Master Firefox escorted Fyn to the abbot's private chamber, overlooking the abbey's courtyard. Fyn glanced through the arched windows. Far away, across the patchwork of winter-mantled canals and fields, loomed the Dividing Mountains. Rolenhold stood on its protective pinnacle, painted in shades of lavender and blue. Piro was there right now, pretending to have no Affinity. Fyn felt heart-sick, for his parents would never understand why he'd run away from the abbey. He would be dishonoured in front of everyone, branded a coward. But he had been over and over it and he could see no other solution.
He looked around the chamber for the mystics master but Catillum was not present, only the abbot. Fyn hid his surprise.
'Thank you, Firefox,' the abbot dismissed the acolytes master. When he had gone, the abbot came out from behind his parquetry-inlaid desk and sat on a stool in front of the fire. 'Come here, lad.'
As was proper for an acolyte, Fyn knelt on the cushion at the abbot's feet. While the abbot stared into the flames, Fyn wondered what his punishment would be.
At last the leader of the monks sighed. 'Your presence in the abbey makes things very complicated, Fyn. All the masters seek to have you in their service. They believe that one day you will be abbot.'
'But I would have to earn that position,' Fyn argued.
The abbot merely looked at him. 'You are a clever young man, thoughtful beyond your years. By giving up your place in the mystics to your friend you displayed unusual humility. Or was it fear, Fyn?'
'Fear?' he repeated, thinking furiously. Had he betrayed Piro in some way already?
The abbot nodded. 'There are many who fear the power that great Affinity brings. Some even try to deny theirs. It is your destiny to serve the goddess through the mystics. You cannot deny Her, Fyn.'
He nodded. It seemed Master Wintertide had convinced the abbot his lie had been prompted by the fear he was unworthy. He would be given to the mystics and he would have to run and everyone would think him a coward, motivated by fear.
In that instant he realised it did not matter what they thought, as long as he did what he believed to be right.
'Fyn?' the abbott prodded. 'Is there anything you wish to tell me?'
Fyn licked his lips then shook his head. What could he say?
'Very well. This spring cusp you will join the mystics. You can go back to your rostered duties, Fyn. Once the gardens master has finished with you, you can serve the mystics.'
He stood up, bowed and backed out. At the door, he hesitated.
'Ask,' the abbot said.
'It was Galestorm, who shot the bird, not Beartooth.'
'I know. Sixty years in the abbey have taught me to recognise a bully and a liar. I don't have to be a mystics master to see the truth.'
Fyn blinked. 'They why…'
The abbot sighed. 'Galestorm and his companions are backed by powerful masters, who seek to cripple me through you. Do you understand?'
Fyn nodded, though he wasn't sure he did, wasn't really sure why the abbot was telling him this.
'I could not clear you of the accusation without a confession. Feldspar's revelation made it abundantly clear what sort of person you are. Anyone who gives up power because he thinks he does not deserve it would not wantonly harm a defenceless creature.'
Fyn swallowed. 'What will happen to Galestorm and the others?'
The abbot smiled. 'Their penance is to serve the livestock master. They are currently mucking out the stables.'
A laugh escaped Fyn.
The abbot grinned. 'I believe the punishment must fit the crime.'
Fyn discovered he liked the abbot. He bowed and backed out into the hall. No wonder the abbot and Master Wintertide were fast friends, they saw the world in the same way.
It was a pity he had to let them both down.
The thought made him feel heart-sick, again. If the abbot knew the true extent of Fyn's crime, what punishment would he assign him? Deeply saddened, for he had several true friends in the abbey who he would be sorry to disappoint, Fyn headed back to the acolytes' sleeping chamber.
He had until spring cusp to plan his escape.
With a start he realised he would miss his parents' Jubilee. Worse, Piro would think he'd deserted her.
Piro tickled the foenix's chest. 'How's my pretty?'
His chest scales were becoming more pronounced. Eventually they would be hard as armour to protect him in mating fights. She wasn't sure how long it took for a foenix to mature but she hoped they would be able to capture a female for him.
'Here he is, Temor,' her mother said, her voice carrying in the quiet of the menagerie.
Piro came to her feet, creeping between the hothouse plants. What was her mother doing here with the captain? Had Byren come back?
They had entered through the far door and now they stood in front of the unistag enclosure. The creature had a stall, fresh hay and space to wander but Piro had always felt sorry for him. He should have been wandering the high mountains, lithe as a mountain goat. Instead he'd spent all his life here, after being captured as a new-born by her grandfather, founder of 'Mad King Byren's menagerie.'
Temor lifted a horse's halter and stepped through the gate, advancing on the unistag making soft noises. It would have worked with a horse, but this was an Affinity beast, never meant to wear a halter.
The unistag reared, spinning on its rear legs, cantering off to the far side of the enclosure.
Her mother opened the gate and entered. 'I'll herd it towards you.'
'That will never work,' Piro told them, climbing onto the top rail of the fence. Her foenix flew up to land next to her.
Both Temor and her mother gave a guilty start, which intrigued Piro.
'You can't capture a unistag, you must woo him.' She jumped down. 'Go back and let me show you.'
It was only when they latched the gate that she realised how dangerous this was. The unistag had been one of her friends for years, but more recently it had become very fond of her because she let it absorb the excess Affinity from her skin by licking her fingers. This had helped her limit her use of dreamless-sleep. She hated the way the drug made her feel thick-headed and stupid. Since she'd begun feeding the unistag her unwanted Affinity, the beast's coat had improved and its spiral horn gleamed again.
It trotted over, intelligent silvery eyes fixed hopefully on her, velvet muzzle quivering, but she didn't want to betray her Affinity in front of the others. She gathered her will to halt the build-up, finding it harder than she'd anticipated. It had become habit, and habit was hard to break. Too late, her fingers tingled with unwanted Affinity and the unistag snuffled eagerly. She put her back to her mother and Temor in the hope that this would hide what she was doing. The exchange worked on touch, so it was very isolated. She prayed that unless someone was looking for Affinity, they would not notice.
The rasping tongue of the unistag tickled and she smiled as she stroked his muzzle.
'There, see,' she called over her shoulder. 'He's friendly really. You just have to know the way to go about it. Why do you want to put a halter on him anyway?'
When she turned to face them, the unistag nuzzled her neck giving her goose bumps.
Temor and her mother exchanged glances.
'Could Captain Temor lead the unistag across the Dividing Mountains?' her mother asked.
Piro laughed. 'He couldn't lead him out of the enclosure.'
'But the unistag will follow you?' her mother prompted.
Piro nodded.
Temor sighed. 'We'll have to tell her. It won't work without Piro.'
'She'll have to go with you,' her mother agreed, not sounding pleased at all.
'Go where?' Piro asked, consumed with curiosity.
'But that means she will have to stay with the unistag as long as it is needed,' Temor countered.
'She'll need a disguise,' her mother said. 'I'm sure I can rig something to make her look like a goatherd from Unistag Spar. We've plenty of props in our stage craft chest.'
