The Uncrowned King

by Rowena Cory Daniells

  'No, a serving girl wouldn't,' Dunstany agreed, watching her thoughtfully.

  Piro felt decidedly uncomfortable. Maybe she should forget about poisoning Palatyne and run away before the noble scholar pierced her disguise.

  Dunstany seemed lost in reverie. After a moment he took a deep breath and rang the bell for Soterro, who was so quick to arrive he must have been listening at the door.

  If Dunstany suspected this, he did not betray it by so much of a twist of his lips. 'Soterro, tell Cook to pack. We leave tomorrow for Port Marchand, where we sail for Merofynia. King Merofyn is going to need my advice. And before you start packing, Soterro, lock Seela in the attic.'

  Piro cursed silently. No more chances to poison Palatyne. Somehow, in the rush to leave tomorrow, she must escape.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fyn's skates slowed as dawn's silvery light streamed across Rolencia's valley, illuminating first the highest peaks of the Dividing Mountains then the distant pinnacle where Rolenhold stood, making the castle's towers and domes gleam as if they were coated in electrum.

  His heart swelled to fill his chest. Home, seat of his family, source of three hundred years of history.

  He blinked away tears, focusing on the flags that hung from the towers. The high cold air was incredibly clear but the distance was too great for detail. It would take him half the day to get across the lake. However, he did not need to see the deep red foenix on its black background. He saw it in his heart.

  In the still air a pall of smoke hung low over Rolenton and the docks were almost empty of ships. The wharves were always the weakest point of any fortified port yet he could see no encroaching army laying siege to the town. That had been his secret fear, that he would be too late and find the castle and town under siege. Luckily, he'd come in time to bring his father the bad news.

  He set off across the lake with a will. He'd miss breakfast but he'd be there in plenty of time for the midday meal.

  When Soterro finally unlocked her door, Piro was awake and ready for breakfast, stomach rumbling. She'd been waiting for ages. It was mid-morning.

  'Lord Dunstany wants to see you,' Soterro said. She stood up. 'Bring your bundle, girl. I'm not your servant!'

  When they reached the ground floor, Piro found Merofynian soldiers all over the place, packing things into crates and loading them onto carts outside. So much booty stolen from Rolencia. Indignation flooded Piro, but she also rejoiced. In all this confusion, escape would be easy.

  The smell of warm cinnamon buns and freshly heated hot chocolate came from the kitchen, making her mouth water, but Soterro stopped at a door and opened it to reveal a small, windowless chamber opposite the dining room, the apothecary's workroom. Starkiss candles burned, their musky citrus scent heavy on the air.

  The noble scholar looked up from his notes, an array of small tools laid across the desk in front of him. Piro recognised weights and the fine metal tongs of a jeweller.

  'Off you go, Soterro, and see that those buffoons don't break anything,' Dunstany ordered. The door closed and Piro was left alone with him. His intense black eyes studied her. 'Do you know why King Rolen banned Power-workers from Rolencia?' He went on to answer his own question. 'Without the protection of the gods, their Affinity leaves them open to evil. In fact some actively seek out evil. I am not one of those. But I do know something of the sinister arts, for it is necessary to be able to recognise evil, to protect yourself. My enemies find me a very dangerous man. And I don't expect my servants to murder me in my bed.'

  'The knife was not for you, sor,' Piro said quickly, ready now for his questions.

  'Then who was it for?'

  'For my own protection, my lord.'

  'My servants are under my protection. No one will harm you.'

  'Tell that to Grysha!' she snapped. 'His hands wander. I had to elbow him in the ribs once already.'

  He looked surprised, then glanced down to hide the laughter in his eyes. Piro felt a little thrill of power because she'd made him smile.

  When he went on, however, he sounded serious. 'I will speak with him.'

  'I already did and he has the bruises to prove it.'

  Dunstany smiled this time.

  Piro felt a surge of joy, then a tug of sadness. She wasn't going to see the noble scholar any more after this morning.

  How long before they left? It looked as though they were nearly ready. It would be easy to hide in Rolenton, for she knew every lane.

  Dunstany sighed and she looked a question at him. He waved a hand to the candles. 'Do you like the scent?'

