The Ursuper cokrk-3

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  'You must let Byren and Fyn know,' Piro told him.

  He glared at her. 'If I let a little slip of a girl tell me what I must and must not do, I would be a sorry excuse for a mage. Now, leave me in peace.'

  Delighted with the news, Piro went to find Isolt. She found her on the tower stairs with the wyvern.

  'Guess what?' Piro beamed.

  'Let me see.' Isolt put her finger to her chin, pantomiming deep thought. 'The new elector has agreed to an alliance with your brother.'

  Piro had been about to tell her that she'd caught Tyro playing the mage, but thought better of it now. Isolt might worry if she believed the mage was too frail to protect her. 'You heard?'

  Isolt laughed. 'What else would it be? Truly, this is good news for your family and Rolencia.'

  But there was no good news for Isolt, who was still estranged from her father and lived in fear of Palatyne discovering her whereabouts and claiming her. Surely the mage could do something for her too?

  'Piro? Day dreamer?' Isolt smiled as Piro focused on her face. 'I feel bad about neglecting Loyalty these last few days, so I'm taking her for a swim. Do you want to come?'

  Deep below the tower was a grotto, which opened onto the Ring Sea. Sunlight filtered through a hole in the roof, bathing the white stone in rippling light, and a hot spring of fresh water fed the pool, making it warm enough to swim in. Since water was her natural element the wyvern liked to go there once a day.

  'Another time,' Piro said. 'I just thought of something I must do.'

  Isolt nodded and led the wyvern off. Piro suspected King Merofyn's daughter was happier living as an outcast on Mage Isle than she had been in her own palace. But Isolt had to go home eventually.

  Piro glanced up the stairs, thinking of the mage lying up there in his bed, too sick to go out. Poor thing. She should make sure he understood that she was to blame for opening the gates, not Tyro.

  She went past the war table chamber on the tower's third floor. The curving stairs followed the wall. At the next floor the door opened into the chamber housing the library. She'd seen this room when Tyro showed them about. According to him, this was as far as they were allowed to venture. Which meant the mage had to be on one of the next four floors.

  He would probably enjoy a visitor.

  Piro crossed the library, entering the next stairwell. When she reached the top, she thought she heard a scurrying noise. Rats. They should get the terriers in.

  The door opened at her touch. This chamber contained an odd mix of treasures, reminding her of her father's trophy room, except these treasures were all covered in dust.

  There was, however, a clear path across the dusty boards to the far door, so someone came up here regularly. No doubt to deliver the mage's food and bring him news.

  Following the trodden path, she passed strange objects so powerful they made her teeth ache with Affinity build-up. These treasures were nothing like her father's trophies. Only the Mirror of Insight had set off her Affinity and it responded to power, rather than having any of its own.

  Telling herself that if she wasn't meant to go further the door would be locked, Piro pressed on the handle. The door swung open and she went up the next set of stairs, heart pounding.

  Mouth dry, she entered the sixth and second-to-last floor. This chamber contained ancient weapons, some beautiful in a terrible way. Again, a path had been trodden across the dusty boards. And, again, she felt the tug of power from some of the objects as she passed.

  Again, the door was open, so she went up. But at the top of the last flight of stairs she found the door locked.

  No one answered her tentative knock.

  It had to be Tsulamyth's room. Perhaps the old man was lying sick in bed. She felt sorry for him, shut away all alone. He needn't worry, she wouldn't give his secret away. But she wanted to see the mage to explain. Suddenly, it was very important to make sure he wasn't angry with his agent.

  How was she going to get to Tsulamyth?

  Piro returned to the floor below. If she remembered correctly the balconies were directly under each other. She went through to the balcony doors, opening them wide and stepping out. Immediately the wind whipped at her, tugging at her hair and clothes.

  The balconies were on the far side of the tower, facing away from Ostron Isle and the buildings on Mage Isle. From here she could see the terraced slopes of Ostron Ring. Below her the Ring Sea glistened a brilliant azure, with boats dotted on its surface.

  Turning away from Ostron Ring, she faced the tower. As she had guessed, there was a balcony directly above this one. Could she… dare she climb onto the balcony rail, grasp the floor of the balcony above and swing her weight over? She'd always had a good head for heights.

