lived?
Not knowing which of her brothers to mourn was worse than knowing and mourning.
A finger prodded painfully in her ribs.
'You forgot the sauce. Go get it,' Soterro hissed and she hurried to obey.
Apart from one sharp glance when she returned, Dunstany paid no attention to her. The overlord and his two Power-workers ate in silence. Dunstany used the utensils with the same precise elegance as Piro had been taught. Soterro watched his master's guests eat with barely disguised disgust. Palatyne devoured his food, tearing into it with his teeth, and the Utlander ignored all but the knife, spearing his food on the end of it.
The eating done, Dunstany signalled Piro to clear the table.
'And what news of Cobalt?' Dunstany asked, as she removed the plates.
'His body's crippled now, to match his crippled claim to the throne.' Palatyne was well pleased. 'As a broken man he is even more useful. No, everything is going according to plan, but for that accursed kingson. I can't have Rolen's heir wandering Rolencia, stirring up the people against me.' He glared at his table companions.
Piro hid her dismay. He'd said 'Rolen's heir' which meant Lence was free, or did it? If Lence had been killed, Byren would be heir. She felt so frustrated she wanted to break something.
'What good are mystics and Power-workers if they can't find one troublesome warrior?' Palatyne demanded.
The Utlander and Dunstany exchanged looks, in agreement on something.
The noble scholar spoke, choosing his words carefully. 'Affinity is like fire, a tool that can be used to perform tasks. Like fire, it has its limitations. It — '
'I don't need a lecture, Dunstany. I want you to try and find him now. Let's see who is successful, the Merofynian noble or the Utlander!' Palatyne's dark eyes gleamed with cruel delight as he pulled something from inside his vest, unrolling a stained scrap of material to reveal a human finger.
Piro blinked.
'King Rolen's ring finger,' Palatyne announced.
Blood roared in Piro's ears.
'I know a little of your renegade arts.' Palatyne was very pleased with himself. 'It is easier to find someone if you have something of theirs.'
'Father's blood calls to son's!' The Utlander cackled.
She hated them, hated them all.
'Clear this, Soterro,' Lord Dunstany ordered, indicating the wine bottle and goblets.
Soterro nudged Piro and they hastily cleared the table. As Piro took the gravy dish, Dunstany said, 'Return and stand behind me, slave. I may have need of your services.'
It was only as Piro put the dish on the sideboard that she realised what the Utlander meant. They would use her father's finger to point to the missing kingson, but it would point to her since she was the nearest blood relative.
A surge of panic made her heart race. Wiping trembling fingers on her leggings, she wondered what to do. Running was hopeless. She eyed the table, clear now except for the finger which lay on the gleaming cherrywood surface. Somehow she could not see it as her father's finger. It was just a threatening object. What if she picked up the finger and flung it in the fire?
No point. It wouldn't burn quickly enough to be destroyed and her actions would betray her.
What could she do?
If the finger revealed who she was, Piro decided she would drive her hidden knife straight into Overlord Palatyne's cunning black heart. The blade felt reassuringly solid inside her sleeve.
'Soterro, bring me my Duelling Kingdoms board,' Lord Dunstany ordered. He beckoned Piro, who went to stand just behind him, slightly to his left. His formidable black eyes seemed to hold a warning that was meant only for her. 'Say nothing, slave. You will break my concentration.'
Soterro returned with the game board, which was larger than the one King Rolen used and hinged down the middle. Lord Dunstany opened it out, revealing a beautifully made Kingdoms board. A gold vineleaf border twined around the edge, salt-water wyvern scales had been set into the wood, filling the sea with gleaming blue. The two crescents of Rolencia and Merofynia were made from white mother-of-pearl while black onyx indicated the Dividing Mountains and the border of the Snow Bridge. The spars poked out from the dividing mountains like the spokes of a wheel. Like Ostron Isle and the Snow Bridge, they were made of mother-of-pearl.
Dunstany adjusted the board until he was happy with its position and, with a nod to his colleague and opponent, placed the king's finger in the Headlands, facing the valley of Rolencia. Piro noticed that the overlord's eyes gleamed and he shifted in his seat, as if he was both fascinated and fearful.
'You are dismissed, Soterro,' Lord Dunstany said, then nodded to the other Power-worker. 'You may go first, Utlander.'
Piro wondered briefly why no one used his name, then remembered hearing somewhere that Utlanders believed their names held power.
This Utlander made several passes over the finger, not touching it, but stroking the air above it. He frowned and whined a phrase under his breath, over and over. Piro felt a thickening of the atmosphere, as if a storm were imminent. Her nostrils stung as though she had inhaled repugnant fumes. They said evil renegades could be distinguished by their foul stench. Her vision wavered as she shifted to Unseen sight. The Utlander and the noble scholar both radiated Affinity. Oddly enough, a dull glow also emanated from Palatyne. So he was sensitive to Affinity. No wonder he was both fearful of it and fascinated by it. They all focused on the board and the finger. She hoped that, standing behind Dunstany, any Affinity coming off her would be mistaken for his.
Even so, she eased the knife down until its hilt rested in the palm of her hand.
All the small hairs on her body rose as the king's severed finger crawled slowly across Rolencia. Her father had been a hard worker and a fighter all his life and his hands reflected this. The work-blunted nail came to rest, pointing to Rolenton. Or to Piro who was directly in line with it, behind Dunstany.
'Ha!' Palatyne said. 'It points to Rolenton where all the king's ancestors are buried. Your focus is not refined enough, Utlander.'
Piro let her breath out slowly and eased her grip on the knife hilt, returning it to its hiding place.
'I quested for Rolen's blood kin!' the Utlander insisted. 'Rolen's children are half-Merofynian. It points to you, Lord Dunstany. You are confusing the power because you are related to the old royal line of Merofynia through their mother's great, great aunt.'
'Enough talking! I want the kingson dead,' Palatyne ground out. 'The way you Power-workers snipe and snap at each other, I swear you are more of a hindrance than a help.'
'Overlord.' Lord Dunstany gave him a smile of apology. 'Let me try.'
The Utlander sneered but watched closely, his eyes shrouded beneath bristling brows as Dunstany pressed his finger tips to his temples and closed his eyes.
This time Piro did not feel a sense of oppression. The back of her neck tingled and she felt as if she was slowly rising through the roof of her skull. She lifted higher until she hung over the table, looking down on the three men and herself.
Then she was arrowing out across Rolencia, searching.
Chapter Fourteen
While rolling over in his sleep, Fyn felt something burn his chest. He sprang up, pulling the Fate from its resting place under his jerkin. The opal glowed with Affinity.
Fascinated and fearful, Fyn opened his mind to greet the mystics master. But it was a stranger, a presence which winged across Rolencia searching for something. It had to be a renegade Power-worker.
Even as he thought this, an image took form in his mind, the castle hunt-master with a bloodhound on leash, sniffing out a trail. Searching… for who or what?
The Fate? It called those with Affinity.
Fyn fought panic. He was no mystic. Without the mystics master to aid him, how could he do battle? He had