  She inhaled deeply and smiled. 'Starkiss. It's beautiful.'

  'Did you know the monks and nuns make dreamless-sleep from the pollen of the starkiss? Dreamless-sleep brings relief from pain, but like all powerful things it can be used to harm as well as help. Combined with another drug, which I will not name, it can be used to bring on hallucinations. Knowledge is power.' His deep voice dropped to an intimate timbre. 'Have you seen one of these before? It is called amber.'

  Picking up a stone with the metal tongs, he held it near the candle. The flame glowed through the stone's translucent surface, rich and alive. Piro came closer, drawn by the amber's beauty. There was an imperfection... no, something was trapped in the stone.

  'This is a jewel now but long ago it was sap, dripping from a tree,' he said softly. She could almost see it happening. 'A little creature crawled into it, became trapped and was encased in the amber. That little creature was you.'

  She blinked and the dark spot resolved its shape. She saw herself in miniature, flowing black hair, naked limbs tinted gold by the honey-coloured amber, suspended forever in a dreaming state.

  Piro gasped and pulled back, heart hammering, skin clammy.

  Dunstany slid a fine gold chain through the ring that was clasped to the piece of amber and hung it around his neck. 'Your untrained Affinity makes you vulnerable, Seela. I have captured a small but vital part of you now, some would call it your soul. So don't be thinking of running away, for you are mine until I release you.'

  Dunstany rang the bell for Soterro.

  Piro stared at him. He'd known what she was thinking, or he'd guessed. She'd been right to fear him. He was too powerful, too cunning.

  Fool. She should have run when she had the chance.

  Now she was trapped!

  When the door opened, Dunstany told Soterro, 'Seela is ready to help with the packing and you won't need to watch her so closely. We have come to an understanding, haven't we?'

  Piro nodded reluctantly, unable to banish the vision of herself trapped within amber.

  Soterro led her back to the kitchen, where the cook was wrapping a leg of smoked lamb in calico.

  'Grab a bun and a hot drink, then get to work, girl.'

  She followed his advice, but despite her hunger the crusty bread had no taste. How could she had been so stupid as to underestimate the noble Power-worker?

  Soon the soldiers had finished and ridden off in all but the last cart. The cook had cleaned out all the store of preserved food and the last of his cooking utensils were being stacked in baskets on the kitchen table when Soterro returned.

  'Palatyne's commandeered a merchant's boat-sled so we'll be riding to Port Marchand in comfort. The lord's overseeing the loading of his precious cargo right now. He wants a bite to eat before we leave.'

  'But everything's packed.'

  Someone knocked at the back door and Piro answered it. Her old nurse held a tray of hot pies.

  Seela beamed. 'Apple and blueberry just as you ordered, and some rhubarb too.'

  'That was good timing.' The cook stood. 'Put the kettle on, girl.'

  Piro filled the kettle and put it over the grate, while Soterro took a slice of pie to Dunstany. As soon as the cook went off to get the coins Piro slipped over to her old nurse.

  'Good news!' old Seela whispered, pulling something out of her apron pocket.

  Piro gasped softly. It was Byren's leogryf-tooth n
ecklace. So he lived. Or had he sent it before the ulfr pack got him?

  'Only this morning a lad brought it to the castle, looking for Byren's honour guard. Byren's in hiding in the high country. I'll wait at the end of the lane. You slip out and I'll take you to him.'

  Piro's heart lifted, then sank. 'I dare not. My master is a Power-worker and he has bound me to him using my Affinity.'

  'A curse on him!'

  Tears stung Piro's eyes as she clasped her old nurse's arm. 'I must stay until he frees me. But I want you to go and take care of Byren. Tell him -'

  'Here's your coppers,' the cook announced, counting them out as he walked over. 'Your pies will come in handy. It will be hard to cook while travelling.'

  Piro backed off a step, relieved that he had failed to notice her intense exchange with the supposed pie-seller. Her old nurse accepted the coins and sent Piro a look loaded with meaning as she left.

  Soterro returned. 'My lord's pleased. He says the pie is fit for a king!'

