The Uncrowned King (19 page)

'You know her face?'

He nodded.

'Go to the gate. I've ordered the townsfolk sent back to Rolenton. If she gets past you, I'll have your head. Understand?'

The man nodded, his face growing pale.

As he scurried off, Palatyne turned to the servants. 'Is she hiding amongst you lot? Come on, give her up!'

No one spoke. They froze, staring at him like rabbits enthralled by a snake.

He threw back his head and laughed.

A voice piped up in the echo of his laugh. 'It takes a brave man to kill defenceless women and children.'

Piro winced as she recognised the blind spit-turner.

Palatyne nodded to his men, who dragged the old man over to the overlord. 'Repeat that.'

'I said, it takes a brave man to murder women and children,' he said, voice wavering only with age.

'What would you know? You can't even see!'

'I don't need eyes to see into your heart. Your men must be blind to follow -'

His words died on his lips as Palatyne thrust a hunting knife through his heart. The overlord kicked the body aside dismissively but Piro could tell the blind man's words had made the men uneasy.

'Tonight we break open barrels of the castle's best Rolencian red to celebrate in King Merofyn's name!' Palatyne roared. 'But first - a bag of gold for the man who brings me the kingsdaughter, dead or alive.'

Dozens of them scrambled to do his bidding.

As if freed from a spell, Piro turned and fled, cursing the rich embroidered gown which proclaimed her status.

She knew the castle intimately. As a child she'd played hide-and-seek with her brothers. Now, moving on soundless feet, she ran down the storage passage, heading for her usual hiding places. Then she stopped.

Hiding was pointless. Eventually she would have to come out for food. Palatyne's men would search until they found her.

What could she do?

Men yelled, their voices coming closer as they slammed doors and thundered up stairs searching room by room. This was her nightmare come true. The dreams had become reality. She should have been forewarned!

No time for regrets.

Desperate, Piro sprinted down the long corridor, darting through a stillroom into the castle laundry beyond. Here she almost tripped over a girl, whose head lay at a funny angle.

Piro turned her over. Someone must have struck her - her nose was broken. The lower half of her face was obscured by blood. Piro felt the girl's throat. No pulse. Then she noticed the overturned chair and the narrow window. The poor thing had been trying to climb out when her chair tipped and she had fallen, breaking her neck.

Biting back a sob of despair, Piro ran on, but in the storeroom beyond she caught sight of men tossing aside cured meats and smashing preserves as they searched.

Trapped.

Ducking back into the laundry, Piro stood over the slight, dark-haired girl, thinking furiously. Palatyne had sent his men to bring back King Rolen's daughter. Here was a dead girl of the right age.

Her own life hung in the balance. This was no time to be squeamish.

The poor girl's skirt and shirt weren't bloodied, but the apron was. Piro flung off her own red gown, then knelt and undid the girl's garments, begging her forgiveness for this desecration.

First, she freed the girl's hair from its bun and pinned her own cap of red velvet and gold lace in place. With no time to make a neat bun of her own hair, she twisted it up and knotted the thick length once.

As she went to pull her dress onto the girl's limp form, her emblem swung forwards. Must not forget that, and the Keys of Office. Piro tugged the emblem off and slung it over the girl's neck. Luckily the poor maid was slightly smaller than Piro so it was easy to get the costly gown laced up and belt tied with the Keys of Office in place.

She tugged on the girl's skirt and shirt, then barely had time to toss the bloodied apron onto a pile of dirty washing and pluck a clean one from the laundered clothes, dropping it over her shoulders before the overlord's men flung the door open, startling her.

Piro gave a shriek of real fear and dropped to her knees next to the body of the girl in the red velvet dress. 'Don't touch 'er, don't you touch the kingsdaughter!'

She wept and kicked, throwing herself over the body. Using the rough speech of the servants, she swore at them, repeating words she'd overheard the grooms mutter when a harness broke.

