The King's Bastard (65 page)

Orrade cursed, tore his arm free and shoved past.

Byren caught him by the jerkin, swung him up against the door and pressed his forearm to his throat. Orrade gasped, fingers prying at Byren's arm.

'She's m'sister!' he ground out.

'And I love her!'

'It's not right!'

Frustration swept through Byren. The gods knew, he would give his own life for Elina's if he had to. 'Would you let your own people down to save Elina? She wouldn't thank you.'

He gave Orrade a moment to digest this.

'I don't like it any better than you,' Byren admitted. 'But this is the right thing to do. I know it is.'

Even as the words left his mouth, he recalled the old seer's seemingly senseless babble about right being a matter of perception. Shocked, he released Orrade and stepped back. Who was he to say what was right? He shivered.

Orrade stared, as if he had never seen him before.

'Very well,' Byren told him. 'Do what you think is right.'

Orrade straightened his jerkin and went to grab the door latch. He hesitated, the struggle clear on his face. He agonised until, finally, the fight went out of him. 'Sylion take you, Byren!'

'May Sylion take Palatyne into his cold embrace,' Byren whispered. 'I'll see him dead before dawn.'

'That's no comfort for what Elina's going through,' Orrade snapped and again his hand went to the latch, but he stopped himself.

Unable to sit still, Byren paced. It was too cold to sit.

Palatyne was right, this was agony. No matter what his logical mind told him, he couldn't stop his imagination.

He caught Orrade studying him. 'What?'

His friend's smile held a great deal of anger mingled with admiration. 'I was wrong. You are strong enough to make the hard decisions.'

Byren said nothing. Was he as hard as his father, Rolen the Implacable? He would not have thought it. He never wanted to have to make this kind of decision again. Elina might understand, but would she ever forgive him?

Curse Palatyne. Curse his pet Power-workers.

That reminded him of his experiences playing Duelling Kingdoms. 'Be on your guard, Orrie, Palatyne has two renegade Power-workers with him, a barbaric Utlander and a noble called Dunstany. They may sense your Affinity and try to use it against us.'

'You knew?' Orrade stared at him. 'How long -'

Byren shrugged. 'I suspected almost from the start.'

Orrade sank onto a barrel, his shoulders hunched. 'At first I thought I was imagining it. But then it began to add up. I had a vision of a manticore with Cobalt's head before we were attacked by them, but it was so bizarre I thought I must be going mad. If I hadn't refused to believe it, I could have warned you. I should have warned you about Rejulas.' He lifted a tortured face to Byren. 'While we were hiding in the barn at Narrowneck I had a nightmare... a cockatrice entered the yard and spat poison at the barn door, setting it alight. I refused to admit -'

'Forget it.' Byren shrugged.

Orrade sprang to his feet, confronting him. 'Why don't you hate me? Why don't you denounce me?'

Byren laughed. 'You're a lover of men. If that didn't worry me, why should your Affinity worry me?'

Orrade tensed as if he'd been hit, then he went strangely silent.

Just when Byren was about to demand what was wrong, Orrade retreated to sit on his barrel, contained, quiet and... seething. He said nothing while the minutes crept by. The cold settled over them. Meeting here had been a good idea. The ice slabs lining the walls stopped their voices from travelling, but now the chill crept into their bones.

Byren looked away from his friend. He didn't see why he should apologise to Orrade for speaking the truth.

A cold half-hour later the cook came to report that the Merofynian servants were locked in the wine cellar and all of their people were out of the keep, fleeing into the forest. 'There are two guards at the door of the blue chamber, one of Palatyne's men and one of Rejulas's.' Her eyes glinted. 'I don't think Palatyne trusts the Cockatrice warlord or vice versa!'

Byren grinned and slapped his thighs to get his blood moving. 'Thank you, may the goddess be with you. Give Winterfall the signal. It's time to light the beacon.'

She bustled away, as efficient in battle as she had always been in the kitchen.

'Rejulas first?' Orrade asked, coming to his feet stiffly. He stretched and stamped his boots.

