The King's bastard cokrk-1

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  Garzik managed a weak chuckle.

  'I'll have him up and digging latrines in no time,' Temor announced.

  Garzik gave a mock groan and Byren grinned.

  But once they were outside he paused beyond hearing range of the campfires. Firelight flickered on the unfamiliar faces of Lady Unace's supporters. His own men clustered around a camp single fire, a token force unable to make a difference. It frustrated Byren. He cleared his throat. 'Young Garzik, how — '

  'Too early to say. I've seen men sicken and die from a single scratch and the amfina's bite is known to carry evil humours. But he is young and he believes he will recover. That could make all the difference.' The healer studied Byren, went to say something then hesitated.

  'Speak freely,' Byren urged.

  'I can see why the men follow you so willingly. King Rolen is lucky to have such a worthy son.'

  Byren shrugged. He had no time for flattery.

  The healer seemed to sense this and lowered his voice. 'If Steerden defeats Unace his fealty won't be worth a cockatrice's spit.'

  'I know.'

  'He has the townspeople and the stronghold's inhabitants terrified. Unace has their sympathy but they fear, if they support her and he wins, he will go hard on them. Anyone who can kill his own kin won't baulk at killing townspeople.'

  'I know,' Byren repeated. 'But I don't have enough men to make a difference and even if I did, Rolencia can't be seen to interfere!'

  'Then there's nothing you can do?'

  Feeling frustrated and unjustly criticised, for he was bound to follow the law whatever his personal feelings, Byren escorted the healer back to the would-be warlord's snow-cave. It had been constructed between two outcroppings of rock and was larger and more luxurious than anything he built while out hunting. Just as well, for they were in for a long siege if the warlord could not be winkled out of his shell.

  'Often it is not the truth that decides someone's fate but people's perception,' Seagrass said. 'Your young friend has a better chance of recovering because he believes you expect him to. The people of Unistag Spar already believe Unace's cause is just, they need to believe that she can win. They need a sign from the gods!'

  Byren uttered a short laugh. 'And how do you propose I arrange that?'

  He was still stewing over what the monk had said when he arrived back at his snow-cave. Orrade met him at the entrance.

  'How is he?' Byren asked.

  A grin broke through the serious lines of Orrade's face. 'I swear he's improving already.'

  'Good. Get something to eat. I'll watch over him.'

  Orrade nodded and left. Byren hesitated at the entrance. From here, he could see Unistag Stronghold and the fortified township that spilled down to the valley floor but only as pinpoints of light. The emblem was visible as a flapping flag, black against the brilliance of the stars' sparkling froth. But he knew the white unistag, had known one all his life.

  As an idea struck Byren, he smiled slowly. Turns out he could arrange a sign from the gods!

  His heart rate lifted as he examined his plan looking for flaws. It would take time but they had time, five days' forced march for Temor to travel back to Rolenhold, a day to collect the tame unistag and sneak it out of Rolenhold, five or six days to bring the beast here.

  The people of the spar must not know his part in this. He'd have to lure Unace back to the pass so that he could introduce her to the beast. Then, when she rode into the camp on the back of a white unistag (lucky for them Rolenhold's menagerie held a white), they'd see it as a sign from the gods.

  Byren grinned and silently thanked his grandfather for establishing the menagerie. It was not as large as it once was because god-touched beasts like the unistag tended not to breed except in the wild. All the other beasties had died off and, as far as he knew, this was the last unistag in captivity. It had been fading away, only to rally recently.

  And the people of Unistag Spar would not realise this was the famous Rolencian unistag for it had not ventured out of the menagerie since it had been captured as a foal. By Halcyon, it had to be nearly forty years old. He hoped it was up to the climb over the Dividing Mountains. With a shrug, he put that aside, as being out of his control.

  Under his control was how events unfolded here.

  It would be best if he and Unace appeared to have a fight, and then he could march off with his men. If the camp thought Rolencia had abandoned them then it would have even more impact when Unace rode in on the unistag.

  Yes, he would send Temor directly to his mother. She was sure to grasp the elements of his plan immediately.

