King Breaker (7 page)

No sound came from behind the screen.

‘Kingsdaughter?’

Florin peered over the screen. No sign of the girl or her clothes. With a curse, Florin darted into the hall. If the chambermaid had panicked and fled, she would need her things.

Florin ran to the female servants’ chamber, throwing the door open. A cheap, painted statuette of Goddess Halcyon sat on a stool by one of the pallet beds, where an old woman lay. A votive candle burned, illuminating the statuette, the old woman and, in the far corner, the girl. Seeing Florin, she gave a squeak of fright and clutched her bundle to her chest.

‘Are you mad?’ Florin whispered, furious. ‘Leave your things and come with me.’

The girl did not release the bundle. In fact, she glanced over Florin’s shoulder as if contemplating flight.

Florin strode over. ‘Here, give me that.’ She took the bundle, dropping it onto the bed.

‘Leave her be,’ Old Mirona croaked.

‘She ran from her post,’ Florin said, sending the girl a warning look. ‘The castle-keep will be ever so angry.’

‘Eh, you can’t do that, Varuska.’ Old Mirona shook her head. ‘Back to work with you. You’ll be lucky to escape with only a tongue lashing.’

‘But—’

‘But nothing,’ Florin said quickly. ‘Varuska, that’s your name?

The girl nodded. ‘Ruska for short. But—’

‘Come on.’ Florin drew Varuska out into the hall, where she confronted her. ‘You’re lucky I was the one who came after you. What were you thinking?’

‘His lordship scares me. I want to go home. I don’t want—’

‘It doesn’t matter what you want. Cobalt’s got it into his head that you’ll do for Piro and that’s it.’

‘Ask Anatoley to play Piro. She’d like to be a kingsdaughter. It was her idea to come to the castle.’

‘Anatoley’s your sister?’

Varuska nodded.

Florin considered this. ‘She’s the right size and age, but she doesn’t look enough like Piro. Not like you do.’ The resemblance was uncanny. Right down to mannerisms.

‘Can’t I just go home?’ Varuska tugged on Florin’s arm, trying to slip from her grip. ‘I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I don’t want to marry Lord Cobalt. He smiles, but when he touches me I feel cold inside. Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone.’

‘If you ran, I’d be in trouble.’

‘We could both run.’

‘Not yet.’ Florin smiled as Varuska’s eyes widened. The girl was quick. ‘I’ll get you out of the castle, I promise, but there’s something I must do first.’

‘You’ll get me out? What about Anatoley?’

‘Cobalt’s sending your sister home tonight,’ Florin reminded her. ‘Play along for now. Come on. We need to go back before they realise you tried to run.’ And she drew the girl along the corridor.

‘You’re right.’ Varuska had to take two steps for each of Florin’s. ‘If they think I’m going to run, they’ll set a guard on me.’

‘Exactly. You’re smart.’

‘No one’s ever called me smart before.’ Varuska paused to look up at Florin. ‘Only pretty.’

‘It doesn’t pay to let them know you’re smart. So pretend to be eager for pretty dresses and jewels. Make sure they underestimate you.’

Varuska’s eyes widened. ‘You’re clever.’

Maybe, but was she clever enough to outwit Cobalt, kill him and ensure Varuska escaped alive? Florin licked dry lips. ‘Come on.’

They slipped into the chamber. To Florin’s relief it was empty. ‘Quick, off with your things and into the tub. You should be almost finished by now.’

Varuska tore off her servant’s cap and gown. Like all girls of her class, she wore no knickers. Useless things.

The sound of the castle-keep’s footsteps reached them.

‘Into the tub.’ Florin guided her in then poured a bucket of water over the girl’s hair. She grabbed some scented soap and began massaging it into Varuska’s scalp. By the time the castle-keep walked in the door, Florin had worked up a good lather.

‘What, not finished yet?’ The castle-keep’s lips pursed in disapproval. ‘This will never do. Rinse her hair.’ She draped a vivid blue gown over a chair. ‘There’s a gown, jewels and beaded slippers. Bathe her, then dry her hair by the fire. Use this head-dress.’ She indicated a little cap inlaid with silver chains and gleaming stones that might have been diamonds. ‘I can’t stay. I have work to do.’ With a sniff, she was gone.

As Florin helped Varuska out of the tub, the girl caught her hand. ‘Will you take a message to my sister? She’ll be worried if they send her home without me.’

Florin hesitated.

‘Please?’

‘It will have to be later tonight. Now let’s get you dry.’

