth. They passed by, Beartooth deliberately thumping his shoulder into Fyn's. When they rounded the bend, Fyn felt Feldspar sag against him. He discovered he'd been holding his breath and let it out in a rush. Sparks danced in front of his eyes and he had to take several breaths to clear his vision.
Feldspar sent him a worried look.
'Don't fret,' Fyn said. 'If Galestorm could strike at us, he would have by now. He's just blustering.'
'I hope you're right.'
Fyn hoped so too.
Byren finished his lunch and stood up, dusting crumbs from his hands. Piro and Garzik moved off to remount. He noticed Orrade rubbing his eyes, a frown drawing his straight black brows together. 'What's wrong, Orrie?'
'Oh, nothing,' he muttered, then seemed to think better of it. 'It's just these grey spots are coming back.' He blinked several times as if trying to clear his vision.
'Headache?' Byren asked, dreading the answer.
Orrade went as if to deny it, then admitted, 'It's been coming on since last night.'
'Ready?' Piro asked, having mounted up and urged her horse over to join them.
'Garza, you lead,' Byren called. 'I'll bring up the rear.'
Orrade opened his mouth to object, then shrugged.
'Not far to the first campsite, Garza knows the way,' Byren said.
They headed off. Riding in the rear meant Byren could watch Orrade's back. Was his friend suffering a relapse of the blindness or was his newly aroused Affinity trying to surface? Last time, Orrade had warned them about the raiders. What would it be this time? Manticores? Maybe Affinity beasts triggered his gift? No… the amfina hadn't.
'Eh, Orrie,' Byren called softly. 'Why didn't you warn me about the amfina before it attacked?'
Orrade glanced over his shoulder, his face pale, expression distracted. 'How could I, when I hadn't seen its tracks?'
And it obviously hadn't aroused his Affinity. So, Byren wondered, why was Orrade suffering similar symptoms to the ones that brought on his warning about the raiders? According to the tales, some people with Affinity could look into a person's heart and see if they were of evil intent. Certainly the amfina intended no evil. It was merely doing what beasts do, while the raiders knew they were crossing Rolencia to attack a peaceful village.
'Any trouble up ahead, Orrie?' Byren asked softly.
'See any trouble? I can't even see past my horse's ears,' Orrade muttered.
Byren chewed over this answer. It was clear Orrade's sight was fading again, and either he was unaware of his new-found Affinity or he was denying it to himself. Best to be on the lookout. The sooner they returned to Rolenhold the better.
Garzik was a brave lad but inexperienced. Like Piro, he could get himself into trouble. And if Orrade became worse Byren would have to lead his horse. Even now his friend swayed in the saddle, shoulders hunched in pain.
'Not far now, Orrie,' Byren said gently.
He didn't answer.
Fro
m then on Byren remained alert, watching for an attack or any deterioration in Orrade's state.
By the time they reached their usual camp, however, Orrade's colour was better and he helped to build the snow-cave. Garzik saw to the horses, with Piro's help. Soon they were snug in their snow-cave heating dinner over the brazier.
While Garzik and Piro bickered over the best kind of food to pack for winter travelling, Byren passed the reheated meat to Orrade. 'How's the headache, Orrie?'
'Nearly gone.'
'Spots?'
'Fading, thank the goddess.' Orrade tucked into his stew.
Byren decided it must have been a physical problem, after all.
'Eh, no visions, then?' he prodded, just to be sure.
Orrade cast him a swift, slightly startled look.
'Just kidding,' Byren muttered. If his guess was wrong, then there was no point in worrying Orrade. Still, he vowed to sleep lightly.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Byren woke to screaming horses. Forgetting where he was, he rolled to his feet, driving his head and shoulders through the roof of their snow-cave. It collapsed on the others. Snow muffled their confused cries and the brazier hissed like a trapped beast.
He leapt over Piro's snow-shrouded form, ploughing towards the horses. It was a cloudy night and the stars were hidden, but he knew the layout around their camp. A horse shrilled, then went ominously quiet. The others squealed, their hooves drumming on the ground as they tore at their pickets. He could imagine the scene from the sounds. As for the predator, he guessed it was a big one or a pack desperate and bold enough to attack their camp.
Manticores? He dreaded finding out.
He shouldn't charge in alone.
Behind him he could hear Orrade organising Garzik and Piro to protect each other. A glow of flames illuminated the night as Orrade lit torches.
'What is it?' Orrade asked, coming up behind Byren and handing him a burning brand.
'Watch my back.' Byren forged through the branches they'd stacked to form a windbreak for the horses. None of their mounts remained, only the churned snow where they had reared and fought for their lives.
Byren sniffed the air, recognising the scent. 'God-touched beasts.'
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