King Breaker (37 page)

Before she could move, a wind shear slammed into the ship, and the mainmast snapped with a loud
crack
. Canvas and tangled ropes fell across the deck, trailing in the sea as the deck tilted alarmingly to starboard.

Piro clutched Bantam, horrified.

‘Go inside!’ he barked, running across the deck.

Other sea-hounds joined him as they tried to cut the damaged sails free. The ship had reached the valley between the waves now, and the nose began to rise, but the drag of the fallen rigging made the ship list badly. Instead of the ship’s prow cutting cleanly into the sea as she climbed the wave, a single large wave rolled in from starboard, sweeping sailors off their feet.

An unconscious sailor was carried towards Piro. She just had time to slam the door shut behind her to prevent seawater pouring into the cabins.

Icy cold water swirled around her knees and up to her thighs. Gasping, she clasped the rope and tried to grab the sailor with her free arm. The stunned sailor collided with her just as a flash of lightning revealed his pale face. Cormorant.

In desperation, Piro hooked her legs around him, and the rope sagged with their combined weight. Now she was shoulder-deep in seawater. The wave hit the cabin wall then the water began to wash back as it poured off the deck. This time the water was so high, it went right over the ship’s side.

It streamed past her with such force it almost tore her hands from the rope and the sailor from her legs. She prayed he would not drown as water boiled around them. Someone shouted, and she felt the deck rise as the damaged rigging was shoved overboard.

By the time the ship crested the peak of the wave, the last of the water had poured off the deck. She blinked wet hair from her eyes and found herself hanging from the rope with the sailor slumped against her. It was impossible to tell if he was alive or dead.

The ship headed down into another wave trough. She didn’t know if she could hold onto him for much longer, but when she tried to call for help her teeth chattered so badly that she couldn’t speak. Luckily, Bantam spotted her and came to take Cormorant.

Big arms lifted her, peeling her chilled hands from the rope. She thanked Jakulos and turned to Bantam, who had his ear to the youth’s chest. ‘Is he—’

‘Alive,’ Bantam reported. ‘Barely.’

Her knees nearly gave way, and she would have fallen but for Jakulos. She felt the ship shudder as it reached the trough between waves and she had to brace herself again.

Bantam passed the unconscious sea-hound to Jakulos, who threw Cormorant over his shoulder and shoved Piro towards the cabin door. Somehow, her frozen fingers managed the door latch, and then she closed it behind them as Jakulos carried the unconscious sailor down the passage to the cabin, where he tipped the youth onto the floor by the brazier.

‘Mulcy girl.’ Jakulos cupped her cheek, wet calloused palm rasping against her skin. ‘See to the lad.’

Now that they were in the heated cabin, Cormorant’s head was beginning to bleed. She bound his wound, but before long another injured sailor arrived; and all because she’d tricked Bantam into sailing for Rolencia.

Orrade would have said she hadn’t caused the storm, so she wasn’t at fault. That didn’t stop her feeling responsible for the fate of the ship. If she hadn’t tricked Bantam, they would all be sitting safe on Ostron Isle’s Ring Sea right now. Instead they battled the storm. Every time the ship’s nose struggled to rise, she feared a wave of water would swallow the sea-hound vessel whole.

And still the storm went on.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

F
YN SLUNG HIS
travelling bag over one shoulder and climbed the gangplank to board Dunstany’s yacht. Yorale, Neiron and Wythrod had already sailed across the Landlocked Sea to gather their men.

Once aboard, a servant offered to escort Fyn to his lordship.

‘Don’t worry, I can find him.’ Fyn followed the sound of Dunsany’s voice down the passage.

Dunstany looked up as he stepped into the cabin. ‘I’ve told the servants, the abbess can share the queen’s cabin and the abbot can share with Captain Elrhodoc. I suppose you’ll have to bunk in here with me. But I’m having the bed. These old bones won’t give me any rest if I sleep on the floor.’ He gestured to a servant, who was putting his clothing in a chest. ‘Leave that. See that the bedding is changed in my old cabin. The queen doesn’t want to rest her head where an old man has slept.’

The servant nodded and scurried away.

‘How do you do it?’ Fyn whispered. ‘How do you play Lord Dunstany without slipping?’

‘Habit. I’ve been Dunstany for so long...’ Siordun shrugged. ‘To tell the truth, I’m more comfortable as him than as the mage’s apprentice. He was just an unwanted boy who grew up on Dunistir Estate. You saw how the lords responded to Dunstany. They respect him. They would never acknowledge Dunstany’s bastard grandson.’

