The King's Bastard (16 page)

'I would be honoured, Uncle.'

Obviously pleased to see their cousin acknowledged and formally welcomed back into the family, Lence slung an arm around Illien's shoulder. 'A toast to Rolencia!'

As they refilled their cups Byren experienced a stab of intense emotion. It took a moment for him to realise it was jealousy and he dismissed it as unworthy.

'Ever killed a saltwater wyvern, Illien?' Lence asked.

'No, but the Elector of Ostron Isle has a pet one. It's all the fashion.'

'Eh, Ostron Isle! What'll they come up with next?' King Rolen rolled his eyes.

Lence launched into the tale of his first wyvern kill and Byren excused himself. He had to write to Elina, to let her know that Garzik was safe and Orrade had recovered his sight. Retreating to his chamber, he spent a long time over the ink well. He longed to beg Elina's forgiveness and make everything right between them, but he couldn't find the right words. So in the end he stuck to the facts, sealed the note and sent for a courier to take it to Dovecote.

Piro followed Fyn up the steep steps to Eagle Tower. The stairs had been built curving around the inner wall so that defenders could back up, shielding their bodies if the castle walls were ever breached. Not that they would be. Rolenhold had never been taken.

She concentrated on keeping up with Fyn's longer legs. Why couldn't she have been born tall and strong like her namesake? On top of the tower Fyn paced to the battlements and Piro joined him, glad of a chance to catch her breath. Silently, he looked down across the snow-covered Rolencian valley with its network of iced-over canals and streams linking the lakes, right across to Mount Halcyon and the abbey.

Now that he had her attention Fyn seemed to be having trouble getting started.

'That leogryf... no wonder father is proud of Byren,' Piro said. 'And he will be even prouder when you are welcomed into the weapons master's branch of the brotherhood. Why, one day you may be weapons master yourself!'

He glanced at her, then looked away, uncomfortable.

Her heart sank. 'What is it?'

'The weapons master already offered me a place in his ranks, but I turned him down.'

She stared at him, horrified. If King Rolen knew, he would be furious.

Fyn grimaced. 'I couldn't kill on order.'

She searched his face. Lence and Byren had no trouble leading raiding parties. 'I don't -'

Fyn sighed. 'I hate to see anyone hurt, even animals. I could never be a warrior.'

'Oh,' Piro whispered. She had never given much thought to the warriors her brothers killed or injured. Lence and Byren had always seemed so powerful, larger than life, like her father. Now, after seeing the leogryf and hearing how Byren killed it to save Lence's life, she grew fearful for them. 'But sometimes you have to kill or be killed.'

'I know. If anyone hurt you or mother I'd protect you,' Fyn muttered grimly. His obsidian eyes fixed on Piro and she caught a glimpse of the man he might become. It made her shiver. His voice softened and he was a worried youth again. 'But how could I kill men who are simply serving their warlord?'

Piro worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Fyn had always been kinder than the twins. It had never occurred to her that this could make his life harder. 'I don't know what to say. Father expects you to become weapons master so you can support Lence when he is king.'

'I know!' He was clearly frustrated and worried. 'I've been thinking and I see only one way out of this. When the masters make their selection from this year's acolytes, the mystics master must choose me.'

'It would be a great honour to be chosen for a mystic,' Piro said slowly. 'Not as useful to father or Lence, but -'

'So you see, tomorrow I must be first across the lake, first to find Halcyon's Fate, but only someone with great Affinity can find it and I'm... I barely registered when they tested me. I don't know what I'll do.' Desperation lent an edge to his voice.

Impulsively, Piro clutched his arm. 'You'll do it, Fyn, I know you will!'

He gave her a smile that said he appreciated her faith in him, even if it was misplaced.

Piro saw that she had to help him. For the first time since she'd developed Affinity she was glad she had it.

'Don't worry.' She squeezed his arm. 'Everything will turn out right tomorrow. Trust me.'