  Feeling lighter of heart, Byren ducked and entered the snow-cave. 'What, still lying about, Garza? I expect you to be up and on duty by tomorrow!'

  The boy chuckled, sounding stronger still.

  This time it was the acolytes master who escorted Fyn to the abbot. He had lain awake all night considering his options. The abbot would agree to the mystics master's claim on him. Come spring cusp, Master Catillum would undertake his training and then he would uncover the truth about Piro, for Fyn feared he could not hide it. There was only one thing to do. Before spring cusp, he would have to leave the abbey.

  Leave Rolencia. Unthinkable.

  But, once contemplated, the unthinkable became possible.

  The abbey had taught him many useful skills. He would never become a sell-sword, but he could weave, cook, garden and look after animals. He would run away and earn his living somehow. His hair would grow back to hide the abbey tattoos.

  Master Firefox escorted Fyn to the abbot's private chamber, overlooking the abbey's courtyard. Fyn glanced through the arched windows. Far away, across the patchwork of winter-mantled canals and fields, loomed the Dividing Mountains. Rolenhold stood on its protective pinnacle, painted in shades of lavender and blue. Piro was there right now, pretending to have no Affinity. Fyn felt heart-sick, for his parents would never understand why he'd run away from the abbey. He would be dishonoured in front of everyone, branded a coward. But he had been over and over it and he could see no other solution.

  He looked around the chamber for the mystics master but Catillum was not present, only the abbot. Fyn hid his surprise.

  'Thank you, Firefox,' the abbot dismissed the acolytes master. When he had gone, the abbot came out from behind his parquetry-inlaid desk and sat on a stool in front of the fire. 'Come here, lad.'

  As was proper for an acolyte, Fyn knelt on the cushion at the abbot's feet. While the abbot stared into the flames, Fyn wondered what his punishment would be.

  At last the leader of the monks sighed. 'Your presence in the abbey makes things very complicated, Fyn. All the masters seek to have you in their service. They believe that one day you will be abbot.'

  'But I would have to earn that position,' Fyn argued.

  The abbot merely looked at him. 'You are a clever young man, thoughtful beyond your years. By giving up your place in the mystics to your friend you displayed unusual humility. Or was it fear, Fyn?'

  'Fear?' he repeated, thinking furiously. Had he betrayed Piro in some way already?

  The abbot nodded. 'There are many who fear the power that great Affinity brings. Some even try to deny theirs. It is your destiny to serve the goddess through the mystics. You cannot deny Her, Fyn.'

  He nodded. It seemed Master Wintertide had convinced the abbot his lie had been prompted by the fear he was unworthy. He would be given to the mystics and he would have to run and everyone would think him a coward, motivated by fear.

  In that instant he realised it did not matter what they thought, as long as he did what he believed to be right.

  'Fyn?' the abbott prodded. 'Is there anything you wish to tell me?'

  Fyn licked his lips then shook his head. What could he say?

  'Very well. This spring cusp you will join the mystics. You can go back to your rostered duties, Fyn. Once the gardens master has finished with you, you can serve the mystics.'

  He stood up, bowed and b
acked out. At the door, he hesitated.

  'Ask,' the abbot said.

  'It was Galestorm, who shot the bird, not Beartooth.'

  'I know. Sixty years in the abbey have taught me to recognise a bully and a liar. I don't have to be a mystics master to see the truth.'

  Fyn blinked. 'They why…'

  The abbot sighed. 'Galestorm and his companions are backed by powerful masters, who seek to cripple me through you. Do you understand?'

  Fyn nodded, though he wasn't sure he did, wasn't really sure why the abbot was telling him this.

  'I could not clear you of the accusation without a confession. Feldspar's revelation made it abundantly clear what sort of person you are. Anyone who gives up power because he thinks he does not deserve it would not wantonly harm a defenceless creature.'

  Fyn swallowed. 'What will happen to Galestorm and the others?'

  The abbot smiled. 'Their penance is to serve the livestock master. They are currently mucking out the stables.'

  A laugh escaped Fyn.

  The abbot grinned. 'I believe the punishment must fit the crime.'

