The King's bastard cokrk-1

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  'You must be very proud of your sons, Queen Myrella,' the abbess said, wistfully.

  As her mother made some reply, Piro's heart swelled. A head taller than nearly everyone else, Lence and Byren radiated good health and vigour. No wonder the young women looked on them with desire and the older ones with appreciation.

  It was mid-afternoon and the great hall was packed, but everyone pulled back and a hush fell over the crowd as the hunt-master's apprentices dragged in the body of an enormous leogryf.

  Then, as if released from a spell, people began chattering excitedly. King Rolen strode down the two steps from the dais, embracing Lence, then Byren. He took his time, inspecting the beast as he walked around its great length.

  'Queen Myrella?' The Merofynian ambassador offered his arm.

  Piro watched as her mother graciously accepted and stepped down from the dais. That was the difference between Rolencia and Merofynia, the difference between her mother and her father. The king was a sturdy, bluff man who said what he thought. The queen was a dainty, polished woman who spoke three languages and had tried to raise her daughter to be the mirror image of herself. The problem was that Piro might look like another version of her mother, but in her heart she took after her father.

  Picking up her skirts, she jumped down from the dais and darted between the excited nobles, pushing through to join Byren. Standing so close to the beast made her realise how massive it was. 'It's huge!'

  Byren grinned. 'From nose to tail tip it's twice as long as I am tall!'

  'And those teeth!' She marvelled as one of the men prised the jaws open. Everyone gasped in amazement.

  '…driving his hunting knife in here,' the hunt-master was saying. He showed her father and the gathered nobles where the blow had been struck. 'Byren went straight to the heart, killed it with one blow!'

  'You killed it?' Piro turned to her brother.

  'It attacked Lence. I didn't think, I just — '

  But they didn't let him finish. King Rolen strode up to Byren, clasping both his shoulders. 'Truly, I am blessed with sons any king would envy!'

  The hunters and King Rolen's honour guard cheered, the deep hearty sound echoing off the ceiling above like waves on the shore.

  Piro laughed and hugged Byren, glancing to their mother, eager to share the moment. Queen Myrella had gone very still, as she stared at someone behind Byren. Piro glanced over her shoulder, identifying a well-dressed stranger with his arm in a sling.

  She tugged on her mother's sleeve. 'Is that Cousin Illien?'

  'Cousin… yes, your father has acknowledged the blood tie,' she whispered.

  Piro turned to have another look. Why, he had the same square jaw as Lence. He even carried himself like her eldest brother. Anyone could tell he was their kin. With one arm in a sling, and his elegant coat, he cut a fine figure. It was sad to think he'd lost his father and bride to the Utlander raiders.

  King Rolen raised his arms, calling for silence. 'Well done, second son. It is a feat worthy of our ancestor, King Rolence the First!'

  Piro hid a fond smile as Byren's face went a shade darker and he glanced about as if wishing he could slip away.

  'A drink to celebrate. Bring the Rolencian red laid down the year I married Myrella!' King Rolen called. Servants scuttled off to fetch bottles and goblets. Midwinter feast was a time for drinking around the fire and telling tales of great deeds — a great deal of drinking and boasting.

  Piro loved the tales of bravery and honour. If only she had lived in those times, when kingsdaughters had to ride to war to save their people!

  She felt a tug on her arm and turned. She expected it to be her mother about to tell her it was not proper for her to sit around the feasting fire and listen to tales that could turn bawdy, but it was Fyn.

  This close to him she was surprised by how much he had grown. He was almost a head taller than her now. At nearly seventeen he would soon leave the ranks of the acolytes and become a monk. In fact, one of the Proving trials was to be held tomorrow.

  Eyes pleading, Fyn glanced to the nearest door.

  There was no need for words. They slipped away, Fyn leading her out the west passage towards Eagle Tower. The air was much cooler in this section of the Hold and the sound of the revelry soon faded, cut off by the thick stone walls.

  'What is it?' Piro asked, her breath misting in the cold.

  'Not here.' Fyn jerked his head upwards, indicating the tower where they could be private.

  Byren sipped his red wine, savouring the rich taste, while waiting for a chance to speak with his father. Finally the hunt-master and Lence moved off to refill their drinks, and he was alone with the king for a moment. He looked for his mother but she was entertaining the Merofynian ambassador. A pity, he would have liked the queen to hear this too.

  'Has the warlord of Unistag sent anyone, father?' he asked. The warlords were supposed to renew their allegiance to the Rolencian King each midwinter and, if the warlord couldn't come, his delegate should.

  'No,' King Rolen muttered. 'Not unless his delegate arrives before tomorrow evening — '

  'Don't expect anyone. His heirs are fighting over who will take his place. My guess is, they couldn't agree who should represent him, because if they did it would be agreeing on his successor.'

  'And where did you hear this?' Lence demanded, coming up behind him with Cobalt and Captain Temor.

  Byren repressed an irrational surge of guilt. 'The villagers.' He was not about to reveal that they'd come to him, and not Lence, as the king's representative. 'They were complaining about Unistag raids on Foenix Spar driving people over the Divide.'

  King Rolen nodded. 'Looks like we'll need to teach the Unistags a lesson this spring.'

  'Sooner, before they can come over the pass and raid our villages,' Lence agreed with relish, having caught the last part of the conversation. 'I claim the honour of leading the fleet to the Utlands.'

  'That reminds me,' Byren said, on another track entirely. 'I saw a band of thirty raiders in the valley. Have you had reports of an attack?'

  His father shook his head. 'None. Are you sure they were from over the Divide and not from one of our lords' estates?'

  'They wore no lord's emblem and they moved with deadly purpose.'

  'But how can you be sure they were warlord's men?' Cobalt asked.

  Byren hesitated. He'd been fighting spar warriors for five years now and his gut feeling told him they were not Rolencian. But, if they were spar warriors, why would they come down into the valley? Most raids occurred just over the pass on the high villages and mostly when they were desperate to feed their people. There had to be a better way…

  'They were raiders, I just know,' Byren muttered. 'Father, I've been thinking. What if we built granaries — '

  'Halcyon Abbey has a great granary,' Lence reminded him.

  'Yes. But I meant to share with the spars.'

  'What?' Cobalt mocked gently. 'Give away Rolencia's bounty? That would only make the people of the spars lazy. Why work when they could come a-begging?'

  Lence and King Rolen laughed.

  Byren felt his face flame. 'I'm trying to think of a way to stop the raids, Illien.'

  'Teach them a lesson!' his father snapped. 'That's what m'father did and his before him. It's all they understand.'

  'Not much better than Utlanders!' Lence added.

  He and King Rolen laughed and refilled their wine goblets.

  'The queen seems very close to the Merofynian ambassador,' Cobalt remarked in the lull that followed. 'Does she miss her home?'

  Lence scowled. 'Rolencia is mother's home.'

  Byren glanced to their mother. She was listening to the old ambassador. Probably talking about Lence's planned wedding, which would be announced on Midwinter's Day.

  'My wife knew the ambassador when she was a child in Merofynia. He was a friend of her father's,' King Rolen said.

  'That explains it then, Uncle,' Cobalt said. 'You are a lucky man, Queen Myrella is s
till a lovely as ever.'

  Byren's father glanced to the queen, smiling fondly. 'We'll have been married twenty-one years this spring cusp and it will be three hundred years since King Rolence claimed the valley, uniting it under his banner. Yes, I am a lucky man. You must stand on the royal dais at the Jubilee, Nephew.'

  '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.