Fyn empathised, but he had frustrations of his own. ‘Why didn’t Wythrod make camp further back? The pincer attack would have worked.’
‘Young men think they are immortal and feel they have something to prove.’
‘Says the old man of ninety-four.’
Dunstany grinned, reminding Fyn that he was really Siordun. If only Siordun was the heir to Dunistir Estate. Isolt could have used his support. A thought occurred to Fyn. ‘How do you fool old Lord Dunstany’s friends?’
‘He didn’t have any close friends. All the men of his generation had died off. It’s hard to imagine, but my grandfather was nearly forty when Lord Yorale was born. Even the men of Yorale’s generation are dying of old age. When a man is as powerful and long lived as Dunstany, he tends to lose friends and gather enemies. Men envy him and plot his downfall. In my Dunstany disguise I haven’t let myself get close to anyone for fear of slipping and revealing my secret.’
‘Don’t you get lonely?’
‘The mage took me when I was five.’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t have time for friends.’
It was a sad. Fyn gestured to Rhalwyn and Cortomir, who were bickering over whose turn it was to throw the platter. ‘Speaking of friends, that’s an unlikely pairing.’
Admonishing them not to fight, the queen headed down the steps.
‘Isolt trusts Yorale,’ Fyn said. ‘But of all the lords and their heirs, I trust Camoric. Did you hear? Isolt made his grandfather her lord admiral.’
‘Winning the favour of a vulnerable young queen can be more trouble than it’s worth. Don’t worry, Byren will sort out the nobles.’
Resentment gnawed at Fyn. He’d had to do all the ground work. He told himself it was unworthy of him, and turned to welcome Isolt as she joined them. ‘We—’
‘Corto, don’t!’ Rhalwyn cried.
They looked up to see Cortomir astride the wyvern, which was perched on the balustrade landing, silhouetted against the first stars of evening.
‘Get down, before you fall down!’ Dunstany yelled.
Cortomir whooped and waved. The wyvern leaped out and up, taking to the air. As she fought to gain height, wings labouring, the foenix flew alongside them. ‘Corto!’ Rhalwyn ran down the steps, trying to catch up with the Affinity beasts.
Fyn, Isolt and Dunstany took to their heels.
Wings battling valiantly, the wyvern clipped the terrace railing balustrade and swooped out over the lawn. One wing tip skimmed the water of the fountain, sending up an arc of spray.
Fyn rounded the fountain in time to see the wyvern land at a run. She lost her footing and tumbled, sending the boy sprawling across the grass.
As Dunstany reached them, Cortomir and the wyvern came to their feet, dusting themselves off. The spar lad laughed. Fyn wanted to throttle him. What would he say to Warlord Cortovar if his son got himself killed?
‘Corto!’ Rhalwyn hugged the lad, then shook him, then hugged him again. He turned to Fyn and the others, beaming with pride. ‘Did you see? I wish I was as small as—’
‘We’re lucky you’re not as big a fool as him.’ Dunstany snapped.
‘I thought I could do it.’ Cortomir turned to Isolt. ‘When Loyalty is bigger, she can carry you!’
‘Nonsense, people don’t ride Affinity Beasts.’ Isolt went over to Loyalty.
‘Maybe they could. There are myths. I thought them only stories, but...’ Fyn glanced to Dunstany.
He leant heavily on his cane and staff, and appeared exhausted; but only a moment before, he had sprinted across the courtyard. If one of Dunstany’s enemies had seen him out-race Fyn, the charade would be over. The outraged Merofynian nobles would turn on the mage’s agent.
While Rhalwyn and Cortomir chattered, and Isolt assured herself Loyalty was unharmed, Fyn edged closer to Dunstany. ‘You forgot your disguise.’
‘I know...’
They both glanced up at the three-storey buildings overlooking the terrace. Several chambers glowed. One of the old servants might have been watching.
Dunstany grimaced. ‘We can only hope if someone was at one of the windows, they were watching the boy flying the wyvern.’
Fyn nodded and offered his arm, raising his voice. ‘Here, let me help you.’
He ‘helped’ the old noble scholar over to the fountain, lowering him to sit on the rim. Isolt was inspecting Loyalty’s wings for damage. Fyn lowered his voice. ‘Did you find anything about bonding with Affinity beasts?’