Florin helped Varuska dress in Piro’s gown. There seemed to be an inordinate amount of under garments—lacy pantaloons that came down to her knees, a chemise, two petticoats—and then the blue gown that did up under her breasts.

When it was laced, Florin sat Varuska by the fire to comb her long dark hair. It was almost dry by the time Cobalt returned with Amil.

The lord’s empty sleeve had been pinned up. He wore a coat the same shade of blue as Varuska’s gown, which Florin now realised was the Cobalt Estate’s colour. His coat was tapered at the waist. Knee-high boots, tight trews that moulded to his strong thighs and a hand’s span of lace at this throat and cuffs completed his outfit. When he turned his head, the long curls glinted; his hair had been threaded with jewels.

‘Let me see you, Piro.’ Cobalt spoke sweetly, but it was still a command.

Varuska turned around, looking back over her shoulder. The stance was coquettish, but her expression was earnest.

‘Good. The dress is a perfect fit. Amil, do her hair,’ Cobalt said. ‘Take note, Leif. This will be your task.’

The Ostronite manservant used a heated metal tong to create long ringlets. ‘A few more pins.’ He completed his work with the girl’s hair. ‘Now the zircon cap.’

He pinned the cap, letting the chains and zircons fall to Varuska’s shoulders. Florin could not see the difference between diamonds and zircons.

‘Lovely.’ But Cobalt’s eyes did not light up with the hunger of desire. ‘Show her how to respond to the dinner guests, Amil.’

‘These guests,’ the manservant said, acting the part of a proud noble, ‘they are beneath you. You are a kingsdaughter. You tilt your head so and smile just a little. You keep your hand on your lord’s arm and answer everyone with no more than a nod.’

The girl listened earnestly. Varuska was lucky, Florin decided. Few people would look past her pretty face.

‘Very well. Until we polish the rough edge off your tongue, you’ll keep your mouth shut.’ Cobalt offered his arm.

Varuska took it as she had been instructed.

‘Very good.’ The lord turned her to face Florin. ‘This is Lord Leif, greet him as you’ve been taught.’

‘Lord Leif,’ Varuska murmured, inclining her head.

‘Excellent, cousin, we will deal well together.’ Cobalt kissed her hand. Florin saw Varuska shudder. His lordship must have put it down to excitement, because he squeezed her fingers. ‘Good girl. Come.’

Varuska hesitated.

‘Do not fear. I will be at your side and Amil and Leif will be right behind us. For all that Amil knows how to dress hair, he is a corax of House Nictocorax. Ahh, from your expression you have heard of Ostron Isle’s assassins. So you see, you need fear nothing while he is with us.’

A trained assassin? Florin would never have guessed. She expected an Ostronite assassin to be sinister. Although, now that she thought about it, an assassin stood a better chance of getting near their prey if they appeared harmless, and she had certainly underestimated Amil.

So, Florin was there when Cobalt introduced the false Piro and everyone applauded her miraculous escape. She was there when he announced they were to be married on midsummer’s day.

And not one person denounced the imposter.

Chapter Six

G
ARZIK LOOKED THROUGH
the pages until he found a picture of a ship, then he wrote the Utland word for
ship
and a sentence about it. ‘Try this.’

‘Ship,’ Rusan read then frowned as he sounded out the words. ‘Captain Rusan sails his ship upon the Stormy Sea.’

Garzik nodded. ‘Very good.’

The Utland captain pointed to the book’s original text. ‘Why can’t I read these words?’

‘I thought you wanted to learn to read and write in your own language.’

‘What’s the point when there are no books?’

‘You could write the stories of your people.’

‘Who would read them?’ Rusan countered. ‘Why do you think I made you promise to tell no one? Reading and writing are hot-land skills.’

And Utlanders despised the hot-landers, as they called Garzik’s people.

Yet the captain wanted to learn to read and write. Everything Garzik had been taught about Utlanders had proven to be inaccurate. Yes, they were savage, but only because they had to survive in the savage Utland Isles.

‘You hesitate?’ Rusan bristled. ‘Do you think because I’m an Utlander I won’t be able to—’

‘I was wondering which language to teach you.’ Garzik indicated the page. ‘I chose this book because it was made for the children of nobles and rich merchants to teach them the three languages of the hot-lands. This is the Rolencian word for ship, then the Merofynian word and finally the Ostronite. Which language do you want to learn?’

Rusan frowned. ‘Which is most useful?’

Garzik thought about it. ‘Ostronite is the trading tongue.’

‘Then I’ll learn it.’