One lifted Piro by the shoulder straps of the apron, as if she was a kitten, and tucked her under his arm, while the other turned the imposter-Piro over onto her back.

At that moment Piro noticed the girl's grubby, bare feet and recalled her own hand-sewn slippers. Sick fear gripped her, but she had not come this far to be caught and killed. Quick as a thought, she slipped her toes into the slippers' heels and kicked them off. She kicked them off one after the other, weeping and writhing all the while to disguise her actions.

'The kingsdaughter is dead,' the first man muttered in Merofynian, having inspected the body. He pointed. 'Tried to climb out the window. Lost her good shoes.' He bent and scooped them up. After inspecting the beading and seeing the semi-precious stones, he pocketed the slippers.

'Dead is dead. Let's get our reward!' the other said. 'And I'll have one of them slippers, thanks.'

'Of course,' the first agreed.

Without another word, her captor threw Piro over his shoulder, while the other man scooped up the limp form of the dead serving girl in the red velvet gown. Piro prayed they would not notice the supposed kingsdaughter's dirty feet, or her own clean toes.

The men strode up the passage, talking of how they would spend their reward. Hanging over the man's shoulder, Piro felt dizzy and nauseous. When they marched into the great hall, all the rich wall hangings and men-at-arms in Merofynian colours swung past her upside-down.

Dumping her on the floor by the great fireplace with the other servants, the men marched across to their overlord with the body of the dead girl.

Palatyne rose to meet them, going around the table to inspect their trophy as they laid the body of the imposter kingsdaughter at his feet. The noble scholar joined him, kneeling to inspect the body.

'Broken neck. Her nose was broken first,' Dunstany said softly in Merofynian.

'I don't care how she died,' Palatyne announced dismissively.

Piro huddled against the edge of the fireplace, letting her hair fall over her tear-streaked face, tucking her clean toes under her skirt hem.

'Where is the emblem?' Palatyne demanded in Merofynian.

The nearest man fumbled, feeling around the dead girl's neck until he pulled off the royal pendant and presented it to his overlord. 'Here it is, my lord.'

'And here's the queen's Keys of Office.' Dunstany undid the waist sash to remove them. With a twitch of the skirt he straightened the supposed kingsdaughter's gown. Piro whispered a prayer of thanks to Halcyon, goddess of luck, for the gown was a fraction too long and covered the maidservant's grubby feet.

Dunstany tossed the keys to Palatyne, who caught and pocketed them, well satisfied. Then he hung the royal emblem around his neck, where it settled with the others on his chest. He sent the men off to collect their reward and perched on the table, swinging one leg.

The Utland Power-worker rejoined the overlord's party, pausing to inspect the supposed kingsdaughter.

'So this is Pirola Myrella Queensdaughter?' he muttered, glancing down at her. 'This one might have been useful alive. What can one little girl do?'

'You saw what the mother was capable of, and her hardly able to lift that sword.' Palatyne drained his wine. 'What of Cobalt? Will he live?'

This made Piro wonder why Palatyne suffered Cobalt to live if he believed one of King Rolen's kin would be his downfall, or did the stain of illegitimacy that had kept Cobalt's father from inheriting the throne, save Cobalt?

'I've done what I can for him,' the Utlander said. 'Only time will tell.'

'That's what I hate about you Power-workers, never a straight answer,' Palatyne growled, but he was in too good a mood to dwell on this. 'Fill your goblet.'

Topping up his own goblet with fine Rolencian wine, he lifted it in a toast. 'To King Rolen's kin, may they all be dead by nightfall!'

The Utland Power-worker echoed the toast, as did the noble scholar and the warriors, who Palatyne had favoured with a place at the high table. Among them, Piro saw battle-hardened faces, men she guessed had been with the overlord since his days on Amfina Spar. She had expected to see the young lords of the great families of Merofynia, but there were none. Surely the great families of Merofynia had not sent Palatyne off to crush Rolencia without making sure their sons had a share of the booty and glory?