‘There was nothing in the palace library. And I haven’t been back to Ostron Isle to check the mage’s library. I suspect all the stories I’ve read date from before we had written history. It is as if they were memorised and adapted for different audiences. They’re inconsistent and contradictory. For all I know, they are complete fabrications.’
‘Well, we just saw Cortomir fly on Loyalty’s back. That confirms one of the myths.’ Fyn frowned. ‘What if Cortomir bonds with Loyalty? He’s spending more time with the wyvern than Isolt now. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad—’
‘It would be disastrous. He’s a hostage, held as surety of his father’s good behaviour, while the wyvern is the Merofynian royal symbol. It would be better to kill Loyalty.’
‘It may yet come to that.’ Fyn had felt the force of the Affinity beasts’ hunger for power. ‘Back on your yacht, they nearly drained me. And Isolt has no innate Affinity.’
‘Then she’s safe.’
‘From what?’ Isolt asked, joining them.
Fyn did not want to admit they’d been discussing her pet.
The young queen looked from him to Dunstany, then back again. Her eyes darkened and her plucked brows drew together. ‘Don’t you two start.’
‘Start what?’ Fyn asked.
‘Ignoring me.’ Her eyes blazed. ‘The lords met behind my back with the merchants and the captain of the city-watch. Even the captain of my own queen’s guards presumes to tell me what to do.’
Dunstany stiffened and came to his feet. He frowned at something behind Fyn. ‘What’s this?’
Fyn glanced over his shoulder to see Captain Elrhodoc and four of the queen’s guards striding down the terrace steps towards them. They carried torches, and the leaping flames made the night seem dark.
‘Sylion’s luck. Someone was watching,’ Fyn muttered.
‘If they arrest me, you two know nothing,’ Dunstany said. ‘I fooled everyone, you understand?’
‘We can’t abandon you,’ Isolt protested, dismayed.
‘You must, or you’ll fall with me.’
Fyn’s mind raced. ‘If the worst happens, I’ll go to Dunstany’s town house. Gwalt can send a message to the mage.’
‘Yes.’ Isolt sounded relieved. ‘Tsulamyth will find a way to save you, Siordun.’
He glanced to them. His mouth opened as if he was about to say something, then he turned to face his accusers.
GARZIK GRINNED. THE returning raiders had been spotted by the settlement’s lookout, and fires burned to guide them up the narrow bay. Every door and shutter stood open, and the whole settlement lined the shore and the jetty, bringing lanterns to lend the scene a festive air. Children danced and shouted, scampering about in excitement.
When he’d first seen the settlement, he’d found it hard to tell the men and women apart. They all wore breeches and thigh-length smocks. Now they looked normal to Garzik. Emotion welled up in him, making his chest tight and his throat ache. Now it felt like home.
Garzik spotted one of the Utland ships at the jetty and wondered who captained it. The settlement had five ships, but the only captain he’d met was Feodan, who’d led the raid when he was enslaved and Rusan was made captain of the captured merchant ship.
‘Wynn!’ Cheeky-puss jumped up and down on the shore, waving madly until he spotted her.
‘Ilonja!’ He couldn’t help grinning as she ran along the shore, keeping pace with the ship. ‘Careful, you’ll trip.’
‘What?’ She dodged some children and ran slap-bang into a gr
oup of beardless. They set her on her feet with an admonishment to watch where she was going. She brushed them off and kept running. ‘What, Wynn?’
He laughed and shook his head. When next he caught sight of Ilonja, her older sister was telling her off while she danced with impatience. The sisters had both joined the beardless after Vultar’s attack. They’d sworn off men, vowing to die in defence of their home. How many women were pregnant because of Vultar’s men? Garzik wasn’t about to ask. He was glad Ilonja had hidden in the woodheap. Her older sister, Sarijana, had not been so lucky. Ilonja had always meant to become one of the beardless. But Sarijana...
Garzik snuck a look at Rusan and Olbin as they waited for the ropes to be secured to the jetty. After their daring raid on Port Mero, they could have asked the beautiful songstress to be theirs, then gone to the elders for permission to marry, but there was no point now.
