'Ten years,' Fyn agreed. 'When I was scared and all alone, he was kind to me.'
'He was kind to me, too. And they just took him away.' The boy gulped back a sob. 'Healer Springmelt didn't even let me say goodbye.'
Fyn knew how that felt. Springmelt? When Fyn was Master Wintertide's serving boy, Springmelt was one of the acolytes who'd tried to bribe him. Now the healer spied for the history master. That explained how Hotpool knew the manner of Wintertide's death. Wait a moment… 'When did you say they took his body?'
'Just now. Didn't you see them in the hall?'
Fyn's head spun. If they had only just taken the master away, the healers would not have had time to examine him and determine the cause of death. How had Hotpool known?
Catillum's words came back to him. Poison is the preferred method to remove rivals. The only way for Hotpool to know what had killed Wintertide was for him to have killed him with a poison that mimicked a heart attack.
When Galestorm had said the old must make way for the young, Fyn had not thought he meant the old were to be murdered. Fyn sprang to his feet, heading for the door.
'Where are you going?' The boy scrambled out and ran after him. He tugged on Fyn's arm.
Looking down into that tear-streaked face, pity stirred Fyn. 'Go to the cook and see if he has any hot soup left.'
'Hot soup won't bring back the master.'
'No. But going hungry won't bring him back, either.'
The boy smiled slowly. 'That sounds like something Master Wintertide would say.' He slipped his hand into Fyn's. 'I'm ready.'
But Fyn wasn't. There were dangers out there that he hadn't foreseen. 'You go. I want to stay here for a bit.'
The boy nodded wisely and went to leave, then turned back. 'I'm Lenny, named after the kingsheir, Lence.'
Fyn smiled. 'Go get something to eat, Lenny.'
'I will.'
Strangely cheered by this conversation, Fyn leant his forehead against the dressed stone. It was cold and helped him think. Springmelt was Master Hotpool's tool. A healer could kill as well as heal. Fyn's eyes burned with angry tears. He could not bear to think of his old master suffering. But there was no time for grief, or anger.
The faction headed by Master Firefox wanted to undermine the abbot so they had removed his most respected supporter. Where did that leave Fyn?
He must tell the mystics master. He wouldn't even have to skim Springmelt's mind. Murder would be easy enough to prove. Poison had to leave a trace in the victim's body. All Fyn had to do was tell Master Catillum, who would tell the abbot, who would order the healers to test for poison… the healing master was loyal to the abbot. At least Fyn thought that he was.
A weight lifted from Fyn. Wintertide's body would prove how he died. This time the murderers would be punished and Lonepine's spirit would be satisfied.
But Springmelt had removed the body. What if they planned to get rid of it? Without the body, he could not prove Wintertide had been poisoned.
Quick as a thought, Fyn ran along the hall and up the steps, taking the shortest route to the healing wing. He almost ran into Feldspar on the stair.
'You've heard about Master Wintertide?' Feldspar asked, then read the answer in his face. 'Oh Fyn, I'm so sorry.'
Fyn only nodded. He found Feldspar's honest sympathy hard to bear and had to clear his throat before he could speak. 'I'm going to the preserving chamber.'
'You'll never get in. The healers won't even let the mystics see how they prepare a body for Halcyon's Heart.'
'I just want to be sure Master Wintertide's body has been delivered,' Fyn explained. Once the master's body was with the healers, Springmelt wouldn't be able to hide anything without someone knowing.
He went up two floors to the healers' chambers, meaning to slip inside and ask someone if it was too late to say good-bye to Master Wintertide's body. If it was, he would be safely in the sacred preservation chamber. But Springmelt must have been watching for him and was blocking the entrance.
'Where's the healers master?' Fyn asked.
'He is too busy to see an acolyte, even if the acolyte is Fyn Kingson.' Springmelt said, making 'Kingson' an insult.
'Has Master Wintertide's body been brought in for preservation?'
'Of course,' Springmelt snapped. Fyn glanced past him, trying to see if this was true. Springmelt moved to obscure his view. 'But you can't go in. Even I'm not allowed into the sacred preserving chamber.'