  Climbing onto the balustrade, she placed one hand on the tower wall and stood up, balancing. The bottom of the top-floor balcony was too high for her to reach.

  Piro jumped down. She needed a rope and a grappling hook. The chambers were filled with weaponry. Surely, she would find something useful.

  Avoiding the objects that gave off the tingle of Affinity, Piro searched the weapons, until she found a three-pronged hook. After making sure the rope was not frayed and the connection tight, she returned to the balcony.

  Standing on the very edge, she put her back to the balustrade and swung the hook around and around, letting it build up momentum, before releasing it. The distance was so short the wind did not have a chance to spoil her aim. The hook clanged against the stone, loud enough to alert anyone in the room. She held her breath.

  No one came out to investigate. Either Tsulamyth was so sick that he couldn't get out of the bed, or the mage was off in Merofynia spying on Palatyne and that was why Tyro was pretending to be him.

  Emboldened by this thought, Piro slipped off her shoes, tied her skirts out of the way and climbed up onto the balustrade. She shimmied up the rope, grateful for three older brothers who'd teased her until she could do everything they could. The wind tore at her hair, pulling it free of its bindings and whipping it across her face. Tears stung her eyes.

  The only tricky part was transferring her grip from the rope to the balustrade. She ignored the drop, swinging her leg over the balcony rail.

  Leaving the rope dangling, Piro went to the balcony doors. Each of the glass panels reflected a different patch of clear blue sky or hillside, and she couldn't see in. Cupping her hands, she peered into the dim chamber. It did contain a bed, though from this angle she couldn't tell if anyone was in it.

  Tentatively, she touched the balcony doors. If they were unlocked, she was meant to go in. They opened at her touch. Not surprising really — she was on the top floor of the tallest tower in the known world.

  Feeling pleased with herself, Piro slipped into the room. She expected to be greeted by the stale smell of old age and illness. Instead, she smelled freshly laundered sheets and messenger birds. Fresh herbs lay on the polished wooden floor. They crushed under her bare feet, filling the air with their pungent scent. Hardly daring to breathe, she padded lightly across the floor to get a better view of the bed.

  Empty… Piro's mental picture of a sad, lonely old man evaporated. The mage must be in Merofynia, or even Rolencia. Helping her brothers, she hoped.

  Pica birds cooed. She turned to find a wall of cages. Gentle Affinity creatures generally liked her, so she went over. Most cages contained a pica pair. Only three of the birds were alone and she guessed their mates were off carrying messages. The remaining pairs perched on their rods, necks entwined, crooning to each other, a picture of devotion. She reached through the bars to stroke one bird's back, feeling her own Affinity build up and flow down her arm. Even though she kept her foenix nearby and petted him every day, her Affinity still built up. It had to be increasing. How would she ever control it? Would she have to join Sylion Abbey after all?

  No point in worrying about that now. Byren still had to win back…

  A presence grew behind her, making the space between her shoulder bla
des throb with a presentiment of danger. Piro swallowed. So the mage was here after all.

  She turned slowly.

  A dark figure stood in the shadows beside the fireplace. No, the figure exuded shadow. 'M-mage Tsulamyth?'

  'Others have died for daring to do what you have done,' he told her, his old voice paper-thin but menacing.

  'I had to see you, had to explain. It wasn't Tyro's fault. I was the one who insisted we open the gates. You mustn't be angry with him.'

  The mage said nothing.

  Had she offended him? She was only trying to make things better.

  'Mage Tsulamyth?'

  He stepped out of the shadows, a fragile old man, stooped by age so that he stood barely taller than her. The light from the balcony flooded his face. She caught a flash of clever dark eyes, set deep behind those bushy white eyebrows in a nest of wrinkles.

  'What are you doing here, kingsdaughter?'

  She sensed power. Familiar power. Of course it would be familiar, she'd met him before. 'I thought you might be lonely. So I came up to keep you company.'

  'Over the balcony?' A wry smile tugged at his lips.

  Tyro's smile. Tyro's power!

  Anger banished her fear. Why was the agent playing with her? Did he think she was stupid?