  Fyn discovered he liked the abbot. He bowed and backed out into the hall. No wonder the abbot and Master Wintertide were fast friends, they saw the world in the same way.

  It was a pity he had to let them both down.

  The thought made him feel heart-sick, again. If the abbot knew the true extent of Fyn's crime, what punishment would he assign him? Deeply saddened, for he had several true friends in the abbey who he would be sorry to disappoint, Fyn headed back to the acolytes' sleeping chamber.

  He had until spring cusp to plan his escape.

  With a start he realised he would miss his parents' Jubilee. Worse, Piro would think he'd deserted her.

  Piro tickled the foenix's chest. 'How's my pretty?'

  His chest scales were becoming more pronounced. Eventually they would be hard as armour to protect him in mating fights. She wasn't sure how long it took for a foenix to mature but she hoped they would be able to capture a female for him.

  'Here he is, Temor,' her mother said, her voice carrying in the quiet of the menagerie.

  Piro came to her feet, creeping between the hothouse plants. What was her mother doing here with the captain? Had Byren come back?

  They had entered through the far door and now they stood in front of the unistag enclosure. The creature had a stall, fresh hay and space to wander but Piro had always felt sorry for him. He should have been wandering the high mountains, lithe as a mountain goat. Instead he'd spent all his life here, after being captured as a new-born by her grandfather, founder of 'Mad King Byren's menagerie.'

  Temor lifted a horse's halter and stepped through the gate, advancing on the unistag making soft noises. It would have worked with a horse, but this was an Affinity beast, never meant to wear a halter.

  The unistag reared, spinning on its rear legs, cantering off to the far side of the enclosure.

  Her mother opened the gate and entered. 'I'll herd it towards you.'

  'That will never work,' Piro told them, climbing onto the top rail of the fence. Her foenix flew up to land next to her.

  Both Temor and her mother gave a guilty start, which intrigued Piro.

  'You can't capture a unistag, you must woo him.' She jumped down. 'Go back and let me show you.'

  It was only when they latched the gate that she realised how dangerous this was. The unistag had been one of her friends for years, but more recently it had become very fond of her because she let it absorb the excess Affinity from her skin by licking her fingers. This had helped her limit her use of dreamless-sleep. She hated the way the drug made her feel thick-headed and stupid. Since she'd begun feeding the unistag her unwanted Affinity, the beast's coat had improved and its spiral horn gleamed again.

  It trotted over, intelligent silvery eyes fixed hopefully on her, velvet muzzle quivering, but she didn't want to betray her Affinity in front of the others. She gathered her will to halt the build-up, finding it harder than she'd anticipated. It had become habit, and habit was hard to break. Too late, her fingers tingled with unwanted Affinity and the unistag snuffled eagerly. She put her back to her mother and Temor in the hope that this would hide what she was doing. The exchange worked on touch, so it was very isolated. She prayed that unless someone was looking for Affinity, they would not notice.

  The rasping tongue of the unistag tickled and she smiled as she stroked his muzzle.

  'There, see,' she called over her shoulder. 'He's friendly really. You just have to know the way to go about it. Why do you want to put a halter on him anyway?'

  When she turned to face them, the unistag nuzzled her neck giving her goose bumps.

  Temor and her mother exchanged glances.

  'Could Captain Temor lead the unistag across the Dividing Mountains?' her mother asked.

  Piro laughed. 'He couldn't lead him out of the enclosure.'

  'But the unistag will follow you?' her mother prompted.

  Piro nodded.

  Temor sighed. 'We'll have to tell her. It won't work without Piro.'

  'She'll have to go with you,' her mother agreed, not sounding pleased at all.

  'Go where?' Piro asked, consumed with curiosity.

  'But that means she will have to stay with the unistag as long as it is needed,' Temor countered.

  'She'll need a disguise,' her mother said. 'I'm sure I can rig something to make her look like a goatherd from Unistag Spar. We've plenty of props in our stage craft chest.'

  'I'm going to meet up with Byren?' Piro pounced on this eagerly.

  Temor cleared his throat. 'It will be dangerous. Warlord Steerden is a ruthless man and even if this works, Lady Unace still has to take back the stronghold.'

