King Breaker (60 page)

As the outer circle of defenders reformed, the wizened Power-worker bowed to Byren, Orrade, Florin and Chandler. He said something in his own language, then returned to the wall.

Byren looked to Vlatajor for a translation.

‘The silfroneer thanks you,’ Vlatajor said. ‘And well he should. He brought the ursodon pack down on us.’

‘Silfroneer?’ Florin asked.

‘That’s what we call Power-workers who bond with a silfron.’ The ambassador lowered his voice and spoke to Byren. ‘You are within your rights to exact some kind of payment from him. Make him vow to serve you for a year and a day, then gift him to the king. His service would be a much finer gift than any jar of scented oil.’

‘Make a year-and-a-day-slave of him?’ Byren repeated, aware of Florin and Orrade listening in. He hated slavery in all forms.

‘King Jorgoskev would be most grateful,’ Vlatajor urged, eyes bright with cunning.

Byren turned away, and his gaze fell on the wizened man. The silfroneer crooned to his Affinity beast as he stroked his bird’s plumage. At his touch, the feathers ruffled then resettled, gradually resuming their darker colour. After a few moments, the bird raised its head; this time its eyes held only a dull glow.

Byren’s honour guard muttered uneasily. Someone commented and several of them laughed. He knew the tone of that laughter. They were relieved to find themselves still alive.

‘Surely it is too dangerous for one man and a bird to come up into the mountains,’ Florin said. ‘Even such a long-legged bird.’

‘Silfrons can run very fast,’ Vlatajor assured her. ‘But they couldn’t escape a pack on the hunt. Their instinct is to hide, as you just saw.’

‘What were the man and his bird doing up here?’ Florin asked.

Byren was intrigued. The ambassador wanted the silfroneer and silver-sniffer for his king. Would he lie to disguise the pair’s true worth?

‘This is the bird’s territory,’ Vlatajor said. The ambassador hadn’t admitted that the Power-worker used his Affinity beast to hunt for silver, but he hadn’t told an outright lie either.

As Florin turned away from Vlatajor, she met Byren’s eye. Her expression said,
Now you know where you stand with the ambassador
. She was clever, his mountain girl.

Byren looked around. His men were weary, suffering from sky-sickness and, now that the immediate threat had passed, they looked ready to drop. ‘We’ll take turns keeping watch.’

He divided the men into three groups, had them build up fires. Florin was taking first watch, Orrade the second and Byren the third, though he would probably wake many times and walk the line this night.

‘Is it true?’ Byren asked Florin softly. ‘Could I ask for a year and a day’s service from the silfroneer and his bird?’

Florin glanced to them. The man slept tucked under the bird’s wing. ‘Yes, but...’

‘What do you think I should do with the silfroneer?’

‘What the ambassador says make sense,’ Orrade said. ‘The pair would make an impressive gift for any king.’

‘He’s a man, not a beast of burden,’ Byren said.

‘It’s only a year and a day.’

‘He would not be able to refuse a request.’

‘The king would be a fool to risk such a valuable asset.’ Orrade shrugged. ‘Look, Byren, you need Jorgoskev’s help, and all you have to offer him is your younger sister in a marriage of alliance that we both know will never happen.’

‘So your advice is to bind the silfroneer in a vow of service, then give him to the Snow Bridge king?’

Orrade’s thin face creased into a grin. ‘My advice is to weigh up all the factors.’

P
IRO SNUGGLED DOWN
on the day-bed in Isolt’s new chambers. It was just like old times, only now Isolt was queen and she wasn’t a slave. Even so, they were still surrounded by powerful enemies.

She was looking forward to leaving the palace, and was ready to sail for Dunstany’s estate first thing tomorrow, but she couldn’t sleep. There was too much Affinity churning through her. She pulled out the new pendant. Unlike the first one Siordun had given her, the stone was black with a golden sheen.

Piro focused, trying to drive Affinity through the stone.

After several moments of fruitless exertion, she tucked the pendant back into her nightgown. That was when she heard Isolt’s soft weeping.

Piro padded into the queen’s bedchamber, climbed up onto Isolt’s bed and stroked her back. ‘I’ll stay if you want me to. Or, better yet, come with me. Byren...’ Piro hesitated. Fond as she was of Byren, she knew he saw Isolt as a duty.

