The man’s first thought, apart from unsaddling and tethering the horses, was Davren.
‘Let’s have a look at this wound, shall we?’ he asked, looking to Tess for permission.
She nodded. ‘He trusts you.’
‘Good, because I need to see if it’s worse than it looks.’ He glanced at Griff and his gaze softened. ‘What? Not even so much as a hug, eh?’
‘Er,’ Griff looked baffled. ‘Forgive me, er, sir, but everything’s happened so fast. Tess and I, well, I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t come along when you did, but I do know that right now we’d be in chains and being led back to Master Tyren’s Travelling Show.’
‘Is that where you’ve been?’ the man asked, looking completely confused now. ‘Why didn’t you go where you were supposed to?’ His tone was suddenly abrupt. ‘You can’t take chances like that. You are too important!’
Now Griff was mystified. ‘Look, er, sir, I’m not sure what—’
‘And why do you keep calling me “sir”, for Lo’s sake? If you can’t hug an old friend hello, the least you can do is use my name.’
Tess sidled up to Griff. He knew she was feeling just as bewildered and also suddenly frightened again for both of them—all of them. Surely the kind stranger wasn’t going to turn into some crazed captor himself?
Griff bit his lip. ‘I would, sir, if I knew it.’
The man was tethering the last of the horses but he rounded on Griff now. ‘This is a jest, is it? Am I supposed to be laughing with you or is it some joke I don’t understand?’
Griff took a deep breath. This was turning more odd by the moment. ‘My name is Griff, sir. This is Tess. We’ve told you the names of the creatures—’
The man looked back at him as though he had said something very daft. ‘Griff?’ he repeated.
‘Yes?’
‘No, I mean, you said your name is Griff?’
‘Yes, sir. Is something wrong?’
‘I’ll say! I don’t understand. What’s happened?’ he said, frowning. ‘You’re acting as though you don’t even know me.’
‘I don’t think he does,’ Tess said, trying to help. ‘Who are you?’
‘Lute,’ the man replied, his tone filled with injury now. ‘Lute, it’s Pilo.’
Griff stared back, none the wiser for that information. ‘Master Pilo, I—’
‘No, just Pilo. That’s how you know me,’ the man corrected, his expression sagging.
‘I’ve never seen you before in my life, er, Pilo. I honestly don’t know you.’
The man looked as though Griff had just slapped him.
‘And his name’s not Lute. This is Griff.’
‘What have they done to you?’ Pilo asked. He turned to glare at Tess. ‘What have you done to him?’ he demanded.
‘Nothing!’ she hurled back at him. She shook her head. ‘We’re friends. I hardly know him to have done anything to him.’
‘I have to get you help,’ Pilo said, advancing on Griff. ‘A healer needs to see you. Have you banged your head? Taken a fall? Have those men brainwashed you?’ He grabbed Griff’s arm.
‘Wait!’ Griff yelled. ‘None of those things have happened. You’re mistaken. I’m not who you think I am.’
‘I think I know the Crown Prince Lute when I see him!’ Pilo said, indignant.
‘Crown Prince?’ said Griff and Tess together, dismayed.
‘Well, actually, King, if I have anything to do with it, your highness.’ Pilo glared at his young companions. ‘Why are you staring at me like that?’
Tess started to explain but Griff stopped her. ‘No, wait. Master Pilo. Please listen to me. I am not who you think I am, but I do know who you’re talking about. And I know him because I’ve just been speaking to him and he’s in trouble.’
Now Pilo looked at Griff as though he really had slid into madness.
‘I can prove what I’m saying,’ Griff added.
‘I’ll humour you, but I realise I have to get you some help. You’ve obviously lost your mind.’
Tess sat down. ‘If you have any food in those saddlebags, Master Pilo, I would appreciate even a small hunk of bread, but either way, you are going to be still and listen to what Griff has to say. Please.’
Pilo tossed the saddlebag he was holding to her. ‘Help yourself.’ He turned his disbelieving, now angry gaze on Griff. ‘I’m listening.’