Or Lence? Byren wondered. At least he could kill the Cockatrice warlord with a clean conscience. But he had to try to convince Lence. 'My brother first.'

They slipped out of the cold-cellar and took the servants' stairs up the back way to the long corridor which led to the best bedchambers. To their left was the lord's bedchamber and opposite it, the royal chamber where Byren's parents stayed when visiting. These opened onto the mezzanine balcony which overlooked the great hall. To their right were the rest of the bedchambers.

Byren peered around the lintel to the right. Lit by a single lamp, two warriors stood at the entrance to the blue chamber, giving substance to the fiction that Lence was a captive. If it was fiction.

The cook was right, one guard wore the amfina surcoat and the other, the cockatrice cloak.

Byren made a soft noise in his throat. Both warriors stiffened. He made the same noise again. They looked at each other. Finally Rejulas's man headed towards the dark stair well, his boots making soft thuds on the polished wood.

Orrade waited, knife ready. Byren pinned the man's arms as soon as he stepped into the stair well, covering his mouth. Orrade drove the knife up under his ribs, straight into his heart. Byren eased the body to the floor, even as the life left him.

They waited. But Palatyne's man was not going to risk his life to investigate the Cockatrice warrior's fate. Instead, he moved towards the overlord's door, passing on the far side of the dark stairwell opening.

Byren lifted his knife, aimed and threw. The man had time only to register surprise before the knife took him in the throat. Though Byren darted out across the hall to catch him, he hit the floor with a soft thud.

Byren retrieved his knife, wiped it and hurried to the door of the blue chamber. Orrade did not follow.

He glanced over his shoulder to see his friend standing in the hall, torn.

'Go, save her,' Byren whispered. Elina would think he had failed her again, but he had to see Lence.

Orrade's expression cleared. 'Don't be misled by Lence's lies. I believe he's already tried to kill you once.'

Had he?
Byren wondered. Or had it been a slip of the tongue? After all, how could Cobalt have led the manticores to their camp, when it was almost certain he had no Affinity?

Byren thrust the door open.

Lence turned, shielding a flickering candle. He stood unarmed.

'Byren?' His gaze flicked to the naked sword blade and back to his face. 'You're free.'

Byren's shoulders relaxed and his sword tip dipped a fraction. 'Lence, you mustn't believe the things Cobalt said. I haven't betrayed you. The rings were for mother and father's Jubilee. The poem was for Elina, not Orrie.'

His twin shrugged. 'He said you'd say that.'

Byren closed his eyes in frustration.

A mistake. When he opened them Lence had snatched the poker from the fire place. The end glowed menacingly as he raised it between them.

'If you'd only listen, Lence,' Byren pleaded.

His twin's gaze flickered behind Byren. A floor board creaked.

Byren spun just in time to side-step Rejulas's attempt to run him through.

Something hard struck the back of Byren's head, making him stagger and drop to one knee. Lence had hit him? He couldn't believe it.

Rejulas turned his blade, swinging it for Byren's throat. Byren fumbled as he lifted his sword to deflect the strike.

'No!' Lence diverted the stroke so that the blade sang as it slid down the length of the poker.

'Why not?' Rejulas snarled.

Byren lurched to his feet, backing away until the fireplace was behind him. His sword came up between them. Rejulas was his enemy but Lence had saved his life. Why?

'Thought better of it. Can't risk giving the alarm,' Orrade said as he padded into the chamber. On seeing Byren's predicament he froze, weapon ready.

'Shut the door,' Lence ordered. 'We don't want those Merofynian lordlings overhearing.'

Byren's heart soared with hope.

Rejulas cursed softly as Orrade closed the door.

'Byren?' Orrade whispered. 'What's going on here?'

'Yes, Lence?' Byren echoed. 'What's going on?'

'I'm claiming my birthright,' his twin explained. 'Using the Merofynian army as my tool.'