‘I can’t leave the palace now that the lords are returning.’ Isolt sat up, wiping her cheeks. ‘I have to support Fyn, and I have to prepare the betrothal documents.’

Was that the real reason she’d been crying? Was the thought of marrying Byren enough to make her cry herself to sleep?

Isolt had never admitted her feelings for Fyn. Piro suspected Isolt’s strong sense of duty would see her married to a man who did not love her. Where would that leave Fyn?

Piro did not want the three people she loved most in the world making the biggest mistake of their lives. ‘Why were you crying?’

Isolt looked away, mouth working. After a moment she said, ‘I miss Loyalty. Now that she lives in the grotto, I’m afraid she’ll grow apart from me and we won’t be able to bond.’

‘Come on.’ Piro slipped off the bed. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.’

Isolt smiled fondly. ‘You’re not making sense.’

Piro laughed and pulled her to her feet. ‘I can act as a channel to help you bond with Loyalty.’

‘You can?’

She nodded. ‘I did it for Nefysto’s cousin back on Ostron Isle. Come on.’

‘Now?’

‘Why not? I’m leaving tomorrow.’

They grabbed their slippers, threw shawls around their shoulders and left the bedchamber, running on bare feet through the palace corridors and courtyards.

Piro felt light-hearted. She might not be able to save Isolt from a marriage neither she nor Byren wanted, but she could do this one thing, and if it turned out that this was all her Affinity was good for, then so be it.

Chapter Forty-Nine

P
IRO STEPPED OFF
the yacht to find four servants lined up on the jetty. Dunistir House stood on a rise behind them. Lights gleamed in a row of first floor windows. Siordun had told her these were Lord Dunstany’s private chambers, and this was where the old scholar shut himself away when he was supposedly suffering one of his recurring illnesses.

A richly dressed manservant stepped forward. ‘His lordship insisted—’

Piro blinked. ‘Soterro?’

He stiffened. ‘House-steward Soterro.’

Piro realised she should not have admitted to recognising the Ostronite servant, but the surprise had loosened her tongue. Soterro had been his lordship’s head servant during the Merofynian invasion, when she’d served as Dunstany’s slave.

The other three servants looked curious, obviously wondering how Piro Rolen Kingsdaughter knew their steward.

‘Soterro was kind to me when Lord Dunstany helped me escape Rolencia,’ Piro explained. He had been nothing of the sort. He’d considered her beneath him. ‘I recall him with great fondness.’

Soterro had the grace to flush. He bowed low in the Ostronite fashion and gestured to the end of the jetty. ‘The carriage will take you up to the great house as soon as Lord Protector Merofyn is ready.’

‘My brother remained in the palace. The queen has need of him,’ Piro said. She had been about to protest that it was only a short walk to the great house, but the servants looked so eager that she did not have the heart.

As she approached the carriage, the footman opened the door and unfolded the step, then helped her climb in. The vehicle swayed with her weight, then settled. She complimented him on the suspension.

‘The best leather straps,’ he said proudly, climbing up behind the carriage.

Piro beckoned Soterro to the window. ‘Will I see Grysha and Cook?’

He grimaced, obviously remembering how Grysha had grabbed her bottom more than once and Cook had bullied her. ‘Grysha ran away to sea, but Cook still rules the kitchen.’

‘Please give him my compliments.’ Piro was enjoying herself. When Soterro had been in a position of power over her, he had been brusque and high-handed. Now that their positions were reversed, she could be gracious. ‘Ride with me, steward.’

‘I am honoured.’ He climbed into the carriage and sat opposite her. The coachman urged the horses forward. ‘Before you say anything, Kingsdaughter, let me apologise. If I had known who you were—’

‘You thought I was a slave, and you were not kind.’

‘It was not my job to be kind. If Lord Dunstany had thought fit to reveal your true identity, I would have served you as well.’ He bristled. ‘Never let it be said that I am not loyal.’

They had arrived at the great house’s main entrance and he helped her step down from the carriage. A dozen servants waited to greet her. As she was introduced to each one, she memorised their names and positions. Most were elderly, but not as elderly as Lord Dunstany. She guessed they were in their sixties and seventies.

The silver-haired house-keep greeted Piro, eyes bright with tears. ‘Welcome to Dunistir House, Kingsdaughter. And if I may say, you’re every bit as lovely as your grandmother. She often came here as a young woman, on account of her older brother and Lord Dunstany being such good friends. I remember her well.’