'Thanks, Piro.' He patted her hand as if she was too young to understand.

She bristled. She would be fourteen on Midsummer's Day.

'We'd better get back,' Fyn announced.

Still fuming, she followed him down to the great hall. The leogryf had been hauled away to be stuffed and mounted, and would join the other animals in the trophy chamber where it would be honoured as one of Halcyon's beasts.

Meanwhile King Rolen was holding the usual midwinter hearing. Four times a year he opened his hall to give ordinary Rolencians a chance to have their grievances heard and settled. Usually it was farmers disputing over fields or merchants arguing over shoddy goods.

Lence sat beside their father, being trained to follow in his footsteps. Byren stood behind their mother's chair, one arm resting on the high back. Funny, she hadn't seen it before but that was the way they were. Despite what he'd said about the leogryf, she knew her father favoured Lence and her mother adored Byren. As for her and Fyn, they were only spare heirs. And sometimes Piro suspected her mother thought she was more trouble than she was worth.

'I'd better get back to the monks,' Fyn whispered. 'Don't tell anyone.'

'Of course not.'

He headed towards the ranks of the monks but Piro hesitated. She knew she should join her mother and listen to the hearing. As a kingsdaughter she had to learn the intricacies of Rolencian law. Her mother knew it better than her father. But it was so boring. She had never understood how people could get irate over a few gold coins, or a field of corn. Maybe she would just slip quietly away.

'Pirola Rolen Kingsdaughter,' her mother called. Everyone turned. Piro wished she could sink through the floor. 'Come sit beside me. Listen and learn.'

She dared not disobey.

Piro took her seat at her mother's side. In the cleared space before the dais an old man and a youth of about fifteen were confronted by one of Halcyon's monks, who wore the umber robe of a village Affinity warder.

'By King Rolen's decree it is against the law to hide Untamed Affinity,' the warder announced. Piro stiffened. 'And isn't it written that everyone with Affinity must serve the church or risk becoming a channel for evil?'

The crowd nodded.

'And yet this man,' he pointed to the old farmer, 'this man has tried to deny the abbey his son!'

As people muttered under their breath, Piro swallowed and glanced down, noting how her mother's hands had tightened on the chair, until her knuckles showed white.

King Rolen cleared his throat. 'Is this true, Farmer Overhill?'

The old man dropped to his knees. 'I swear, King Rolen, Queen Myrella, my son's Affinity did not show until this year. I did not know.'

'Mystics master?'

A thin man of no more than forty stepped out of the ranks of monks, surprising Piro. The old master must have died since she saw him at winter cusp. Piro had noticed this mystic before because of his malformed arm which was hidden inside his robe. His shaved head gleamed with intricate tattoos revealing that he had attained the highest level of knowledge. To have been chosen as mystics master at so young an age, he had to be very gifted and dedicated. Piro was glad his attention wasn't focused on her.

'Affinity usually shows up by the age of six but it can remain dormant until puberty or some crisis triggers it. The boy should be in training,' the mystics master said. He caught the abbot's eye.

The old abbot spoke up. 'He can come back with us when we leave.'

The farmer lifted his hands pleadingly. 'If I send my only surviving child to the abbey, who will run my farm? I am too old to do the heavy work!'

'Send the son to the abbey!' yelled someone. 'We don't want untamed Affinity open to evil in our village.'

'Punish Overhill. He wasn't going to tell anyone about his son's Affinity. They've been hiding it!' yelled another. 'Banish him!'

Several voices echoed this eagerly.

Farmer Overhill moaned. His son tried to comfort him, but the men-at-arms held them apart.

Piro felt sorry for the farmer. She wanted to jump down there and order the men-at-arms off them. She glanced to her father.

'You know the law,' King Rolen said. 'Everyone with Affinity must serve the gods or risk becoming channels for evil. Unlike Merofynia, we won't allow renegade Power-workers to wander around stirring up trouble!'