  'I'm going to help Byren win the warlord of Unistag's loyalty?' Piro guessed.

  Her mother fixed on her. 'You'll have to obey your brother implicitly.'

  Piro nodded. She could do whatever she liked. Byren always forgave her.

  'No running off on escapades of your own.'

  She shook her head. Only ones that would help Byren.

  'You'll have to keep your mouth shut,' Temor warned, 'or your accent will give you away.'

  'Arrh, but you're wrong there,' Piro countered.

  A surprised laugh escaped Temor.

  Her mother smiled. 'You always were a quick study.'

  Piro basked in her mother's approval for a change.

  'Very well,' the queen said. 'Temor, get Seela to pack enough food for the journey. No one must know you've been here. You'll leave as soon as possible.'

  He hurried off.

  Piro couldn't stand still, could hardly believe her luck.

  'Come here,' her mother beckoned.

  She darted over, stepping through the gate as her mother opened it. The queen snatched Piro's hand and lifted it to her face to inhale.

  Piro froze. Could her mother sense the Affinity she'd used to lure the unistag?

  Queen Myrella's eyes widened and Piro's heart missed a beat.

  'You reek of Affinity. Why didn't you tell me, Piro?'

  'Seela said — '

  'Seela knew?'

  Piro nodded. 'She told me not to tell you because you would be disappointed.'

  The queen let her hand drop. She looked pale and her fingers trembled visibly. 'Oh, Piro. I am so sorry. Your father will be devastated.'

  'We don't have to tell him. We can hide it,' Piro insisted. 'After all, you've been hiding yours for years!'

  'Seela told you about me?' Her mother went even paler.

  Piro nodded. 'I've been careful, just like you.'

  'You just gave yourself away!'

  'But only because you knew what to look for,' Piro insisted.

  'The abbey mystics know. Our Affinity warders will guess — '

  'They haven't so far and my Affinity came on at autumn cusp.'

  'You'll give yourself away. I know you.' Her mother sank to sit on the lower rail of the enclosure,
head in her hands.

  Piro rubbed her back and the foenix came over, making soft interrogative noises in his throat. Piro knelt to reassure him, as well as her mother. 'I won't slip up. I stood right next to the mystics mistress at midwinter and she sensed nothing.'

  Her mother lifted her face to Piro, black eyes swimming with tears. 'You've no idea what it means to live your life as a lie. Sometimes, I… but then I look at you children and think, if I'd joined the abbey, I wouldn't have you. Only now you and Fyn are both cursed. Oh, Piro, I'm so sorry!'

  And then her mother… her proud, regal mother… burst into tears.

  For a moment Piro stared, stunned. Then she put her arms around the queen's shaking shoulders. Tears stung her own eyes. She laughed at herself. 'Oh, Ma. It's not so bad. It's not like anyone's died!'

  Her mother pulled back. 'But don't you see? It means the seer was right. And if she was right about us being alike, what else was she right about?'

  The seer had forecast death for the queen's loved ones. Piro fought a moment's panic, then rallied. 'But the mystics mistress said there are many possible future paths. We're lucky we know about this one. Now we can make sure it doesn't happen!'

  Her mother smiled through her tears, visibly regaining her composure and strength of purpose. 'I'm lucky to have you, Piro. For you the cup isn't half full or half empty, you're always topping it up.'

  Piro laughed and her mother joined her. It felt good.

  Byren had timed everything and planned for every contingency. He knew how long it would take Temor to trek back to Rolenhold and how long it would take to return with the unistag. If Temor arrived at the Lower Portals, the camp below the pass, before Byren did, he was to wait for him just off the track in a cave Byren had chosen.

  Today was the day he had to fight with Unace and storm off with his men. She had been quick to understand his plan and embellish it, suggesting that he march off about mid-afternoon and then she could reconsider overnight and follow him the next morning, seeking reconciliation. This would explain how she happened to be in the high mountains to find the unistag.

  Byren hadn't warned his men to pack. Their reaction had to look authentic. Lucky for him, the wait had given Garzik a chance to recover and he would be well enough to make the journey.