Finnikin of the Rock

'And what is it that you'd like to discuss, my lord? As we have mentioned each time we return here, the only hope for Lumatere is land for our exiles.'

'And as I have said to Sir Topher year after year, why would the king of Belegonia be interested in carving up his land?'

'You contacted us,' Finnikin said, not hiding the anger in his voice. 'We came here because you invited us. Why waste our time, my lord? Our people are dying, and you make us travel all the way here to see you.'

'Give me information I don't already have, Finnikin. Tell me that you're attempting to return home and I will ask for the king's assistance.'

'We don't have a home,' Finnikin snapped. 'Push for land, Lord August. That is all we want. A piece of Belegonian land by the river. We will settle there and fend for ourselves, and the Belegonians need not worry.'

'If we have our Guard, I will bet my life that Balthazar comes out of hiding,' Lord August said in a low tone.

'The Lumateran Guard no longer exists.'

'As long as Trevanion lives, it exists.'

Finnikin pushed back his hair in frustration. 'Are you trying to trap me, my lord? Has my father escaped from one of the land's prisons and are you trying to locate him?'

Lord August laughed with little humor. 'Escape? Not for want of his Guard trying. I've told you before, I have no idea where he is. They transferred him in secrecy one night seven years ago. All I know is that they took him to Yutlind Nord, but he no longer seems to be there. I suspect the ambassador knows, but he refuses to speak of Trevanion. He says he honors the wishes of the captain.'

Finnikin dug his fingernails into his palms.

'I remember the times I would visit him in the prison here,' Lord August continued. 'He would only ever ask one question: 'Is my boy safe?' As long as the answer was yes, he did not care what happened to him. But he could be persuaded by you, Finnikin. If Trevanion was found and freed, his Guard would come out of hiding, and then we would have the most powerful men of Lumatere to lead us home.'

'Even if we had my father and the Guard and the heir, have you forgotten that we're actually missing a kingdom?' Finnikin said sharply.

'The truth lies with the heir, Finnikin. Balthazar will know how to get us inside. The gifted ones among us are speaking. They sense something. Someone.'

'Let me talk to the king,' Finnikin repeated.

The duke shook his head, a look of angry disappointment on his face, and suddenly Finnikin felt as if he were facing his father.

'The king will want a favor in return,' Lord August said dismissively.

'They can afford to have us here, my lord. It is why we have chosen Belegonia and not Osteria. Look at all the open space in this kingdom. We traveled five days to arrive here, through the most lush and fertile land. All empty. Wasted. While our people live in overcrowded camps.'

'They will say it is not their responsibility, Finnikin.'

'Then whose responsibility are we?'

'They will say that they have done enough! That our people need to help themselves. To integrate. They claim they have no control over the outlaws who harrass some of the camps. No control over their own people, while ours are at the mercy of the oppressed of each land who relish the opportunity to be an oppressor.'

'Is that what you believe?'

Lord August stared at him. 'Do you think I don't continually ask myself if I could have done more? Do you think I don't visit the people in those camps and want to take every one of them into my home? But whom do I choose, Finnikin? The motherless child? The pregnant woman? The man who has lost his entire family?' He shook his head, and Finnikin knew he was being dismissed. 'Tell the king something he might find useful, and he may come to your aid.'

Finnikin stood, hopelessness rendering him speechless.

'Then tell him this.'

The voice came from behind him. A strong voice, yet hoarse as if it were new to speech. She spoke in the Lumateran language, and it sent a shiver through Finnikin's body.

'Tell him the impostor king did not work alone,' Evanjalin said, making her way across the room toward them. 'Tell him that Lumatere was never the objective, just the means.' She stood by Finnikin's side. With a voice, she looked different. Words put fire in her eyes in the same way music had.

'What better way for cunning Charyn to take control of Belegonia, its most powerful rival, than to place a puppet ruler in the kingdom between them. And when Charyn decides to plunder Belegonia, the bloodshed in Lumatere will pale in comparison.'

Lord August walked toward them until he was eye to eye with Evanjalin. Finnikin could hardly breathe. She brushed up against his arm, and he felt her tremble.

'Who are you to know such things?' the duke whispered in their mother tongue.

'When one is silent, those around speak even more, my lord.'

'And what do you hope to achieve with this information?' He looked at Finnikin. 'What's going on here, Finnikin?'

'You asked for something the king of Belegonia did not already know,' Finnikin said, as if rehearsed. 'We have given it. So what can we take away with us in return? An audience with your king, perhaps?'

Lord August's face was white with fury. He grabbed hold of Finnikin roughly. 'My king,' he spat, 'is dead. The king of Belegonia is my employer. Never mistake one for the other.'

The girl reached over and released Lord August's hands from Finnikin. 'So if we are to return to Lumatere, you would leave all this?' she asked. 'Security. Privilege. In exchange for a kingdom that could be razed to the ground at any moment? Just say your lands are no longer there, my lord? Maybe worked by another who believes that he is entitled to them over you. Would you be so eager to return to Lumatere if you had nothing to go back to?'

He stared at the two standing before him. 'Led by Balthazar and his First Man?' he asked. 'Protected by the King's Guard? Blessed by the priest-king? Say the words, and I will be on my knees with my hands in the soil, planting the first seed.'

Neither Finnikin nor Evanjalin spoke until they were outside the duke's residence. Finnikin grabbed her arm. 'Explain to me your vow of silence!' he demanded in Lumateran.

She placed a finger across his lips. 'Sir Topher would be furious to know that you're speaking our mother tongue in public,' she said quietly, surprising him even more by speaking Belegonian.

When they returned to the camp, the thief from Sarnak was tied to a tree. The boy let out a string of expletives, spittle flying, hatred in his eyes. Still filled with his own anger, Finnikin walked over and grabbed him by the hair.

'My mother, unlike yours, never exchanged sexual favors for a piece of silver,' he said, addressing the first insult by banging the boy's head against the trunk of the tree. 'And,' he said with another resounding thump, 'although I'm very familiar with that part of the female body, I take offense at being labeled one.'

'I'm presuming by your mood that things did not go well with the duke,' Sir Topher called from where he sat by the fire.

Finnikin joined him. 'She spoke.'

'Evanjalin?' Sir Topher was on his feet in an instant. 'What did she say to you?'

'She spoke Lumateran in the presence of the Duke. And later she spoke to me in Belegonian.'

Sir Topher glanced over to where Evanjalin was preparing their supper. 'Finnikin, what did she tell you?' he asked urgently.

'What you have always suspected about the impostor king and the attack on Lumatere.'

Sir Topher paled. 'Puppet king to the Charynites?'

Finnikin nodded.

'And Lord August?'

'He will take it to the king of Belegonia, but only if we return to Lumatere with my father's Guard. More talk about Balthazar as well.'