‘While learning to read and write in your own tongue as well?’

The Utland captain shrugged. ‘Why not?’

Garzik grinned. Rusan was smart; maybe as smart as Garzik’s brother, Orrade. Thinking of his old life made Garzik’s stomach tighten with frustration. He should be helping Byren win back Rolencia, yet here he was, tutor to an Utland captain. But he hadn’t started out here.

He’d been a prisoner of war, a seven-year slave, sent to Merofynia to serve Lord Travany. He’d come a long way since the Utlanders captured Travany’s ship with its Rolencian war booty and made him their slave, but he was still no closer to going home.

‘Captain?’ Young Luvrenc tapped on the cabin door.

Rusan slipped off the window seat, lifted the lid and hid the book along with Garzik’s ink and nib. There was no desk. The cabin had been stripped right back to lighten the captured merchant ship.

‘What is it?’ Rusan called.

‘Lookout spotted sails.’

‘It better be a lone ship,’ Rusan muttered as he made for the door.

Since leaving their settlement, the Utlanders hadn’t made a capture. They’d seen plenty of ships returning from Rolencia laden with stolen riches, but they hadn’t dared attack, not when the merchant vessels were protected by sleek sea-hound ships, full of fierce fighting men.

Luvrenc fell into step with Garzik, hand on his sword hilt, witchy Utland eyes shining with excitement. ‘With any luck it’ll be a merchant ship travelling alone!’

As the newest crew member, he had yet to prove himself. Thirteen to Garzik’s fifteen, Luvrenc seemed even younger.

Luvrenc followed Garzik onto the high reardeck but he didn’t approach the captain and his half-brother.

Garzik did. He’d won his freedom and the brothers’ trust, helping to defend their settlement the night Captain Vultar and his renegades attacked.

Olbin handed Rusan the farseer. ‘I can’t spot the sails.’

Rusan braced his legs and lifted the farseer to his eyes as the stolen merchant ship plunged through the waves on a southern heading, timbers creaking, ropes singing. The wind stirred the captain’s long black hair and beard, rattling the wyvern teeth plaited through it.

The first time Garzik had seen a wyvern-cloaked Utland captain, he’d thought the man a barbarian. But after Rusan had single-handedly killed a wyvern to confirm his leadership of the captured ship, Garzik had understood what the Affinity beast trophies signified.

For all that Rusan was a captain and led nearly thirty men, he was younger than Byren. Troubled, Garzik fingered the hilt of his Utland short sword. Here he was, sworn to serve the Utland captain when he was already sworn to Byren.

His vow to Byren was of an earlier making; as soon as the opportunity arose, Garzik was going to betray Rusan and Olbin and go over to their enemy, the hot-landers.

‘See anything?’ Olbin asked.

‘Nothing.’ Rusan lowered the farseer with a grimace of frustration. Vultar and his renegades had stolen the settlement’s prized twin oracles and much-needed supplies. For the moment, Rusan could do nothing about the loss of the oracles, but he was desperate to replace their supplies. ‘The lookout’s imagining things.’

Olbin shook his head. ‘The men are getting restless.’

‘Would they rather I led them in a pointless attack and got them all killed?’

‘They’d rather you led them in a glorious attack and rewarded their bravery with riches. They don’t much care how you do it.’ Olbin grinned, then nudged Rusan. ‘Look at Wynn here, so eager to win a name for himself he can’t keep his hands off his blade!’

Garzik flushed. He was a fraud. He hadn’t even given them his real name. He’d been Wynn, short for Wyvern, ever since he’d woken and found himself captured by Merofynians. At first he hadn’t remembered his name; then, he’d been overcome with the shame of failing Byren.

The night the Merofynians had invaded, Byren had told him to light the warning beacon, but he’d been knocked out and captured. For a while he’d hoped to make up for his failure by spying, with the help of his fellow captive, Mitrovan. But the scribe had been sent to serve Lord Travany, while Garzik had remained on the ship to serve the surgeon. Then the ship had been captured and Rusan had claimed it for his own, taking him even further from Byren and his duty.

The man in the crow’s nest yelled again.

‘Not sails,’ Rusan said. ‘Sarres.’

Although Garzik had been quick to pick up the Utland tongue, this word was new to him and he looked to Olbin. The big Utlander slung an arm across his shoulders, guiding him to the starboard rail.

‘Sarres.’ He pointed behind the ship to a school of sleek silver fish. They skimmed the surface of the water, leaping into the air, wing-fins extended. ‘Affinity-blessed flying fish.’