That was good news. Master Wintertide's body would be preserved before it was placed in Halcyon's Sacred Heart with the other dead masters.
Springmelt smirked. 'If you want to do something useful, pray Halcyon finds a place for Wintertide in her eternal garden.'
'I will.'
But Fyn planned to do something much more useful. He went straight to Master Catillum's private chamber, only to learn that he was in a meeting with all the masters. Fyn knew they would have to select a new boys master, but did they have to do it so soon? Who would they recommend to the abbot? He imagined all the masters sitting around a table putting forwards candidates from the ranks of Wintertide's assistants. The balance of power depended on who became boys master. He shivered, knees weak.
Sinking onto the step of Catillum's chamber, Fyn rested his forehead in his hands. The bell hadn't even rung for mid-morning prayers and he was already exhausted.
What should he do? He was only one acolyte, a soft-hearted coward who hated to see anyone hurt. He should leave the abbey now. Right now. It would be so easy to go down to the kitchens, steal some food then and away…
But he could not forget Wintertide's kindness. His old master deserved better. Lonepine deserved better.
'Fyn, what are you doing on my door step?' Master Catillum asked.
He stood up, his decision made. 'I have something to tell you, something that can't be said out here.'
For a moment he thought the crippled master would send him away, then he sighed. 'I suppose I had better hear it.'
Safely inside, Fyn unburdened himself to Catillum. '…so Hotpool could only have known that Wintertide died of a heart attack if he administered the poison which caused it. Springmelt gave him the poison. I'm sure of it. All the abbot has to do is insist the healers master test Master Wintertide's body. Then you can offer to skim the minds of those who saw Wintertide in the last day and — '
Master Catillum shook his head reluctantly.
'What? Why not?'
'The masters are walled. I could not break their walls without breaking their minds.'
'Springmelt — '
'Is their one weakness. But if it looks like we are about to move on them, Springmelt will have an accident. And besides, there is another flaw in your plan to expose the poisoners.'
'And what is it?'
'The healers master supports Firefox. If we ask him to do the tests he won't find poison.'
'But… but we can't let them get away with Master Wintertide's murder!'
'No, we can't.' Catillum straightened his shoulders. 'I had hoped it would not come to this.' He saw Fyn did not understand. 'I can test for poison. But first I'll have my most trusted assistants kidnap Springmelt until we need him. If I can prove it was poison and that they stooped to poisoning a master, I'll discredit Firefox before all the other masters. Some will change sides, weakening him. But I'll need your help to prove it was poison.'
'Anything.'
'Be careful what you promise.' He smiled sadly. 'It will take three days to prepare the body. They must do it correctly or that would raise suspicion. I must test Master Wintertide's heart. We won't be able to go near him until he is safely in Halcyon's care in her Sacred Heart…' His black eyes held Fyn. 'Only the abbot has the key. When we all go down there to commend Wintertide's soul into the goddess's care, I'll leave something wedged in the doorway so you can follow us. '
'But it is forbidden for anyone except masters to enter.' Fyn came to his feet. 'If I am caught, I'll face death.'
Catillum nodde
d. 'And I can't save you. I can only move against Firefox once I have proof.'
Fyn sank onto a stool.
'If you don't wish to do this, I'll understand.'
'No.' Fyn looked up, meeting the master's eyes. 'I'll do it.'
'Good. I can draw you a plan of the passages. You have three days to memorise it.'
Three days to regret he had volunteered for this. Three days to wish he'd run away before Wintertide's death.
Chapter Twenty-Four
By mid-afternoon Piro's strength had failed. Only determination kept her going. She wished she had taken after her father. Then she'd be at least as tall as Orrade. She had seen the armour her namesake, Queen Pirola the Fierce, had worn into battle. Now there was a woman, able to hold her own.
Exhausted, Piro caught herself slipping into a sleepwalking state and experienced a kind of double vision, as the last night's dreams came back to her. With a jolt she realised she had dreamed this right now… dreamed of stumbling through a snow-shrouded forest trying to escape manticores, with Byren bringing up the rear. She almost tripped.
