'The truth, lad,' Master Catillum urged. 'We have no seer and the abbey needs to know what the future holds.'
Fyn's face flamed. 'I saw Isolt Merofyn Kingsdaughter.'
The weapons master gave a bark of laughter, which several others echoed. A smile tugged at the mystics master's mouth. There were dismayed mutterings from several others.
'What does it mean?' Firefox asked.
'It means he's a normal young man,' Oakstand answered. 'With normal appetites.'
'It means he is not worthy of the abbey,' Hotpool snapped, 'being consumed with the hungers of the flesh.'
'And you'd be a shining example of abstinence?' Oakstand jeered.
'Silence!' the clerics master clapped his hands. 'The abbot wishes to speak.'
The abbot turned to the mystics master. 'What does Fyn's vision mean, Catillum?'
'It means there is a connection between him and the girl, not surprising since his brother is betrothed to her. His vision has no significance for the abbey. But of greater significance is the fact that he had a vision. I must have him for the mystics.'
Fyn's heart lifted. Piro might have found the Fate but the vision had been his. Then he noticed how Feldspar's shoulders sank. He wanted to argue that Feldspar's Affinity was stronger than his but he felt he was skating on thin ice. He shuffled his knees closer to his friend. 'I'm sorry.'
'It's all right,' Feldspar whispered. 'I shouldn't have agreed to take the Fate. It was weak of me.'
Guilt twisted in Fyn's gut like a thief turning the knife. He'd almost been just as weak. Piro had meant well, but look how her interference had complicated things.
'This hearing comes down to the word of an acolyte against the word of four monks,' the abbot began.
'Not just that,' the mystics master said. 'I could skim Galestorm's mind, see if I can find the truth.' Catillum's penetrating black eyes settled on the young monk who cast a look of panic to Masters Firefox and Hotpool.
'Tell the truth, lad,' Firefox urged, when Fyn was reasonably certain the master had coached the monk to lie for him. 'If the mystics master must plumb your mind it will be painful.'
And more might be revealed than whose slingshot hurt the bird? The acolytes' and history master's plans? Fyn fixed on Firefox, who cultivated a benign expression and tapped his chin once.
As if this was a signal, Galestorm fell to his knees. 'Forgive me, abbot. I was trying to protect Beartooth. Sometimes, he acts without thinking. He never meant to hit the grucrane, just give them a fright.'
Behind him, Beartooth, Whisperingpine and Onetree fell to their knees, foreheads pressed to the floor.
'It appears the hearing is over,' the abbot muttered and signalled the clerics master. 'See that these four are contained until we decide their punishment.'
The masters came to their feet, many of them in deep discussion. The abbot beckoned the clerics master and nodded in Fyn's direction. Lonepine made his way through the others to meet up with Fyn and Feldspar, who stood, massaging their knees.
'Well, that'll serve them right,' Lonepine said, the tips of his large ears red with excitement.
'Yes, justice. If only it were so simple,' Master Wintertide agreed as he joined them. He turned to Fyn. 'Why did you give Feldspar the Fate? Do you really feel so unworthy?'
Fyn wanted to reassure Wintertide but at that moment the clerics master came over and ordered Feldspar and Lonepine to escort Fyn back to his cell.
'But — ' Lonepine objected.
'Fyn lied to Master Catillum,' Wintertide explained. 'This is serious, no matter how honourable his motivation. Take him to his cell and count yourselves lucky you are not staying there with him.'
'Come on.' Lonepine turned towards the door. When they left the masters behind, he whispered, 'You've certainly set the cat amongst the pigeons, Feldspar!'
'Master Catillum would have discovered it once I began training. To train your Affinity you must be open to your teacher.'
He was right. Fyn glanced back to the masters. Hotpool and Firefox listened intently to the abbot and the mystics master. Catillum was sure to discover Piro's part in all this. How could he hide her guilt from a master who was able to skim the minds of those he trained?
'Hey!' Lonepine protested as Galestorm shouldered him aside while being escorted from the chamber.
'Ignore him. He's gone too far this time,' Fyn advised.
Feldspar nodded. They escorted Fyn back to the cell in silence, then they paused at the door. There was no lock, no guard. Honour held Fyn captive. After all, where would he go if he ran away? All of Rolencia would turn on him.
Feldspar cleared his throat. 'I may lose my place with the mystics, but I'm glad I did it. You don't deserve this, Fyn.'
'Don't worry, a seer is too valuable for the abbot to do more than give you some mild punishment.' Lonepine squeezed Fyn's shoulder. 'You'll be right.'
Fyn had to smile. If only his problems were so easily resolved. By trying to help, Feldspar had made things so much worse.
'Thanks. I guess, all we can do now is wait.' So he went into his cell and sat there stewing. If only Piro hadn't interfered. If only he had found the Fate by himself, then he would gladly accept his place with the mystics!
Chapter Seventeen
'So this is Byren Rolen Kingson, the leogryf slayer?' the woman asked. She could have been twenty-five, but her eyes looked older. Her hair hung in one battletale with seven gold links. Life on the spars was hard. Women fought alongside their men, sometimes by choice, often through necessity. 'And why are we honoured with your presence?'
'Lady Unace of Unistag Spar.' As Byren made his court bow, he decided she looked like the sort of person who liked plain speaking. 'The warlord of Unistag did not send a delegate to renew his oath of loyalty, so King Rolen sent me to ensure this happens.'
'You and twenty-five men?' Humour glinted in her black eyes.
Byren grinned, acknowledging a hit.
Her smile vanished. She strode to the canvas flap which hung in the doorway of the large snow-cave and flipped it open to reveal Unistag stronghold. Lit by the setting sun, it was built into the cliff opposite, projecting out from stone ledges. Layered and cantilevered, the whole thing looked like a strong wind would blow it down. The walled town spread down the slope to a narrow bay. The place was a rabbit warren, though Byren conceded it would be easily defended. From the stronghold's tallest tower a banner blew, a white unistag on a green field, the symbol of the spar.
'I was born there, along with my four brothers. When my father lay dying he called all his heirs into his bedside to elect a new warlord. But, before he could, my cousin Steerden had him suffocated, then he murdered my brothers, their wives and their children, my husband and little boy of six summers…' Her voice cracked, mouth twisting as she fought to hold back her grief.
After a moment she went on. 'The only reason I'm still alive is because the stronghold's healer and I were in Halcyon's chantry to have my ten-day-old baby receive his life-blessing. The monk smuggled us out.' She strode over to the cradle and lifted the infant for them to see. Startled by the move, the baby flung out both small hands, fingers spread as if to cling to life. 'If I fail to take back the castle, my son will not live to see his first birthday. If we flee Unistag Spar, my cousin will send assassins after us, for he cannot rest easy in his bed while little Uniden lives.' She hushed the infant and returned him to the cot then faced Byren. 'So I ask again, why are you here?'
He knew what she wanted to hear, that he could help her avenge her family and win back the leadership of the spar. Warlords were mostly male, but there had been some remarkable women who ruled the spars. However, he wasn't here to help. He could hardly send Temor back to Rolenhold to gather a small army, for though the warlords of the spar swore fealty to his father, they were princelings of their own kingdoms and Rolencia never interfered with their rule. If he brought in an army to make Unace warlord, he would be setting a bad