As they drew up to the jetty, anxious faces searched the deck of Rusan’s ship, looking for loved ones.
‘Where’s the rest of your crew?’ someone yelled.
‘They fell in battle when we were escaping from Port Mero!’ Rusan yelled.
‘Port Mero?’ Word spread. People marvelled at their daring, but there were also shocked faces. Some questioned the cost.
Olbin nudged Rusan. ‘Ma is not happy with us.’
In the excited crowd, their mother was an island of stillness. Like Olbin, Lauvra was tall and broad-shouldered, but she was a thinker like Rusan.
‘Da!’ Luvrenc shouted and waved. He nudged Garzik. ‘That’s my last father. He’s a famous ship’s captain!’
‘Feodan!’ Olbin shouted and waved. ‘Uncle Feo!’
Garzik recognised Luvrenc’s father, feeling the slow burn of anger. Thanks to Feodan, he was here and not in Rolencia with Byren.
The gangplank dropped into place. Luvrenc ran down into his father’s arms. Rusan and Olbin went next, with Garzik following.
Captain Feodan laughed and slapped Rusan and Olbin on their shoulders, congratulating them in one breath and teasing them about their near-beardlessness with the next. Then he asked how Luvrenc had done. Garzik understood that Feodan had taken Olbin and Rusan to sea to groom them for command, and when they were ready, he’d given them their first ship. Now they were doing the same for his son.
As Rusan and Olbin made their way through the crowd towards their mother, Garzik tagged along. Their return with a hold full of stores stolen from under the hot-landers’ very noses was a cause for celebration, and there was much mock-punching, laughter and good-natured wrestling.
But not everyone was smiling. Less than half their crew had survived. Garzik spotted the surviving twin with a woman. She wept in his arms, while three small children clung to their legs, sobbing.
Rusan and Olbin hugged their mother. Lauvra pinched their bristly chins. ‘I send men away to raid and I get boys in return!’
Olbin laughed. Rusan slung an arm around Garzik, drawing him forward. ‘Blame Wynn, he shaved us to aid our disguise as hot-landers.’
‘Port Mero, Rus?’ His mother eyed him. ‘Consider the cost. Fourteen of your men lost for the sake of one full hold.’
Rusan looked down. Garzik was about to spring to his defence when Feodan joined them.
‘Rus has won more than a full hold, Lauvra. His daring will raise our standing with the other peoples of the Northern Dawn.’ He ruffled Rusan’s hair as if he was ten, not nearly twenty. Three fingers were missing from Feodan’s hand and he was a mass of scars. Garzik wondered how long before he retired from the sea. There were very few old men in the Utland settlement. ‘You should be proud of your boys, sister.’
‘I am,’ she said, but she frowned at Rusan. ‘Is reputation more important than the safety of your men, Rus?’
He shook his head. ‘It was a calculated gamble. We had Wynn. He knew the port and he knew the language.’
Lauvra did not look convinced. ‘I’d rather a full hold taken from safe targets than you seek glory at the cost of—’
‘It wasn’t Rusan’s fault.’ Garzik could not remain silent any longer. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted Vesnibor consoling Jost’s mother over the loss of her three sons. ‘Rusan would have gotten away unscathed if Jost hadn’t put personal vengeance ahead of the crew’s safety.’
Lauvra and Feodan exchanged looks.
‘Jost always was ambitious,’ Feodan muttered. ‘You should have—’
‘I promised him the other ship.’ Rusan’s eyes glittered with anger. ‘But he chose vengeance!’
‘I don’t like it.’ Lauvra muttered. ‘This could tear our people apart.’
Feodan nodded.
Just then, Ilonja threw her arms around Garzik. ‘Wynn!’
He laughed and hugged her. ‘Are you a fierce beardless now?’
‘As fierce and beardless as you!’ She tapped his chin, which still showed no signs of whiskers. ‘What happened to your voice?’
‘Someone tried to choke me.’ Garzik glanced to the others. Olbin was organising the unloading of supplies for the feast, Rusan was talking with Feodan, and Lauvra was deep in conversation with the elders. Garzik turned back to Ilonja. ‘Has there been any more trouble with Vultar?’
She shook her head. ‘When Captain Feo came back, he stayed to be sure we could defend ourselves.’
