Gargarin pointed at Froi again, just in case Perabo forgot who ‘he’ was. ‘So do you travel to the Lasconians and tell them that perhaps Tariq’s queen doesn’t carry his child? And do they turn their back on saving a king because they believe his mother is a whore? Does the cycle of shit in our lives continue, Perabo? Or do we give Charyn a fighting chance?’
Perabo extinguished the fire with the brew from his mug.
‘We don’t want to be travelling through the woods in the dark,’ was all he said.
Froi rode with Lirah that day.
‘Tell me again,’ she said, asking him to replay every conversation that had taken place between Froi and Quintana on their final night together. Lirah believed the answer to Quintana’s whereabouts lay in those words. ‘You’re leaving something out.’
‘Well … there are certain things that are … private,’ he mumbled, aware that Gargarin and Arjuro were riding beside them.
‘You little beasts,’ Arjuro said. ‘I thought it was only the once.’
Froi seethed. ‘Yes, well … it’s none of your business … and it was a very long and stressful night in Paladozza and we woke up quite a few times … and one thing led to another.’
‘What? With the belly in between?’ Arjuro continued.
‘I’m not going to have this conversation,’ Froi muttered, trying to take the reins from Lirah so they could ride ahead. She pushed his hands away.
‘Then what did you speak about that night?’ she asked.
‘Lists. Of people we trusted. Hers was short. Mine wasn’t. End of conversation.’
The next day they reached what was known as the little woods of Charyn. There in the middle of the kingdom sat a tiny piece of Lumatere, teasing Froi. It was as if one of the gods had picked up Lumatere’s trees and moss and flown it to the neighbouring kingdom. Beyond the woods were the three hills of the north that led to the province of Desantos. But north wasn’t Perabo’s destination for the time being. West of the woods, the Lasconians had taken up residence in a fortress that once belonged to a Serkan lord. They were planning to head south to confront the Nebian army. But from what had taken place at the lake, Froi was certain that the Nebian army would be travelling into these very same woods.
Soon after, Perabo steered his horse off track and they followed him out of the little woods to a clearing of neglected grazing land. In the distance was a heavily guarded wall that surrounded a castle, round in shape and imposing in height. Whoever had constructed it had been interested in impressing as much as defending, and Gargarin’s admiration of the structure was clear. They followed Perabo to the gates and he waved up to the guards on the battlements. Soon enough, the portcullis was raised and they rode into the outer bailey, where men were practising swordplay and hitting targets. Froi noticed that their skills weren’t of the highest standard and his heart sank at the idea of this being the army that would defend Quintana against Bestiano and Nebia. The lads’ banter stopped when they noticed Froi watching.
Perabo dismounted first and whistled to one of the men, who came to take their horses.
Inside the castle, the keep was bustling with the business of the day. There was a fireplace on both the north and south wall and an impressive water-carrying system. Arjuro nudged Froi and indicated Gargarin with a toss of his head and a roll of his eyes.
‘That’s where I went wrong,’ Gargarin muttered.
‘What?’
‘The well shaft. Look. Accessible at all six levels. Imagine all the to-ing and fro-ing I could have saved the servants in the palace.’
‘We’re about to be attacked and he’s thinking of design,’ Arjuro said.
But Gargarin wasn’t listening. His eyes studied every detail of the castle hungrily.
‘It once belonged to the Provincaro of Serker’s cousin as a means of keeping an eye on the north,’ Perabo said. ‘He liked his creature comforts.’
They followed Perabo up one set of winding steps that circled the entire keep, and Froi counted up to seventy archways that afforded a view of what was taking place down below.
‘Don’t look down,’ Perabo warned them when they almost reached the top and the view from the archways became imposing. Froi sensed Perabo was instructing himself more than the others.
‘You obviously haven’t been imprisoned on the roof of a castle in the Citavita, Perabo,’ Lirah said.
‘Or hung upside down over a balconette staring down into the gravina, waiting to die,’ Gargarin added.
‘Nothing worse than being chained to the balconette with your head facing down over that abyss,’ Arjuro joined in, not one to be outdone in the misery stakes.
‘Try balancing on a piece of granite between the godshouse and the palace with nothing beneath you but air,’ Froi said.
Perabo stopped and took a deep breath and looked as if he was going to be sick.
‘Don’t look down, Perabo,’ Froi advised.
In a chamber at the top of the keep they were introduced to Dolyn of Lascow. He was a great-uncle of Tariq on his mother’s side and now led the Lasconians.
‘How long have you and your men been here, Dolyn?’ Gargarin asked, shaking his hand.
‘Too long. We first settled in Serker believing it could be a larger training ground for the army, but the lads were spooked. We’re getting restless here and are about to head south.’
‘Bestiano and the Nebians are on our doorstep,’ Gargarin said. ‘Heading north.’
Dolyn was disturbed by the news. ‘Do you think they’ll try to take this garrison?’
‘I doubt they’ll take the chance just yet,’ Perabo said, having recovered from his dizziness. ‘I’m thinking that they’ll settle an army of that size in one of the valleys between those hills.’
‘We could follow them,’ Arjuro said. ‘They may have a better idea of where Quintana of Charyn is.’
Dolyn noticed Arjuro and held out a hand.
‘It’s an honour to have you here, Priestling. We need all the blessings we can get.’
The Lasconian leader beckoned one of the soldiers over.
‘Find a chamber for the brothers to share,’ he said.
Froi watched Gargarin move a fraction so that his shoulder pressed against Lirah. Gargarin’s eyes fixed on Dolyn. And then he waited.
‘Perhaps two rooms for the brothers,’ the leader of the Lasconians murmured, not acknowledging Lirah. ‘The lad can bunk in with our young men. They’ll be pleased to see a new face.’
‘He can stay with me,’ Arjuro said, and it was left at that for the time being. But soon, Perabo took them aside.
‘It’s best that he bunks down with the lads,’ he said, referring to Froi. ‘They’ll understand your attachment to each other, but not to him.’
Gargarin dismissed him with an irritated hand. ‘It’s not an issue.’
‘No,’ Perabo said firmly. ‘It’s there in every unspoken word between you. The way you walk alongside each other. In your silence. You don’t see, but it speaks loudly that the Lumateran belongs to you all. Make things simple, Gargarin. In the new Charyn, we do not want complications.’
Froi shrugged, but he felt his face redden. He was once able to hide anything from anyone, but his emotions had made him dependent on Gargarin, Lirah and Arjuro.
‘I don’t care where I sleep,’ Froi said. ‘A bed is a bed.’
Judging from the stares when Froi introduced himself to the Lasconian lads, he was going to regret those words.
Chapter 26
The Lasconian lads bunked in the great hall each night after the supper tables were cleared. In those first days with them Froi came to understand that they respected Gargarin and Arjuro, lusted after Lirah, but despised him.
He knew that because they spoke it with their fists. Because if he rounded a blind corner, he’d feel a blow to