Griff gathered his thoughts. This wasn’t going to be easy. ‘You’re Pilo, aide to Crown Prince Lute. He thinks you’re dead, he’s sure you were killed by Duke Janko on the morning the Duke’s men deliberately startled Lute’s filly…er, I think her name is Tirell. You saved Lute and the horse before anything bad could happen and you forced him to leave you, to take Bruno, your horse, and go to a place called Tarrow’s Landing. Is that right?’
Pilo nodded, ‘But—’
‘There is more you should know,’ Griff said, cutting across whatever Pilo was going to say. ‘He was attacked by bandits and your horse was stolen.’ Pilo’s eyes clouded. ‘Lute was hurt too, but not badly enough that he couldn’t move. He was found by some other men and taken to a place where he met a dwarf who goes by the name of Bitter Olof.’
Tension left Pilo’s face at the mention of the dwarf’s name. He looked relieved. Griff continued, telling Pilo everything. But now came the hard part. ‘Master Pilo, Lute is in trouble now. The last time we spoke Duke Janko was hot on the heels of Lute and his friends. The man called Little Thom was seriously injured with an arrow wound and they couldn’t make it to a place called The Devil’s Smile.’
All the while he’d been talking Griff had watched Pilo’s expression change into what he could only describe as silent awe. He stopped talking and waited.
Pilo said nothing initially, just gawked at him.
‘Aren’t you impressed?’ Tess demanded, munching on some bread. She laid a hand on Griff’s arm and smiled encouragingly at him. ‘I am.’
Griff grinned his thanks.
‘How can you possibly know this?’ Pilo finally asked. ‘You must be Lute, only Lute could know of my horse’s name or the fact that I’d told him to find Bitter Olof.’
‘Your enemy,’ Griff added for good measure.
Pilo nodded. ‘Yes, my sworn enemy.’
‘Except he wishes he could make amends, Master Pilo. Er, I hear that Bitter Olof has never forgiven himself and that if not for him and the blood debt he owed you, Lute would likely already be dead.’
Griff watched Pilo’s jaw grind.
‘Do you believe me now?’
He shook his head with wonder. ‘I don’t know what to think. I have to believe you. But until now, I thought I was talking to Lute.’
‘Well,’ Tess said, frowning. ‘If you know all that he has said is true then if he were Lute, he would be with Bitter Olof now. He can’t be in two places at once.’
‘Exactly,’ Pilo replied, his tone now filled with awe. ‘And yet you cannot know all of this unless Lute is with Bitter Olof.’
‘Which proves I’m Griff and here with you, while Lute right now is trying to shake off the Duke’s men.’
‘How do you talk with Lute?’ Pilo asked, frowning.
Griff took a deep breath. ‘I can eavesdrop on people’s thoughts. I hate having this talent but I can’t do much about it. I was born with the skill. And it’s through this magic, I suppose you’d call it, I first heard Lute’s call for help. I can now link to him and talk to him through our minds.’
Pilo stared at Griff, his expression a mix of confusion as much as wonder. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing, yet I have no choice but to believe this because all the evidence suggests you have been talking to Lute. But how much do you know about your own family, Griff, because now it’s my turn to stun you.’ He reached into a pocket, pulled out a palm-sized disc of porcelain. ‘I lost my family a few years ago. The royal family became my new kin, you could say, and Prince Lute filled the terrible gap that came when I lost my own child. He’s a g
reat fellow, will make a fine king if we can help him to outwit Janko. Here,’ he said, offering it to Tess, who was closest to him. ‘The palace artist was doing some portraits for the King and Queen and this was something spare he did on a whim. The likeness to the Prince is accurate. See for yourself.’
Tess stared at the disc in silence. She handed it to Griff without a word but her face told him that something had shocked her. He took the portrait sketch and stared at it. There had to be a mistake.
Pilo cleared his throat. ‘I say again, how much do you know about your family, Griff?’
Griff looked up, his throat turning dry as his gaze met Pilo’s. They were both thinking the same thing.
29
Lute thought he was drowning and it was only when he began to fight the pull downwards and push himself to the surface that he noticed he was being unnaturally weighted down. He began to struggle, kicking his legs furiously. He heard a muffled gasp and it was only then he realised that he was not alone in his struggle but that Bitter Olof had his arms wrapped around Lute’s neck.