Piro felt a sense of loss and reached out to the house-keep. ‘I never met my grandmother. I hope you can find the time to tell me about her.’

The woman beamed. ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, kingsdaughter. Now, I’ll show you to your chamber.’

As Piro was escorted to her room, she had to explain about Fyn all over again. The house-keep was disappointed to hear he would not be coming and bustled off to strip Fyn’s bed and put the furniture under dust covers again.

Piro had a message from Gwalt for his father. He was the only person on Dunistir Estate who knew the true state of affairs. ‘I’d like to see his lordship now, Soterro.’

‘Very well.’

The steward escorted her along the passage to Dunstany’s wing of chambers. Light came from under the door, and someone was playing softly on a dolcimela.

The moment Soterro knocked, the music stopped. A tall white-haired man opened the door. The father was the opposite of his son, who was short and stocky. Old Gwalt wore a high ranking servant’s tabard. Silver thread had been used to embroider the Dunistir star and circle on the indigo cloth. When he bowed, Piro experienced a strong sense of familiarity.

‘His lordship has been looking forward to your visit all day,’ Old Gwalt said.

‘As have I.’ Piro stepped into the chamber. When Old Gwalt closed the door, she saw a flash of jealousy cross Soterro’s face. She dropped her voice. ‘I think the steward resents you.’

‘My family have served Dunistir House for generations.’ Old Gwalt made sure anyone listening at the door would overhear. ‘The steward is a foreigner.’

Piro hid a smile and looked around. She glimpsed the Landlocked Sea through the curtains. Under the windows was a desk, and nearby were several musical instruments, including an upright clavichord. One wall was completely lined with books. ‘What a lovely chamber.’

‘His lordship has always loved music and learning.’ Old Gwalt tilted his head. They both heard the steward’s receding footsteps.

‘Fyn did not come because—’

‘I know. I keep a pica pair.’

Of course he did, otherwise how could he communicate with Siordun when the agent was in Ostron Isle? She gestured to the private chamber and the room beyond, where she could see the end of a tall bed. ‘Is it difficult to maintain the illusion that Lord Dunstany is lying sick in that bed?’

‘Only on two occasions has Soterro managed to get into the music room. And both times I was able to divert him by telling him his lordship was in the bath.’

Piro grinned. ‘Young Gwalt sent you this.’ She handed him a folded message. ‘And he sends his love.’

To give the old man some privacy, she went over to the shelves to study the books. To think, Siordun had grown up here. She heard a noise and caught Old Gwalt watching her.

‘Does Dunstany’s heir suspect?’ Piro asked.

‘That wastrel?’ Old Gwalt’s top lip twisted. ‘My lord always despised him, and would not have him in the house. Once a year, on his lordship’s birthday, Duncaer would bring a gift, only to be turned away at the door. Since Siordun took over, he has kept up the custom. I don’t think Duncaer and his lordship have exchanged a word in over twenty years.’

‘What about when they’re both at the palace?’

‘Duncaer is from a minor branch of the family. He might have seen Dunstany across a crowded feast chamber, but that is as close as he’d get.’

‘None of the servants suspect Siordun is Dunstany?’

‘Not one.’ He gave her a wry half-smile.

It made her realise why he was familiar and why he was so loyal to the Dunistir house.

‘You’re one of Dunstany’s by-blows!’ Piro said, then blushed furiously and cursed her tongue. ‘I’m sorry. I—’

‘You’re absolutely right. I am related to Dunistir House but I’m not Dunstany’s son. We shared the same grandfather.’

‘So you’re related to Siordun?’

‘I look on him as a son.’

F
LORIN WAS EXHAUSTED.
Byren had driven them in a brutal forced march. Despite the cloudless sky, every fifth man had carried a flaming torch. From the Affinity bird’s skittish behaviour, it had been clear the pack kept pace with them. Every now and then, the male ursodon would roar and the females would answer with short, huffing barks.

Florin had breathed a sigh of relief when the path finally left the foot-hills and they left the pack behind, crossing open fields dotted with walled farmhouses.

Now it was almost dusk, but there was still enough light to see the bluish tone of the Silfroneer’s skin. At first, she’d thought he travelled without food or blankets because he’d lost them, and that was why he’d slept under the Affinity beast’s wing, but after watching him eat nothing all day, she had realised his bond with the beast sustained him, and his bluish colouring was caused by his link with the silver-eating beast.