Lord Dovecote straightened to his full height, silver hair bright against his pale, partly paralysed face. 'Before the gods and these servants I disinherit Orrade Dovecoteson. I disown you. I disown you, I disown you. Now leave my estate and never set foot on it again.'
The servants stood there stunned, a plump middle-aged woman with a damp apron, an old man with a candle trimmer, two girls of thirteen carrying clean washing and two boys of fourteen, who must have been out chopping wood for they were sweating profusely.
'I'll go, and gladly.' Orrade stood stiff and regal, looking like a younger version of his father.
The puppies whimpered. When one nearly fell off the bed Byren went to save it, but Elina scooped it up from under his hands.
'Don't touch it. Don't touch any of them.' She gathered all the puppies in her arms. Face damp with tears, eyes glazed with shock, she turned on him. 'Don't come near me. I never want to see you again!'
'Housekeeper, escort my daughter to her room. She's had a shock.'
'Father!' Garzik protested, as Elina marched out with the three women.
'Come, son and heir.' Lord Dovecote beckoned him.
Garzik glanced to Orrade and Byren.
'Now!' Lord Dovecote's voice cracked dangerously.
Garzik looked to Byren, who did not want to trigger another brain spasm in the old lord so he gave a slight nod.
When Garzik joined his father, the old man steered him towards the door then turned to the wood choppers. 'See that these two are out of the house and off Dovecote land by dusk.'
The two boys nodded mutely and Lord Dovecote marched out with Garzik, who cast one desperate look over his shoulder then was gone.
Orrade sagged. 'Byren, can you ever forgive me?'
He was too stunned to speak, even to think.
The silence stretched.
'Master Orrade?' one of the wood choppers finally ventured, out of his depth.
'Don't worry. I can find my own way off the estate.' Orrade waved a hand in their direction. 'Go, all of you.'
They fled.
Orrade sank onto the bed. 'Byren, I swear before Halcyon and Sylion, if I could undo this, I would.'
'Can't be helped,' Byren muttered, mouth dry. Then anger flashed through him. 'Why did you have to wear that bloody pendant?'
'If you hated it so much, why didn't you get rid of it?' Orrade countered.
Why hadn't he? Byren snorted. 'I forgot I still had it.'
Orrade grinned ruefully. 'You always were too easy-going.'
They said nothing. The great house was oddly silent, as if all the servants were creeping about and speaking only in whispers.
'Suddenly I am a man without home or allegiance,' Orrade said, his voice gradually gathering strength. 'But I can still hold to my ideal, a world where a man who follows Palos is respected for his intrinsic worth, not despised for his — '
'Eh, Orrie. I don't think Rolencia's ready for you or your ideals,' Byren muttered. He did a mental calculation. 'It's been nearly thirty years since the last Servant of Palos was executed, but their betrayal is still fresh in the minds of my father's generation — '
'Their betrayal? What of all the times the warlords betrayed Rolencia? What of King Byren the Wicked who locked his nephew in Eagle Tower? Little Lence was the rightful heir, but he never lived to rule!'
'You're right, our history is a litany of betrayals but — '
'The Servants of Palos are particularly hated because they are lovers of men. I know. I'm sorry, Byren.'
He shrugged, forgetting Orrade couldn't see. 'What's done can't be undone. I guess we should pack and go.'
'Go where? You can go back to Rolenhold. Father will keep his word and Elina and Garzik will not reveal the reason I was disinherited. You can be sure I will never betray you, so you will not lose your inheritance because of me.'
While Orrade spoke, the ramifications hit Byren. What would his father say if he knew…
Byren fought a wave of nausea as he imagined King Rolen's reaction. At eighteen, his father had seen his own father betrayed and nearly lose the kingdom, all because of the Servants of Palos. His father would be devastated and Lence…
His twin would never believe it. Byren felt relieved as he thought this through. Lence would vouch for him and help convince their father. The three of them had gone wenching together enough times for Lence to know it was a lie.
But hopefully it wouldn't come to that. No one need ever know, not Fyn, his younger brother who had been gifted to Halcyon Abbey, not his mother or sister. His mouth went dry. But what if the servants suspected Orrade's real feelings? He knew how quickly rumour could spread. Before long, lies would seem like truth to those who did not know him. He groaned because it wasn't even remotely true.
Why did Orrade have to carry that accursed pendant?
Someone knocked on the door.
'Yes?' Orrade called.
The door opened to reveal the kitchen boy, who placed Byren's travelling pack on the floor. 'Cook's packing some food for you right now.' He looked up miserably. 'What's going on, Master Orrade? They say you're leaving.'
'And so I am. Don't worry, Rifkin. Just bring the food as soon as it is ready.'
A picture of dejection, the boy nodded and ran off.
Orrade shuddered. 'Where will I go? If only I could see, I could offer to serve in your father's honour guard, but who wants a blind warrior?'
Byren grasped Orrade's shoulder. 'You're coming back with me. You may be blind but you still have your wits, Orrie. And there's not a man who can match you word for word.'
Orrade's mouth twisted in a bitter parody of a smile. 'You're suggesting I turn a pretty rhyme for my supper?'
'No. I'm suggesting you come back as my advisor, just as Captain Temor advises father.'
But Orrade was off on another track. 'You took the blame for me, Byren, and I can't take it back. I tried but…'
'Doesn't matter,' Byren said. But it did, for if the rumour spread his reputation would be destroyed.
At least he was sure Lence would vouch for him.
Byren grinned. The old seer couldn't have been more wrong about his twin.
Chapter Four
A flash of annoyance warmed Fyn. The monks who should have been loading the sleds had wandered off. He lowered the bale and glanced back up the winding path to the abbey high upon Mount Halcyon. Almost dusk, no one else in sight.
The sleds stood on frozen Viridian Lake, waiting to be loaded so the monks could set off tomorrow. As a final-year acolyte it was not his place to tell first year monks what to do, but…
Jeering male laughter made Fyn stiffen. The sound carried from the next inlet along the lake's shore. He made his way carefully along the snowy bank, towards the outcropping that hid the inlet. Climbing onto the ledge, he crawled along until he could stretch out and look down onto the scene below, his head almost level with the monks'.
There were four of them, their different coloured robes revealing their affiliation with different abbey masters, but these four had always been fast friends, united by their similar natures. The monks had cornered a flock of