'Do you need a break, Piro?' Garzik helped her up, too tired to tease.
'No.' She made herself go even faster. In her dream it had seemed they ran for ever but soon they would reach the lake, and then they would have to go either left or right and hope to find a tradepost before nightfall.
The fight with Elina had driven the dream from her thoughts but now it was clear, the dream had been a true foretelling. Did that mean that her recurring dream of wyverns stalking through Rolenhold was likely to come true? Hadn't the mystics mistress said that seers saw many possible futures, which made interpreting them difficult?
'There's one good thing about the manticore pride,' Byren muttered.
'What's that?' Orrade asked over his shoulder.
'Scare off the ulfr pack!'
'Ulfrs?' Piro echoed, happy to be distracted.
Byren nodded. 'Saw old signs of them yesterday. Probably the same pack we had a run-in with.'
'Pity,' Garzik panted. Piro was pleased to see that talking and walking at this pace was almost too much for him. 'I would have liked to get that leader's pelt!'
'Nah, that one was mine,' Byren insisted.
They laughed and Piro laughed along with them, but she did not understand how they could boast when their lives hung in the balance.
Orrade trudged on. At the top of the very next rise he stopped. 'Eh, Byren, you were right. We're just where I thought we'd be!'
Piro stopped focusing on her feet and lifted her weary head. They were high enough to see the lake, its icy surface gleaming through the tree trunks.
Byren pointed. 'And, if I'm not mistaken, Narrowneck tradepost is just around that bend.'
Now Piro knew where she was. Narrowneck was built on a finger of land that projected into Lake Sapphire. True to its name, it was narrow where it joined the land and bounded by cliffs. At one point, ladders could be lowered down to a small beach on the lake. A solid, three-storey tradepost was built there. Busy in peak times, it would be nearly empty now.
'Keeper Narrows will open his doors for us,' Byren declared. 'Though he won't be happy to hear we've drawn a pride of manticores down on him and his family!'
Narrowneck tradepost. Piro fixed this goal in her mind and kept moving, but distances were deceptive and the day dragged on.
Byren increased his pace. It was almost dusk. A steady wind blew into their faces, driving their scent towards the manticores. The pride could travel far in one day and were sure to be close on their trail now. He didn't want to be torn to shreds only a few bow shots from safety.
'At last!' Garzik muttered.
Byren looked up. There was the wooden palisade. Thirty years ago it had kept Narrowneck safe from the Merofynians. Now it wasn't even enough to keep the manticores out. Rolencia had grown complacent.
'We can shut the gate,' Piro said as they stepped through the opening. 'Keep them out.'
Byren reached over, grabbed a strip of wood and pulled on it. It splintered in his hand. 'Not going to keep anything out.'
'Close it anyway,' Orrade said, dragging the gate shut. It had come off one hinge; snow fell off the top and dusted his shoulders.
Byren turned to face the path up through the trees. 'Come on. Not far now.'
Piro's face was pinched with exhaustion, but she did not complain as she struggled to keep up with him. He'd do anything to keep her safe.
The thud of an axe reverberated through the woods. Byren made for it. There was safety in numbers and he had to warn the axe man about the manticores.
'This way.' He broke into a run, hearing the others puff along behind him. A deep bark was followed by more. Their approach had been detected.
Thud… thud.
The axe stopped. Suddenly, he'd arrived in a clearing on the spine of Narrowneck. Three huge wolfhounds stood in front of a boy of about nine summers and the tall youth who had been swinging the axe.
The dogs growled a warning, the noise reverberating in their deep chests.
'Get behind me, Leif,' the youth said. No, it was a girl, a handsome, very tall girl. No wonder she swung the axe like a man. Then he remembered hearing traders talk of Old Man Narrow's daughter, who believed she was any man's equal.
'You can stay right there,' she told Byren, while the boy scurried behind her.
The growling rose another pitch.
'Manticores,' Byren panted. 'A whole pride on our trail.'
'Manticores this far into the valley? Are you sure?' She sounded doubtful, almost scornful. The three wolfhounds went quiet, but remained wary.