  Piro hid a grim smile and finished making the hot drink. Byren was safe in the high country and Fyn... She shuddered to think of Fyn, trapped in Halcyon's Sacred Heart with the Mulcibar mystics waiting to pounce on him.

  The hunting howl of an ulfr pack made Byren's gut tighten and fear sent a pulse of energy through his aching limbs, empowering them. But the sensation of renewed vigour was illusory, for even this short journey had exhausted him.

  'Kingson?' The boy looked up to him, eyes wide.

  'It's all right, Rodien. I'm with you,' Byren told him.

  They were alone, since the dyer had gone to check the path ahead. Byren looked up at the sky through the snow-cloaked evergreens. Nearly midday. The thaw was late this year, as though Sylion did not want to release his hold on Rolencia. That's why the ulfr pack was desperate.

  The pony shifted uneasily. Byren caught the reins and put a hand on the beast's muzzle to soothe it. He carried no weapon other than a hunting knife. A flash of silvery grey moved on the edge of his vision. Rodien edged closer, arms sliding around Byren's waist.

  'See that tree.' Byren nodded to a winter-bare birch. 'Climb as high as you can. Whatever happens, don't come down.'

  'Don't leave me.' Rodien clung to him, desperation lending him strength.

  The boy was right. He'd never survive, alone in the woods. But Byren could not defend him on the ground. He caught Rodien under the arms. As he swung the lad up onto the pony his wound protested.

  The old pony shifted uneasily.

  Byren would have liked a sturdy branch to use as a club, but there were none lying conveniently near. Instead he drew his knife and led the pony in the direction the dyer had taken. The silver-grey form melted back into the trees.

  'Where's Da?' Rodien whispered. 'I wants my da.'

  Byren kept watching the surrounding forest. 'Up a tree, most likely. Safest place to be.'

  'Why don't we climb a tree?'

  'If we do, Blossom here's dead.'

  Rodien's eyes widened.

  The tone of the pack's cries changed and Byren knew they had cornered their prey.

  Rodien shuddered, responding instinctively to the sound.

  A ragged cry echoed through the still, snow shrouded evergreens, a man's despairing cry.

  Byren hesitated. If he hadn't been injured and hadn't had the boy to protect, he would have gone to the dyer's aid. But he couldn't lead little Rodien into danger.

  Besides, he knew by the sounds it was too late. The dyer had gone ahead to draw the pack away from them. He'd known what he was doing.

  Byren turned the pony in the other direction.

  Rodien did not argue. Eyes very wide, the lad clutched the pony's coarse mane.

  Byren increased his pace. Hopefully the pack was feeding and they would have time to get away. But they had only gone half a bowshot, down into a hollow, when a grey form detached itself from a shadow and entered the path to confront him.

  Byren swallowed, recognising the leader of the ulfr pack, the one he had lain with in the seep.

  The Affinity beast watched him from intelligent winter sky-blue eyes.

  He froze.

  Last time he had seen this creature, he had offered it his belly and it had let him live. This time he stood tall, one hand on the pony's reins, the other on his hunting knife. Now he wished he'd thought to cut the sled's tracings so that the pony could run free. But there was no time. He must not show weakness.

  The pack leader padded towards them. Byren watched its approach, trying to make sense of what he saw, for there was no threat in the way the Affinity beast moved, only curiosity.

  The pony shuddered and tried to pull back. Byren had to use two hands to steady it. When he focused on the ulfr again it was close enough to touch him, large head and muzzle level with his waist. On its hind legs it would be taller than him.

  Delicately, the Affinity beast sniffed his chest, looked up into his face and licked his closest hand.

  'He likes you,' Rodien marvelled.

  The ulfr sent the boy a quick look, then turned and loped off.

  Byren slowly let his breath out. What had just happened?

  His head was filled with a rushing sound and sparks danced in his vision.

  'Da's not coming back, is he?' Rodien whispered, after what seemed an age.

  Byren swallowed. 'No.'

  'You saved me from the Affinity beasts.'

  'Yes.' Somehow.

  'Where are we going now?'

  The immensity of it hit Byren. He had an old pony and a four-year-old boy to protect, while the Merofynians searched the valley for him. This time he must not fail.