'More wine!' Palatyne called. 'If there's one thing Rolencia can do right, it's make a good red!'

His men cheered and one leapt to his feet to offer a toast to Palatyne's clever strategy. The overlord grinned and accepted the adulation as his right. All the while, he stood over the dead girl's body as though she were nothing more than a farm animal.

Piro shuddered. Not far from her, the servants huddled together, whispering and weeping. No one looked her way. There were some amongst them who, if they'd bothered to take a good look at the dead girl's bloodied face, would have realised she wasn't Piro.

She felt herself under observation and saw Halcyon's healer speaking with Seela, both turning away quickly. Piro's heart seemed to miss a beat. The healer and her old nurse would not give her away, but would the rest of the castle's servants remain loyal?

It would take only one slip to reveal her deception. Anxiously, Piro studied those who served their new masters. Perhaps they were too busy to notice one dishevelled serving girl. Perhaps they avoided looking at the body, which was just a heap of red velvet and dark hair. Or perhaps they wished to see Overlord Palatyne tricked, for no one spoke up. No one wanted to share the fate of the queen and the spit-turner.

That reminded Piro. She looked, but there was no sign of their bodies, only a stained patch on the stones.

Palatyne stood and gestured to the body at his feet. 'Get rid of this. It's putting me off my roast!'

His men laughed as if this was impossible, and Palatyne enjoyed their reaction. He didn't bother to return to his chair, but sat himself on the table and grabbed a turkey leg, tearing into it.

'There is still the other kingson, my lord,' the Utland Power-worker said, his voice carrying in a lull. Piro realised that since they did not expect anyone to speak Merofynian, they felt free to talk strategy in front of the servants.

'The abbey will have fallen by now.' Palatyne grinned wolfishly and gestured to the Utlander. 'I expect your brother to bring me Fyn Kingson's emblem by tomorrow night.'

Piro's vision blurred. Fyn, dead? Impossible. How could the abbey fall when it was protected by the warrior monks?

'What of the one that escaped?' the Utlander asked.

Lence had escaped? That meant the emblem was Byren's. Palatyne had said not to worry about him. Piro's heart sank. Remorse lanced her. How could she wish for Byren's survival when it meant Lence's death?

'He's probably hiding in the mountains with what remains of that estate's people,' Palatyne jeered. 'King of a pig pen!'

His men laughed and clapped, for in Merofynian it was not only an alliteration, but rhymed as well. Piro shivered. He was clever, this overlord, and quickwitted. And she still didn't know which twin lived, although she thought it was Lence.

'See, Dunstany, I make my own fate!' Palatyne lifted his goblet to the noble scholar.

Dunstany tipped his head in silent acknowledgement to his overlord, while the Utland Power-worker smiled, pleased to see his rival mocked.

The noise level rose as the wine flowed and the men celebrated. Piro's head began to thump with their shouting. The remaining captive servants seem to have been forgotten.

A man hurried between the gilt-edged columns, radiating self-importance as he crossed the hall. He bowed to Palatyne and waited until the overlord indicated he was to speak.

'We've found King Rolen's trophy room, my lord. Treasures that -'

'Take me there.' Palatyne swung his legs to the floor and strode off, passing within touching distance of Piro, who felt the wind of his passage on her hands as she hugged her knees. Since she had been living hand to mouth, her nails were bitten down to the quick and matched her disguise.

Half a dozen of Palatyne's warriors and the Utland Power-worker hurried past.

Lord Dunstany was the last. As he approached Piro, the healer waylaid him. On the edge of her vision Piro sensed old Seela watching them closely.

'Your pardon, Lord Dunstany,' she said in Rolencian. 'I am a healer. I should be treating the injured. May I take my servant and go?' She gestured to Piro.

The noble scholar glanced in Piro's direction.

Silently thanking the healer for her quick wits, Piro scrambled to her feet and bobbed a quick bow, head bowed. She hardly dared to breathe.