'Took one of our horses and frightened the others off.' Byren indicated the rest of his party, who were bent double behind him, catching their breath. 'We've had to do a forced march to get here. Must warn Old Man Narrows.'
'Da's gone to see — '
'Hush, Leif.' The girl's cheeks flamed because, with that one slip, he'd revealed their vulnerability.
Byren understood her problem. It seemed she was alone with her younger brother and three wolfhounds, and his party composed of three men and Piro, who could be mistaken for a boy in her thick travelling gear.
'Then it is just the six of us to hold off the manticores,' Byren said. 'We've got to get inside and make the tradepost secure.' But he did not move, waiting for her to call off the dogs.
A thudding echoed through the trunks, followed by the splintering of wood. The boy reached for his sister's hand. 'What — '
'It's the manticores breaking down the palisade gate,' Orrade said. 'They're only a few minutes behind us.'
'This way, quickly.' The girl turned, grabbed her brother's arm and made off briskly.
Byren hurried to catch up. He could just see the tradepost's top floor peeping above the tree canopy. She easily matched his long loping stride, axe casually slung over her shoulder. 'You think they'll approach the house? Manticores usually — '
'They've come down this far into the valley and they're a large pride, with five cubs to feed,' Byren said. 'They'll need food — '
'Run ahead to the barn, Leif,' the girl interrupted him. 'Take Crusher and Queenie. Put the chickens in and bar the barn door.'
They were on the path to the tradepost now. He caught glimpses of it through the trunks, its ornate roofline silhouetted against the pearl-shell sky.
Stepping out of the trees, they approached the building. It was three storey's high. Built entirely of wood without a single nail, every join dovetailed into the next. The wood crafters had decorated every surface with intertwining floral and animal motifs. No lights burned in any of the windows. Only a thin wisp of smoke came from one of the chimneys.
'You're alone,' Byren said. 'I'm sorry I brought these manticores down on you.'
'Aye. I'm alone with little Leif. Father's gone to see his sister. Took poorly, she did. Come on.' The girl ran across the open space from the tree line to the building, diverting away from the front entrance where the tap
room was, to go around to a side entrance across from the barn. There was no sign of her brother.
She flung the door open and called over her shoulder. 'Hurry up, Leif.'
'I'll help him,' Byren offered. 'Can you see to my sister? She's exhausted.'
The girl nodded and Byren sprinted into the barn, where Leif had already driven the chickens in. Crusher and Queenie came over to investigate him, so Byren offered his hand. The dogs' heads were level with his waist and their jaws could have easily crushed his hand.
'They're good dogs,' Leif said, hauling open a sack of chicken feed.
'Eh, not tonight, Leif. No time. Come on.' Byren grabbed the boy and together they barred the barn's doors. 'Is this the only way in?'
'I've barred the shutters as well.'
'Good lad.'
Byren backed across what would have been the busy stable yard, empty now of anything but their footprints in the snow. Crusher and Queenie went very still, barked twice then shivered and whimpered, slinking to their sides. Byren's mouth went dry. He scanned the tree line and the shadows between the outbuildings. He couldn't spot the manticores, but he knew they were there. Heart racing, he reached for his hunting knife. His hand felt slick on the hilt. Why was it that when he needed a bow he only had a knife?
Because he didn't want to walk around weighed down with weapons.
He heard Leif swing the tradepost door open. The boy and the dogs darted through. Byren followed, closing it behind him. The boy grinned up at him and Byren couldn't help grinning back. Even the dogs grinned.
It was dark in the hall, but a welcoming glow came from under a door further along. The smell of roast lamb and oregano made his stomach rumble. He could hear voices.
'This way,' Leif said.
Byren found the others in the kitchen, where Leif's sister was putting out plates while Piro sliced fresh bread and Garzik poured ales. Orrade had made friends with the other wolfhound, which was crunching on a bone in front of the huge oven.
'Byren, thank the goddess!' Piro greeted him. 'I wasn't sure we'd make it.'
He was glad he hadn't revealed his own doubts.
'Who says we're safe?' the girl countered.
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