‘You’ll kill us both!’ Lute yelled, his head breaking through a wave and gasping for air.
‘I can’t swim,’ the dwarf screeched, clearly terrified, gulping water.
‘I can see that! Here,’ Lute said, still panting hard, ‘hold my hand. You have to stay calm. I promise I will not let you go. Just trust me.’
Lute kicked around to look back to the water’s edge and felt instantly numb. He could see Janko and his men standing over the fallen shape of Little Thom. Three arrows protruded from his back. The men were reloading their weapons and Janko was pointing at Lute and Bitter Olof. It was their turn to die.
A wave rolled over them and the shore was blocked out. He dragged Bitter Olof lower, although the dwarf fought him in his fear, and Lute waited for the arrows to come fizzing through the water to impale him. When his lungs felt fit to burst and he had no choice but to surface again, coughing and spluttering, he instinctively looked to the beach again and was stunned to see several bodies slumped around Little Thom’s.
And then an unfamiliar voice spoke from above.
‘Are you happy to drown then, or do you want a hand?’
He looked directly up into the weather-beaten face of a short, stocky man-like person but with what he was convinced was a woman’s voice. But before he could work it out for sure, strong hands dragged him and a near-drowned Bitter Olof out of the waves and onto the rocky crag. As the dwarf coughed up the sea, Lute tried to catch his breath. He was shocked to count more than a dozen people.
‘Who are you?’ he groaned but he was ignored as the man-woman bent down and with a huge fist wrenched Bitter Olof easily to his feet.
‘You stupid old fool! Whatever possessed you to cross my path again?’
Bitter Olof couldn’t speak, could barely breathe yet.
‘Hey!’ Lute yelled. ‘Don’t treat him like that.’
‘Oh, I’ll treat him how I please, laddie. And if you don’t want a cuff around your stupid ears, you’ll watch your tongue with me.’
Lute stepped back. The person definitely spoke with a woman’s voice but was dressed like a man in loose pants and shirt. There were inkings on her forearms and out of the corner of her mouth hung a crooked pipe. It wasn’t lit and it bobbed around as she spoke in her curious, gruff voice. Her silver hair was pulled back tightly into a pigtail and the men around her definitely gave her respect.
Lute decided it was a woman looming over him. He was bent over, dragging in air, dripping and still spitting salty water. ‘Listen, that man on the beach, the big one,’ Lute began.
‘Looks dead to me,’ the woman cut across his words. ‘Forget him.’
Lute looked horrified. ‘Forget him! Are you insane? He’s a loyal friend. Did your men deal with the Duke?’
‘Duke? Is that who he was, eh?’ She cackled a laugh. ‘Well, he turned tail as soon as our hail of arrows started. I’m sorry we missed him.’
‘You’ve heard then that he has stolen the throne,’ Lute continued, his gaze on Little Thom.
‘No. Nor do I care. I hate the royals. Oy! Dwarf! What have you got to say for yourself?’
Bitter Olof groaned and held his arm out for Lute to help hold him up. He was breathing hard and definitely looked worse for the wear of his past day. But he set his jaw firmly. ‘We go and get Little Thom.’
‘He’s dead, fool. Can’t you see that? You have both had that coming for a long time. And I don’t doubt you’ll be the next one squirming around with an arrow in yer back.’
‘So be it.’ Bitter Olof stepped to the edge of the crag.
‘Wait!’ Lute yelled, grabbing for him.
Bitter Olof turned and Lute looked deep into his eyes for the first time. In there, all of the dwarf’s gruffness was gone and what he saw was grief and love. ‘He’s my friend, your majesty. Alive or not, I don’t leave friends behind and I have never had a more loyal friend.’
Lute nodded, laid a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. ‘Now you have two. I shall go with you.’
The woman spat on the rock near their feet. ‘So we did all that for nothing. Killed a pile of soldiers, scared off the throne-stealing Duke, saved your sorry backsides from drowning and not even so much as a nod of thanks.’