Fyn had seen the way Elrhodoc treated Captain Aeran. But... ‘A man should be valued for his worth, not his birth.’

‘So says King Rolen’s legitimate son.’

Fyn flushed.

Siordun rose to his feet. ‘I’m glad you’re here. I’ve had word from Rolencia. Cobalt is to marry Piro.’

‘What? When did Piro return to Rolencia?’

‘She didn’t. I’m guessing Cobalt has learnt that Byren defeated Palatyne, and he needs a way to legitimise his claim on the throne.’

‘So he hired some doxy to play Piro?’ Fyn was outraged. ‘Surely someone will denounce him?’

‘Fear will silence anyone who knew Piro.’

‘This is terrible.’

‘Not necessarily. I told Orrade to seek out my Rolencian agent. She’ll help Byren to rescue the girl.’

‘You’re not going to tell him that the real Piro is safe?’

‘If he thinks he’s saving the real Piro, he’ll react with genuine surprise and outrage when he discovers Cobalt’s deception.’ Siordun met Fyn’s eyes. ‘Byren is a good man, but he’s not...’

‘Not what?’

‘Not devious.’

‘That’s why he has Orrie.’

Siordun grinned. ‘Byren’s no actor. It’s much better if he reacts with righteous indignation on discovering Cobalt’s duplicity. Unmasking the false-Piro will unmask Cobalt for the manipulative liar he is, in front of the most powerful nobles and merchants in Rolencia. The wedding will be Byren’s chance to destroy the usurper’s credibility.’

‘...and win back Rolencia without a costly battle. Excellent. How do you do it?’

‘Years of experience, lad.’

Fyn laughed. Siordun was only a few years older than Byren. The iron-haired old man was an illusion. Then he told Siordun about the footpad attack. ‘Could they have been coraxes, hired by Cobalt? Could the mage speak to—’

‘The mage has a long and troubled relationship with House Nictocorax. Some of its leaders have aided him when it suited them, while others... I wouldn’t put it past the current Lady Death to accept a commission from Cobalt. We’ll both have to be on our guard. Wait here.’ He left the cabin and returned shortly with a walking stick. ‘I think it is time Lord Dunstany resorted to a cane.’

‘You already have your staff.’

‘My enemies know that Dunstany focuses power through his staff. But they will leave an old man his walking stick. I might have to cultivate a feeble walk, but this is no ordinary cane!’

With a grin, Siordun revealed a sword from within the cane, which he flourished. Fyn held out his hand, but there was a knock at the door.

Siordun sheathed the sword cane then leant on it. ‘Can’t an old man get any rest? Enter.’

A servant opened the door. ‘Begging your pardon, my lord. Lord Cadmor’s grandson, Captain Camoric, to see you.’

The captain who had let the Utlanders escape walked into Lord Dunstany’s cabin. Camoric was no older than Byren, and he moved stiffly as if annoyed.

‘My grandfather said I should meet you, Lord Dunstany.’ His tone said he didn’t see why.

‘You should meet Lord Protector Merofyn, too.’ Dunstany indicated Fyn.

As Camoric turned stiffly towards Fyn, he saw the reason behind the captain’s unusual stance. Livid red blisters covered his lower jaw and neck. From the way he held his right arm, the burns probably covered his shoulder as well.

Fyn had mistaken pain for anger. He gestured to Camoric’s injury. ‘Your grandfather told us you were burnt, but he said you’d be all right.’

‘And so I shall.’ Camoric frowned. ‘It’s worse than it looks.’

‘I very much doubt that,’ Dunstany said. ‘Come here, lad.’

Camoric bristled. ‘I’m nearly twenty, and I’ve been captaining a ship since I was sixteen.’

‘When you get to my age, anyone under fifty is a lad.’

Camoric grinned, then winced.

Settling himself on the chest at the end of the bed, Dunstany gestured. ‘Kneel down and save an old man’s back.’

While the young captain knelt, Dunstany asked Fyn to bring a lamp. Then he turned Camoric towards the light. ‘I take it the burns continue under your shirt?’

Camoric nodded. As Dunstany unwound the bandage, Camoric’s breathing became laboured. The blisters made Fyn shudder.

‘Do you have a salve?’ Camoric’s voice was strained.

‘Yes,’ Dunstany said. ‘But first I’ll help you heal faster. You’ll still have scars. I fear complete repair is beyond me.’

‘You think I care about scars?’

‘You need to relax before I can help. Light the starkiss incense, Fyn.’

He brought the burner over and fanned the incense towards the young captain.