  As if sensing his fears, the boy whimpered. 'I wants Miron.'

  'He'll join us at Cedar tradepost.'

  Rodien accepted this.

  And it was decided. Byren would take Rodien to the tradepost, which was on the path coming down from the pass to Foenix Spar pass. He could leave Rodien with the family who ran it, and then...

  He couldn't think further than that.

  Piro hesitated. Foot on the gangplank, she glanced back to her father's castle, seeing the Merofynian banners flying from Rolenhold's towers. Her stomach lurched.

  Soterro clipped her across the ear, making her eyes water. 'Get moving.'

  Determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, she adjusted her bundle and turned to face the sled-boat. She used to love riding the sled-boats. Now she boarded this one knowing it was taking her away from Byren, and Fyn.

  'Get a move on.' Grysha elbowed her in the ribs as he shoved past.

  She adjusted her grip on the bundle and stepped onto the gangplank, vowing she would return and she would avenge her family.

  Fyn skidded to a halt, and bent to unstrap the skates in the shadow of a wharf. Above him the porters chanted a familiar work song as they loaded a sled-boat. From Rolenton came the equally familiar scents of cooking as people sat down to their midday meal. It felt good to be back home.

  If it weren't for the churning in his stomach, Fyn would have been happy. But he dreaded telling his father the bad news.

  Regaining his feet, he slung the skates over his shoulder and climbed up the wharf. A Merofynian yelled at the porters in badly accented Rolencian. If rumour of the Merofynian invasion had reached Rolenton the foreign merchants would be eager to get out before their cargoes became prizes of war.

  Fyn's head came level with the wharf. A blur of azure wyverns on black surcoats met his eyes as two dozen warriors rode onto the wharf.

  He blinked. The men rode like they owned Rolenton, and did not bother dismounting but milled around, their horses' shod hooves loud on the wooden planks. The porters retreated, casting them fearful glances while the Merofynian leader bellowed for the ship's captain.

  Fyn ducked behind a bale to watch, as a burly sailor made his way across deck to the top of the gangplank.

  'I'm the captain, what d'you want?'

  'This ship has been impounded by order of Overlord
Palatyne.'

  'What's this?' A well-dressed man objected in Ostronite-accented Merofynian. 'Lord Dunstany has hired this sled-boat to take him to Port Marchand. We are to set off as soon as the wind rises.'

  'You'll set off on Palatyne's orders or not at all!' the warrior bellowed.

  Behind the bale, Fyn sank to his knees, head reeling. Overlord Palatyne had already taken the town. He was too late, much too late.

  No. Just because Rolenton had fallen, it did not mean the castle had.

  The clip of a single horse's hooves made Fyn rise and peer over the bale again. A man rode onto the wharf and dismounted. The warriors deferred to him. He wore a rich surcoat emblazoned with both the Merofynian azure and the twin-headed amfina. Palatyne himself, or a messenger from him.

  Fyn watched the man mount the gangplank. The ship's captain deferred to him warily and they both went below.

  Fyn knelt and rested his forehead on the bale. How was he going to get into a castle under siege? And what could he, one acolyte, do to aid his father?

  He would not give in to despair. He had to reach the king.

  Piro noticed the noble scholar's shoulders stiffen as men argued above, their words lost but their tone unmistakable. There was a pause, then heavy footsteps sounded on the gangplank. At the same moment, light footsteps ran down the narrow passage to the main cabin. Both Piro and Dunstany turned to face the door.

  Grysha thrust it open without knocking. 'The overlord's here, master, and he's spitting fire.'

  Dunstany cast Piro a quick look. 'Go see if Cook needs you.'

  But before she could leave the cabin, heavy footsteps echoed down the passage. Grysha cast one look behind him then backed out of the way as Palatyne's broad shoulders filled the doorway.

  'Overlord.' Dunstany inclined his head as much as a noble would to a powerful, unpredictable warlord. 'To what do I owe the pleasure -'

  'Don't play your courtly airs on me. I know what you're up to.' Palatyne fixed black eyes on him. 'You were running back to the king to undermine me behind my back.'