‘Forgive my manners. Thank you, er…madam, for dragging us from the sea.’ Lute held out a hand.
She stared at Lute long and hard, her eyes narrowing, whilst the pipe’s stem roamed around her mouth, making a clacking sound as it did so. She didn’t take Lute’s hand. Instead she rounded on Bitter Olof, who was still blinking from the stinging sea salt. ‘And why in Lo’s name are you calling him majesty?’
Bitter Olof sighed and looked at Lute again. ‘I’d like you to meet Calico Grace—she’s an old, er, acquaintance.’
Lute recalled the feminine name although it certainly didn’t match up to this terrifying vision that loomed before them. ‘Pleased to—’
‘Acquaintance! Why you old rogue. I’ll give you acquaintance!’ She lifted a beefy fist as though she was going to belt Bitter Olof and Lute instantly saw that the dwarf would not only be biffed into the sea but into the next realm if she connected with his jaw. She was a fierce, strong sort. She looked as though she wrestled bulls for a hobby. Her forearms were as thick as his own thighs, he was sure.
‘And this, Grace,’ Bitter Olof continued, seemingly untroubled by her threat, ‘is his majesty, formerly our Crown Prince, now King Lute.’
Her huge fist remained bunched in the air, but her thinned lips slackened and shock claimed her expression.
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam Grace,’ Lute continued, when he could tell nothing much was coming from that gaping mouth for the moment. ‘Er, Bitter Olof mentioned how charming you are.’ He didn’t dare look at the dwarf, although he knew his friend was staring at him sideways with not very well concealed amusement. He smiled.
‘We have to go, Gracie,’ Olof said softly. ‘My heart is breaking just to see him fallen. I couldn’t live with myself if I left Little Thom like that.’
‘I know you saved our lives, Madam Grace,’ Lute added, unsure how to address this curious person. ‘But Little Thom saved them just moments prior. Those arrows were meant for us. He shielded us with his body and took all the punishment. He was brave and selfless. I too cannot leave him.’
Finally her fist lowered and her pipe began moving around her mouth again. She scowled. ‘Would you not call me Madam, yer highness. I don’t really hate the royals. I’m just on the wrong side of their law. The name is Calico Grace and if your thickheaded friend here had told you everything, you’d know how he has treated his so-called friends in the past.’ Her tone was scathing. She turned to the dwarf, spat again, the spittle somehow emerging easily from between her lips, the pipe not even shifting position, and the gob landing directly between Bitter Olof’s feet. ‘And you will stay right here. You are going nowhere!’ She called orders to her men, who instantly leaped
into the water on the other side of the crag, where a small craft was anchored. They rowed expertly around the point and back to the beach. The eldest, and presumably the most senior-ranking, yelled something back but Lute couldn’t hear what was said. The wind carried the man’s words away.
They watched in silence as the men hefted Little Thom’s body into the boat and rowed him back against an increasingly fierce breeze that was whipping up.
‘What did you say?’ Calico Grace called to them as they approached, her hand cupped to her ear.
The man was standing in the boat as it neared. ‘I said he’s still alive,’ he yelled.
Tess gawped at both Griff and Pilo. ‘Let me understand this,’ she said to Pilo. ‘You think Griff has a twin brother and that his twin is the new King?’
‘I don’t think it, I know it,’ Pilo replied. ‘I’ve known Lute for most of his life. And although now I am aware this is not Lute sitting opposite me, I can assure you I would have lost all my money and the very clothes off my back if I’d been asked to wager against it. They look identical. You don’t move the same as Lute, Griff—I see that now—but your voice, mannerisms, even your smile…it’s as though I am with Lute.’
Griff threw down his apple core. ‘But how can this be, Pilo? I’ve told you everything I can. I grew up on the other side of the realm. I have a family—my brothers behave as twins, although they’re not, but I’ve never known anyone else. No other brothers or sisters.’
Pilo considered this, chewing on a square of hard cheese. ‘It is certainly a mystery. You said your mother died when you were young. How young?’
Griff looked down. ‘She died the day after I was born.’
‘So you never knew her,’ Pilo said, disappointed.
The Whisperer Page 24