‘Inhale deeply,’ Dunstany advised.

Camoric did as instructed. After a few moments, the grim lines around his mouth eased and his pupils grew large.

Dunstany gestured for Fyn to extinguish the incense. ‘We don’t want to become befuddled.’

‘Are you trying to confuse me?’ Camoric asked, but his voice held only the memory of its former bite.

‘No,’ Dunstany said. ‘I don’t want to confuse myself.’

‘Speaking of tricking people...’ Camoric gestured to Fyn. ‘King Cobalt will wish he’d kept his mouth shut.’

‘Why?’ Fyn asked.

‘He burned your body in Rolenton Square,’ Camoric said. ‘Heard it today in port. Sailors thought it a great joke. Cobalt’ll kick himself when he hears you’re lord protector now.’

‘Cobalt declared me dead?’ Fyn was amused by this turn of events.

‘Can’t have two Fyns,’ Camoric said.

‘You lay low for so long, Cobalt must have thought it safe to produce a body and declare you dead,’ Dunstany said. ‘He’s tripped himself with his lies. Now put the burner away.’

As Fyn did so, he sensed the surge of Affinity and heard a
thud
. He turned to find that Camoric had slumped forward and went to help, but the bay lord’s grandson was already lifting his head.

Camoric moved his arm gingerly, then more fluidly. ‘It doesn’t hurt anymore.’ He glanced over to Fyn. ‘By Mulcibar’s balls, it hurt like hell before.’

‘I’m sure it did.’

Dunstany rubbed his neck. ‘I’ve exhausted myself. There’s some salve in my chest, Fyn. Give it to the young captain and see that he gets home safely.’

‘Don’t bother yourself. I can...’ Camoric struggled to his feet, swayed and nearly toppled. ‘Mebbe I do need some help.’

Fyn found the salve and slipped it in the captain’s pocket. ‘Come along.’

As he helped Camoric from Dunstany’s yacht, the young captain told him, ‘You’re not so bad after all.’ He frowned. ‘Did I say anything stupid?’

‘Not at all,’ Fyn said. ‘Let’s get you safely home. We hope to sail by midnight.’

B
YREN WOKE TO
find the cabin filled with sunshine and no sign of Orrade. For one gut-wrenching moment, he thought he’d failed him, and his friend had become lost in Affinity visions. Then he heard Orrade in the privy. Byren sat up to inspect his knee. The swelling had gone down, leaving the grey-purple of old bruises. He flexed his leg gingerly. It was still tender, but healing well.

Orrade returned. ‘How’s the leg?’

Byren stood with care. ‘So long as I don’t try to do too much, I should be alright.’

He slid into the seat across from Orrade, and his stomach rumbled as he took in the preserves, cold meat and watered-wine. Byren reached for a chicken leg. Orrade reached for the bread, his other hand fumbling for the knife.

‘You’re blind!’ Shame and anger filled Byren. ‘Why didn’t you warn me you risked losing your sight? I would never have—’

‘I didn’t know.’ Orrade cut an uneven slice of bread. ‘It’s not as bad as the first time and besides, the blind patches never last long.’

‘It’s happened more than once?’

Orrade nodded, then felt around until he found the cheese.

‘Here, give me your plate.’ Byren slapped some pickles on the bread and added cheese, placing the food in Orrade’s hand. ‘I wish you’d told me.’

Orrade shrugged. ‘I’ll be right by the time we reach Rolenton.’

‘Of course you will,’ Byren told him. ‘Turns out you didn’t need to worry about getting lost in your visions...’

Orrade went still for a heartbeat, then kept eating.

‘So you did have a vision. What did you see?’

‘Fire. Everything burned.’

‘A nightmare,’ Byren said. ‘After the way your father’s great house went up in flames, it’s no wonder.’

Orrade nodded, but he didn’t seem so sure.

Chapter Thirty

F
YN STEPPED AROUND
several servants as they returned Nevantir Estate’s crest to its original position above the central hearth in the great hall. He walked past more servants, hauling a new chandelier into position. Everywhere he looked, people were cleaning up or making repairs. They worked feverishly, as if determined to remove all sign that the estate had ever been in spar hands.

The sound of shattering glass made everyone jump, and Fyn turned to see some carpenters removing the shards from one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that opened out onto the terrace.

‘Careful there,’ Dunstany said, prodding the broken glass with his sword cane.

Through the empty windows, across the grass, partially shielded by a copse of birch trees, Fyn could see the smoking remains of the dead raiders. The barbarian invaders had not been accorded a proper funeral.