Byren blinked. 'Lence, Merofynia has invaded Rolencia. Unless we stop this overlord everything we hold dear is going to be destroyed, everyone we love is going to die. Palatyne -'

'I'm not Palatyne's captive.' Lence almost looked sorry for Byren. He nodded to the Cockatrice warlord. 'I'm Rejulas's captive, but only for as long as it suits me. We've hatched a plan, Rejulas and I.'

No one lowered their swords. Rejulas edged closer to Lence so that he confronted Orrade. 'Tell them, kingsheir.'

'I have it on good authority that the Merofynians despise their king and fear his overlord,' Lence said softly, reasonably. 'They were planning to invade Rolencia so -'

'They made overtures to me,' Rejulas laughed. 'Expected me to betray Rolencia.'

'Merofynia is ripe for invasion. I know for a fact that the people would welcome Queen Myrella's heir,' Lence continued, his voice gathering strength. 'When Father refused to even consider invading -'

'Did you tell him they were massing an army, that they'd approached the warlord of Cockatrice Spar?' Byren demanded.

'We didn't know that at first.' Lence nodded to the warlord. 'Rejulas -'

'I was sitting in the Three Swans, having been rejected by your vixen of a sister, thinking I'd be better off accepting Palatyne's offer, when Lence came in,' Rejulas explained. 'And I was just angry enough to tell him so!'

'Luckily, Illien was with me,' Lence said. 'He saw how we could use Palatyne against his own king. We're going to let the Merofynian army wear itself down taking Rolencia. Then Rejulas will reveal his true loyalty by releasing me, and together we will crush the crippled Merofynians and take back what should have been mine,' Lence revealed, scorn threading his voice as he went on. 'And you, you came in so slobbering drunk you did not see any of this!'

Byren closed his eyes, remembering the scrap of paper with its hastily drawn map and army movements. He had thought Lence was planning how to defend Rolencia, when he had really been planning how to defeat their father!

He couldn't believe it. 'I don't -'

'That's why you will never be king,' Lence told him. 'All along, everyone thought you were the clever one and I was second best -'

'That's not true!' Byren protested.

'But you're not clever in the ways that matter,' Lence ignored him. 'I set this up. I'll have the crowns of both Rolencia and Merofynia as their saviour and rightful ruler -'

'What of Father?' Byren protested. 'He's the rightful ruler of Rolencia.'

'Father...' Lence's voice faltered. 'He was a great king once, but he's been making bad decisions - giving up the right to rule Merofynia, refusing to invade, forcing me to marry this Merofynian cow, not seeing what you really are...'

Byren's heart faltered as Lence fell silent, staring at him, seeing things Byren could not.

'I'm not a Servant of Palos, Lence,' he whispered, mouth almost too dry to talk. 'Believe me, there is no conspiracy.'

'Of course you'd say that. Illien warned me to harden my heart against you of all people.' Lence's eyes glistened with tears but underneath anger grew. 'You -'

'What of Rejulas?' Orrade asked suddenly, gesturing with his sword to the warlord. 'What do you get out of this trickery, warlord?'

Rejulas nodded to Lence. 'My king has promised me Piro and overlordship of all the spars as a reward for loyalty.'

'Loyalty?' Byren snorted.

'That will never work,' Orrade argued, edging one step closer to Byren. 'The spars will never accept -'

'They will send their best warriors to support King Rolen. There'll be nothing but the old and children left, no one to object to me as overlord.' Rejulas smiled. 'Palatyne employed a similar ploy to become overlord of Merofynia's spars.'

'In fifteen or twenty years the spars will grow a new crop of warriors. They'll revolt,' Byren insisted. 'Lence, how can you turn on Father like this?'

'Father had his chance. He threw it away. He could have been King Rolen the Great, ruler of the known world!'

Byren shook his head.

'Illien was right.' Lence lifted the poker tip. 'He said you did not have the breadth of vision to see.'

'Illien?' Byren felt sick to his stomach. Illien had long since ceased to be the youth he admired and become Cobalt, the bane of his life. 'What's his reward for advising you?'