‘Carry this.’ Olbin thrust a wheel of cheese into Garzik’s arms. ‘For the feast!’
Before long, everyone headed up the path from the jetty to the long-house, laden with treats.
Garzik walked several paces behind Lauvra, Feodan and Rusan. He had no trouble with the Utland language now, but the rapidity of their speech—and the way they peppered their conversation with names he did not know—made it hard to follow.
From what he gathered, Rusan was asking Feodan for help building a ship. By the time they reached the patch of level ground in front of the long-hall, it was decided the merchant ship would be kept for short trips between the Utland isles. Meanwhile, Feodan and his men would help Rusan construct the new vessel, which would not be ready until the following spring.
That would be too late for Garzik. Rolencian battles were traditionally fought during summer. Byren would probably win his kingdom before Garzik could return.
The thought made him smile. If that happened, he would rejoice for Byren and his brother. But how would he win a place in King Byren the Fifth’s honour guard if the war was over and he was nothing but an ex-slave?
Olbin slung one arm around Garzik’s shoulders and the other around Rusan. He turned them to face the long narrow bay. The sky was completely clear, ablaze with stars. The trail of people coming up from the jetty parted around them.
Below, the ships sat silvered by starlight, on the mirror-like bay, as if they floated on a sea of stars.
‘Home.’ Olbin’s voice caught.
‘Why you...’ Rusan thumped him. ‘You’re as soft as a hot-lander.’
Olbin tackled him and the pair of them wrestled back and forth. Olbin was bigger, but Rusan knew all his moves. Watching them, it occurred to Garzik that they’d grown up wrestling like this. He envied them. There’d been too many years between him and Orrade. And besides, Orrade had always been closest to Byren. Garzik had only ever been the little brother, trotting along behind.
‘Boys?’ Lauvra came to the door of the long-hall. ‘Come in and take pride of place at the table.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
FYN FACED THE queen’s guards, ready to stand by Dunstany, but Captain Elrhodoc ignored the old lord and marched over to the boys.
He seized Cortomir, shoving the lad towards his men. ‘Take the spar brat and hang him from the linden tree—’
‘No!’ Rhalwyn tried to free his friend.
‘What’s going on, captain?’ Isolt asked, striding towards him with the Affinity beasts at her side. Loyalty’s tail lashed back and forth, and Resolute’s crest rose in warning.
While his men tried to pry the two lads apart, Elrhodoc gave
Isolt an abbreviated bow. ‘It’s Centicore Spar, my queen. They’ve attacked Benetir Estate again. Murdered Lady Gennalla and—’
‘Da wouldn’t!’ Cortomir objected. ‘He gave his word.’
‘The word of a barbarian?’ Elrhodoc sneered. ‘We know what that’s worth!’
One of the queen’s guards clipped the lad over the ear. ‘Shut up, brat.’
‘Stop this,’ Isolt ordered. When he did not respond, she plunged into the melee. ‘Let the boys go.’
Fyn had to fight the instinct to intervene. The queen’s guards had to obey her of their own volition, or they ceased to be her guards.
Either they hadn’t heard her or they were too preoccupied with the lads. Rhalwyn bit the guard grabbing him, then shoved the man with all his might. The guard staggered, colliding with Isolt. Fyn darted in to catch her. At the same instant, Loyalty screeched and went for the man, who drew his sword.
Resolute uttered a piercing cry and lashed out with his foreleg. The spur sliced clean through the man’s arm and he screamed.
‘Stop!’ Dunstany slammed his staff on the ground and the orb flashed brilliantly.
Momentarily stunned, everyone hesitated.
The orb of Dunstany’s staff settled down to a silvery glow, and Fyn could feel Affinity emanating from it. Naturally the wyvern and foenix were attracted to the power. Dunstany lowered the staff tip a little. Both Affinity beasts rubbed themselves against the orb like cats.
‘Consider yourselves lucky I was here,’ Dunstany told Elrhodoc and his men. ‘Otherwise not one of you would be alive now. Never threaten the queen!’
‘We weren’t threatening her,’ Elrhodoc protested. His four companions shifted uneasily and let the boys go. They went over to the Affinity beasts. ‘We were arresting the spar brat.’
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