  'I am sorry, mage.' Eyes down so he could not read her anger, she took his arm as if she believed he was old and weak and led him in front of the fireplace.

  'I had to come over the balcony. Your chamber door was locked.' She gave him her best cheeky smile and patted his veined hand. It looked so real, felt real. Equal parts resentment and admiration for Tyro's skill churned within her.

  'The door was locked for a reason. Can't an old man get any peace?'

  'Peace is for the grave,' she repeated her old nurse's saying. 'Could the door be locked because you have something to hide?'

  Without warning, she tucked her leg behind his, just as Fyn had taught her, and shoved.

  Quick as a cat, the frail old mage regained his balance. His image shifted then settled back into that of Tsulamyth. If she'd blinked, she would have missed it.

  But she hadn't. 'It is you!'

  Hands grasped her upper arms, swung her around, and slammed her up against the wall. For a moment all she saw was stars. When her vision cleared, it was Tyro who pressed her to the wall, her feet off the ground, her eyes level with his. Tyro who had coarsened his features with player's putty and bushy eyebrows.

  Tyro who looked very, very angry.

  Her mouth went dry, even as her heart raced, but she would not be cowed. 'Did you think I was stupid?'

  'No. Never that. Just young and foolish.' His gaze dropped to her mouth, and lingered.

  Suddenly he let her go, stepping back stiffly. 'What are you doing here, Piro?'

  'I told you. I thought the mage might be lonely and… and I thought he might be angry with you. I shouldn't have worried.' For some reason she was more angry than frightened now. Why did she feel as if he had betrayed her?

  When he didn't speak she plunged on. It was all quite clear now. 'You played the mage the night of the elector's death That's how he ran so fast.'

  'I did. But that didn't make you suspicious. What gave me away just now?'

  'I've seen you play Lord Dunstany. With some player's putty to change your face and your Affinity to smooth the illusion, you are a consummate actor. But, when you smile at me, your smile is the same whether you are Dunstany, Tsulamyth or Tyro!'

  He said nothing, seemed to loom over her. Why was he so serious? It was clever, this deception. It meant the mage could be in more than one place.

  'Have you told anyone your suspicions, Piro?'

  'Of course not. So where is the mage?'

  'Tell anyone what I am about to tell you and I will have to kill you.'

  She laughed, then realised he wasn't joking. It was no longer a game. She was out of her depth. She should never have come here. But she would never betray a trust and he should know that. 'As if I would!'

  He let his breath out on a long exhalation. 'The mage is dead.'

  Piro's knees went weak and she sank onto the chest in front of the fireplace, knocking a velvet-covered book to the carpet. Automatically she picked it up and smoothed the dust from the cover. 'Dead? But I thought he was all-powerful.'

  'No one is all-powerful, Piro.' Tyro paced the chamber. 'Are you sure you haven't told anyone, not even Isolt?'

  'She's placed her faith in the mage. I don't want to see her haunted expression return.' Piro frowned and put the book down. 'Maybe you should tell her. She has a right to know the truth.'

  'Tell no one!' Tyro strode over to her and dropped to his haunches. His eyes held hers, intense and compelling. 'You want the truth? The truth is that I am the mage. No one lives for two hundred years. Upon his death I was supposed to inherit the role of Mage Tsulamyth from my master just as he inherited it from his. Only we did not anticipate him dying for at least another twenty years.'

  Tyro sprang to his feet and threw himself into the chair by the fireplace. For once he didn't look pompous and composed, he looked like a troubled youth. And she felt for him.

  'No one must know, Piro. I don't ask this for me. If it was known that Palatyne's twin Utland Power-workers had killed Mage Tsulamyth, Ostron Isle would no longer be safe. Palatyne would sail his army across the sea and strike. You must not reveal the truth.'

  'The Utlanders killed Mage Tsulamyth?'

  'They meant to kill Dunstany.' Words poured from him as if a dam had broken. 'I'm sorry I lied to you, Piro. I had assumed Dunstany's identity. This much you guessed. Lord Dunstany was a good friend of my master's. He believed in my master's dream. He died at a nexus point, when King Sefon was murdered. Rather than lose Dunstany's influence in the Merofynian court, my master assumed his identity. And he trained me to do likewise. Sometimes, I played Lord Dunstany, sometimes the master did.

