shake and a surge of anger banished her tears. 'I've called your name three times. Don't make me come after you again. Hurry up.'
Dunstany strode through the gate where Captain Temor and his men had bought enough time for Piro to retreat to the castle, a sacrifice wasted by the traitor who opened the postern gate. Fury fuelled her as she scurried after the noble Power-worker. It felt good. She nurtured the sensation.
Just inside Rolenton's gates several servants, wearing the same shade of indigo as Lord Dunstany, waited beside a heavily laden cart.
'Ahh, Soterro.' Dunstany greeted one of them in Rolencian, so he intended Piro to understand. This was confirmed when he turned to her. 'Soterro is the head of my house when I am travelling. You will obey him as you obey me.'
Piro dipped her head as a maidservant would do when greeting a higher-ranked servant. Soterro was an Ostronite name but it was not unusual to see one of the decadent Ostronites serving a great Merofynian lord.
Dunstany switched to Merofynian. 'My new slave needs warm water and fresh clothes. I won't have her take up her duties until she has been thoroughly washed.'
Piro bristled. She was not that dirty. No… but a serving girl might be and this gave her a chance to disguise the fact that her deception was not perfect.
'Give her a room that can be locked. She's from the castle and we don't want her running away.'
The servant looked her up and down and sniffed. 'If that's the pick of the castle's servants I wouldn't want to see the worst.'
Piro gave him an uneasy look, careful to give no sign that she understood anything but his tone. He spoke Merofynian with a slight Ostronite accent, which confirmed her guess.
'There's no female clothing in the chest, my lord,' Soterro said, with some satisfaction.
'Even better. Come along.' Dunstany led them along the street into the town square where the wealthiest merchant houses stood. He strode straight past the proud three and four-storey buildings, heading for the apothecary's. A man stood guard in front of the door, which hung off one hinge.
Dunstany tossed the man a coin and strode into the ground-floor room where the herbalist would have served his customers. Much had been destroyed by Palatyne's men. Cabinets with narrow drawers covered the wall on Piro's left. Some had been tipped on the floor. Symbols told her the drawers were filled with herbs both rare and common. This hadn't interested the looters. But it did interest Piro. She recognised the powdered form of hellsbane, a powerful poison. What were her chances of slipping that in the overlord's wine?
On the mahogany counter, a stack of starkiss-scented candles gave off a delicious citrus aroma even though they were unlit. On the shelves behind, glass jars containing preserved organs gathered dust.
Piro glanced to the right. There were framed illustrations of bodies, both human and Affinity beast, with detailed diagrams of their internal organs. The notes were written so small they were almost illegible.
Trust an Affinity renegade to take over an apothecary's shop.
Beyond this room there would be a hall with a chamber where the herbalist prepared his treatments and one where the family dined, then the kitchen. The family would have slept on the next floor and the servants in the attic above that. She tried not to think of the family that used to live here.
Dunstany surveyed the mess disgustedly, then pointed to the crooked door. 'Soterro, get that fixed and tidy up here.'
'Certainly, my lord.'
While Dunstany strode off, Soterro ordered the others about in Merofynian and then, seeing Piro looking lost, beckoned her impatiently.
She followed him through to the kitchen, where it seemed the looters hadn't bothered to venture, for the room was tidy. A little man who was as wide as he was tall entered from the courtyard with three chickens, their necks freshly wrung.
He tossed them to a kitchen boy. 'Don't just sit there, Grysha, get plucking. The lord will want a hot dinner and no excuses.' He paused as he eyed Piro with growing resentment. 'I supposed I'm to look after the new slave?'
'You heard the master, Cook,' Soterro said. 'He wants her washed and dressed.'
'What am I, her nursemaid?' Cook grumbled. 'There's no hot water. I've only just lit the grate.'
'Then she can use cold and be grateful for it.'
Though they spoke Merofynian, Piro suspected they would probably have been just as rude if they thought she could understand them.
Soterro turned to Piro, speaking excellent Rolencian. 'Fill a bucket with water and come this way.'
She used the pump over the stone sink to fill the bucket and the cook tossed her a rag to wash herself with. It was already filthy. Piro eyed it reluctantly, but a maidservant who had become a slave would not protest.
'Hurry up, I haven't got all day,' Soterro snapped. 'This way.'
Back in the next room he dug through one of his master's chests until he found what he was looking for, tossing her a bundle of clothes. 'Here, catch. Something will fit you. Come on.' He led her into the hall saying, 'You can call me Master Soterro. And you always call our master Lord Dunstany, or 'my lord.' He's a great man. He's been advisor to the kings of Merofynia for seventy years!'
Piro blinked. Except for the bone-ache that twisted his hands, Dunstany looked no older than fifty. It appeared long life was a by-product of renegade Affinity.
A youth passed them, carrying a pan of broken glass.
'Put that aside and bring your tools.'
They waited until he returned, then Soterro led them up the stairs. The head servant was puffing when he came to the second flight of much narrower stairs. At the top landing he opened door after door until he found a tiny room tucked under the ceiling. It was piercingly cold. 'What's your name, girl?'
Piro blinked. 'Seela, sor. I mean, Master Soterro.'
He gave her a sharp look. 'That's a Merofynian name.'
'I'm named after me ma's ma. She was from Merofynia. Reckon she — '
He silenced her with a wave. 'Get cleaned up.' He turned his back on her to speak with the carpenter. 'I want a bolt fixed to this door and her locked in safely before you come back downstairs.'
As the youth got out his tools, Piro sat on the single low cot to watch, while he fixed a large metal bolt to the door. He did not meet her eyes but, when he was done, he cast her a shy glance.
She turned her face away, not wanting to make friends with Dunstany's servants. The youth shut the door and she heard the bolt slide home.
As the air slowly left Piro's chest, she felt a little light-headed. The water in the bucket was cold, so she bathed quickly. Determined to keep her wits about her, she changed into the boy's leggings and the azure thigh- length pinafore of a Merofynian court page. Its heavy brocade yoke came down to her mid-chest, hiding her breasts. Dressed like this she could pass for a boy. A pretty boy. She pulled her hair into a single tight plait like the Merofynian servants wore, and sat the white rabbit-fur cap on her head. There was no mirror, but if she stood in the right spot she could just make out her reflection in the attic window.
Excellent. No one would recognise Piro Rolen Kingsdaughter now.
Her stomach rumbled. How could she be hungry after everything that had happened?
Could she climb out the window? Piro forced the catch, knocking snow off the sill. It landed on the roof of the kitchen far below. The slates of the attic roof were slick and icy. In desperation she might risk trying to cross them, but not today, not when there could be easier ways to escape.
She gazed out at the many steep, snowcapped roofs of Rolenton. Above the town Rolenhold sat on its pinnacle, with the Dividing Mountains rising high behind it, shrouded in clouds. Palatyne's azure and black flags hung from Rolenhold's two gate towers. She felt as limp as those flags.
Her home, her whole life lay in ruins. The overlord had set out to destroy King Rolen and all his kin to escape a prophecy.
I make my own fate! he'd claimed.
And so he did.
A small, grim smile tugged at Piro's lips. Overlord Palatyne might have killed her family and stolen their kingdom, but he had overlooked one small, insignificant slave girl who knew which herbs could kill. She would fulfil the prophecy!