People muttered under their breath in agreement. Rolencians had a low opinion of Merofynian customs, especially with regard to Affinity. Piro noticed her mother's tight lips. Her parents loved each other, but the role of Power-workers was the one thing they could not agree on.

Her mother leant closer to the king. 'If you banish the farmer you will have to reallocate his lands. The people from his village are far too eager to gain from his misfortune. If they had been more helpful he would not have been so desperate to keep his son with him.'

'Yet the son must go the abbey or be banished along with his father,' King Rolen whispered. 'I cannot ignore the law for anyone, not even you, my love.'

'Confiscate the farm!' the warlord of Leogryf Spar yelled. 'I would. No mercy for those who would hide Affinity.'

His sentiments were echoed by others.

King Rolen held up his hand for silence. Piro knew her father walked a narrow path. If he was too cruel, his own people would grow to hate him, yet if he was too lenient, his warlords would grow bold and raid Rolencia's rich valley. Word of the Utland raid on Port Cobalt had reached the spar warlords, which made King Rolen look weak. Ruling Rolencia was one long battle to keep the lawless elements under control.

'What do you think, kingsheir?' King Rolen asked.

'The law must be obeyed,' Lence said. 'Unless he serves the gods, the boy's choices are banishment or death. The old man is lucky you do not punish him for trying to hide his son's Affinity.'

King Rolen nodded. Piro felt sick to her stomach.

Muttering made her glance to the faces of Farmer Overhill's fellow villagers. She noticed the greedy gleam in their eyes. Her mother was right, they were too eager.

'But you can't send the boy to the abbey. There is no one to work the old man's farm. He'll starve!' she protested, only just remembering to keep her voice low.

'Quiet, Piro,' Lence snapped. 'The son has to go to the abbey. Without laws we are no better than the savages of the Utland Isles.'

From the corner of her eye, Piro noticed Byren shifting his weight. Abruptly, he leant forwards between their parents' chairs. 'Why not ask the abbot to send the gardening monks to help out on the farm during planting and harvesting? They could take most of the produce back to the abbey, and leave the old man enough to live on.'

Lence snorted. 'The old man won't last more than a couple of winters. What happens to the farm then?'

'At least he will have the winters in his own home,' Byren said. 'As to the farm, it is the son's inheritance. Let ownership go to the abbey once the old man is dead. When winters are hard the monks feed the needy. This way all Rolencia benefits, not just some greedy villagers.'

'Well said, Byren.' Queen Myrella placed her hand on the king's. 'Rolen?'

He nodded, stood and cleared his throat. 'Hear my judgement...'

Piro stopped listening. Though the judgement was fair, she felt hollow. People were so quick to turn on those with Affinity. It was fear that provoked it, fear of the Unseen and fear of how untamed Affinity left the god-touched person open to evil.

As she watched Farmer Overhill and his son being led away - the youth to the monks, the old man to his none-too-friendly fellow villagers - Piro vowed to hide her growing Affinity.

At least it was good for one thing, she could help Fyn find the Fate tomorrow.

Chapter Eight

Later that evening Byren could hear the familiar drinking song echoing up the stairwell from the great hall. By rights he should go down there and join the table where his brother sat, surrounded by the young men of Rolencia, but he hesitated. Had he sensed a growing antagonism in Lence or was he imagining it because of the seer's prediction?

This was ridiculous. He wished he had never met the old seer.

Had he acted differently since that day? Going over things, he was sure he hadn't. And he wouldn't!

Byren strode down the stairs.

Lence was in the midst of Rolenhold's young men, arm wrestling as they cheered him on. He sat at a table in front of the huge fireplace. Over this hung King Rolence the First's shield and sword, a symbol of his ancestors' long tradition of service to protect the kingdom, and the royal banner of Rolencia. Byren felt a surge of pride in his family's achievements.

'Ho, Byren,' his father called. 'Come take your turn. The best arm wrestler from Rolenhold is going to challenge the best of the warlords' men.'