  'Two summers ago while both the master and I were in Merofynia, the Utlander and his twin brother laid a cunning trap for Lord Dunstany. They had been fierce rivals ever since Palatyne climbed over the Divide and marched his army into the king's very palace, claiming he was there to pay homage to his king.

  'I had a head cold. Lord Dunstany didn't, so my master played him that day. The twin Utlanders ambushed Lord Dunstany and they battled, two against one. Somehow, my master escaped and made his way back to me. I was frantic, he had been missing for hours. I found him dying in the secret passage under the Dunstany town mansion. I couldn't save him.' He sat back, long legs stretched out, and stared past her into the fire. Brooding. 'But for a head cold, I would have been the one who died.'

  'I don't understand. How could the Utlanders kill the mighty Tsulamyth, even two against one?'

  'They didn't set out to kill Tsulamyth. They wouldn't have dared. They set out to kill Lord Dunstany. The Utlanders were prepared with stolen Affinity.' He saw she did not understand. 'They keep Affinity-slaves. The Utlander's twin had one when we arrived in Rolencia. She escaped when he was killed.' Tyro's top lip lifted in a grimace of distaste. 'They siphon Affinity off the living. It's the opposite of what you do with your foenix. Worse than this, they can steal a person's Affinity when they die. Your mother…' He glanced at her, as if not sure whether to go on.

  'I saw the Utlander capture my mother's essence in the stone on the tip of his staff. Is she in there? Does she know — '

  'I don't know. I hope not.' He shuddered. 'Upon her death, her Affinity would have returned to the world. The Utlander stole it. And it was just this kind of stolen Affinity that he and his twin had gathered in preparation for the day they ambushed Lord Dunstany. They never realised they had Tsulamyth cornered. I believe he would've fought them off, if not for his heart. It gave out. He was lucky to escape alive. They thought he'd crept off to die. But they never had the chance to gloat.' Tyro's lips parted in a fierce grimace that was not a smile. 'For I assumed Lord Dunstany's disguise and met the Utlanders at court the very next day, h
ale and hearty, but for a slight head cold. They nearly passed out. After that they were most careful of Lord Dunstany. And now that one of them is dead, the remaining Utlander is doubly careful, for all that he hates me.'

  'Fyn was right. You must have nerves of steel.'

  Tyro's dark eyes fixed on her. He looked tired and worn, but determined. 'I have been bluffing since my master died two summers ago. Without him I must train myself from the books the previous Mage Tsulamyths collected during their lifetimes. I miss my master's advice, but most of all I miss him.' He glanced across to Piro, defiantly apologetic. 'I was his natural grandson.'

  'Oh, Tyro. I'm so sorry,' Piro whispered. She caught herself reaching out to him, hesitated, then tucked her hands in her lap. 'But I thought you said you were born on Dunstany's estate, that your mother sold you to the mage when you were five.'

  'She did. Dunstany was my other grandfather, her natural father. She was a serving girl, born the wrong side of the blanket. She fell in love with my father, who should have been the next Tsulamyth, but he was too keen on wenching and acquiring wealth. It's a tawdry tale. He seduced her, left her pregnant and got himself killed before I was born. So I'm a bastard twice over, with too much Affinity to live a normal life.'

  No wonder he was angry at the world.

  Piro licked her lips. She wanted to reassure him, but was pretty certain he would bridle at the sympathy. So she changed the topic. 'If this charade is so dangerous, why continue?'

  'This is not a game, Piro. I continue the original Mage Tsulamyth's great dream. Peace through a balance of power. Why… the first Tsulamyth invented the game of Duelling Kingdoms to teach the warring nobles the value of diplomacy.'

  She didn't tell him that the way her father played it involved resolving disputes with strategic battles.

  Tyro continued. 'Each mage since has continued his work. My master is the reason you exist. Without his interference, Myrella Kingsdaughter would never have married your father.'

  Piro found it hard to imagine. 'So I owe my existence to a meddling mage?'