'Eh.' Byren grinned. 'My mother had a pet parrot. It could say a dozen things. She wept when it died. I remember, I was seven and — '
'These aren't parrots.' Florin's glare seared him.
Ah, but she was fetching when she was angry. He hid a smile.
Florin glanced over her shoulder and stepped closer still. 'Today, after we heard about Lord Leon's offer, Cinna disappeared into the chamber where she keeps her birds. Later, I checked. One of them was missing. She said it must have escaped and pretended to look for it, but I think she sent it off with a message.'
Byren felt the laughter leave his body. 'Are these bird black and white?'
'Yes.'
He took a step back, and felt the solid wall behind him. Ostronite messenger birds? Only the elector and his spies had access to pica pairs.
'Byren?'
What would a humble kitchen maid be doing with Ostronite messenger birds? What if she wasn't a humble kitchen maid, but one of the elector's spies? Ostron Isle was a powerful ally, if a fickle one. Byren's head spun. Why plant a spy on Foenix Spar, of all places?
'You believe me now,' Florin said.
'Aye.' He believed the warlord's lady had black and white birds for pets that could be possibly be a pica pair. But he also believed Feid's marriage was a love match. Perhaps it was, and the elector's spymaster had enlisted her? Yet, Lady Cinna seemed to adore her warlord husband and Byren's gut instinct told him to trust Feid.
'What will you do?' Florin pressed.
'Nothing… for now.' Byren smiled at her impatience. 'As my old nurse used to say, actions speak louder than words. Feid has taken us in and fed us.'
'But — '
'Watch the Lady Cinna. If Feid betrays us, we will not be taken by surprise. Thank you, Florin.'
She shrugged his thanks off as if annoyed and went up the stairs. Byren watched her go, mesmerised by the unconscious sway of her hips.
If Feid was betraying him to Ostron Isle, then the warlord was a better actor than Byren had given him credit for. If the warlord's lady was the betrayer, then she was a consummate actress.
Chapter Sixteen
Piro laced up Isolt's bodice, her fingers flying. Being a lady's maid was not so hard. She stepped back and Isolt let her hair fall down. Long and sleek, it fell to her waist, a sheet of black silk. They were about to meet the mage or, at the very least, his agent.
'You look every bit a kingsdaughter,' Piro told her.
Clothes had been provided in both their sizes. They wore rich satins, laces and velvets with tight bodices and full skirts that finished just above the ankle to show off their exquisite slippers, Ostronite-style.
'Either they have some marvellous seamstresses, or the mage knew my size and the colours I like,' Isolt said. She turned Piro around to do her laces, though her fingers were not as skilled. 'But how did he know your size?'
Piro shrugged and held her hair out of the way. When Isolt finished she gave a wriggle to settle the bodice in place then let her hair drop. 'Who knows? Perhaps they have a range of clothes ready-made. Perhaps the mage is a good guesser.'
Isolt met her eyes, suddenly serious. 'We must be wary of this mage, Seela.'
Piro understood the warning and heard the added emphasis on her assumed name. But the singing of the porters unloading cargo came through the open cabin windows on warm air, bringing the scent of salt-water and fish, mixed with spices and seaweed left in the sun too long.
Piro shrugged off Isolt's fears with a laugh. 'Spring is here.' There was a knock at the door. 'That'll be Fyn. Shall we go?'
Isolt rolled her eyes. 'This time, don't let Captain Nefysto get me alone. If I have to listen to another of his songs composed in my honour, I'll fake a fainting fit.'
Piro grinned and opened the door. She hardly recognised Fyn. He looked very fine in Ostronite fashion, a well-cut velvet vest, full silk sleeves, leggings and boots. But he was not so fine as the captain, who wore a hand's span of lace at each cuff. She hid a smile, thinking what her father and Lence would have made of a sea-hound who wore lace and wrote love songs.
'Ready?' Fyn asked. He looked Piro up and down. 'Don't you have a dress more fitting for a maid?'
'I can't help it. All the dresses in my size are like this.'
'They fight like brother and sister.' Nefysto shook his head and offered his arm to Isolt. 'May I escort you to the carriage?'
Piro saw Isolt put on her Merofynian face, the mask that hid her emotions.
'You are too kind,' she said, but Isolt's voice held a hint of warmth that hadn't been there in Merofynia, for the kingsdaughter genuinely liked Nefysto.
Piro hid a smile, then noticed how Fyn's mouth tightened.
Piro's foenix gave a soft call of dismay as she walked out. She glanced back to where he sat in the cage. 'They'll send him with our things?'
'It is all organised,' Fyn said.
They went out on deck and across the gangplank to the waiting carriage, which rattled over the cobbles. It was hard to see much of Ostron Isle through the small window. Piro caught flashes of lattice-covered balconies, and heard laughing people chatter in a language spoken too quickly for her to follow. She was better at reading Ostronite than speaking it. As of today, she would get the practice needed to improve her mastery of the spoken language.
'Will you be coming to see the mage with us?' Piro asked Captain Nefysto before he could take out his citole, run his fingers across the strings and serenade Isolt with another ode to her beauty.
'Only as far as the courtyard. I report to one of his agents.'
'We're nearly there,' Fyn announced. 'Look out the window, Isolt, and you will see the tallest tower in the world.'
As they rolled across a stone bridge, Piro peered out of Isolt's window. They had to crane their necks to see the top of the slender tower. It glistened white and fresh against the intense blue of the sky.
They entered the shadow of the bridge's gate-towers and rolled into a courtyard. Eager to help Isolt from the carriage, Captain Nefysto stepped down and slung the citole over his back. Fyn stood on her other side, offering his arm. Isolt laughed and ignored them both, jumping lightly to the ground. Both men began pointing out things of interest, ignoring Piro, who shook her head in wonder as she climbed down. What was it about Isolt that made men act so stupidly? Isolt certainly didn't welcome their attention.
Nefysto pulled off his feathered hat and swept a courtly bow, taking his leave of them. A boy of about twelve, wearing a less ornate, miniature version of Nefysto's clothes right down to the feathered cap, came over to them. He swept an identical bow and asked them to follow him.
'How's your brother's foot?' Fyn asked.
The lad frowned at Fyn and turned his back with great dignity. 'Follow me.'
Fyn dropped back, whispering to Piro and Isolt. 'Beware what you say in front of him. In fact, beware what you see. Things are not as they seem here.'
Piro nodded, although she didn't know what he expected them to do. Did they have to prod everything to make sure it was real?
She took another look at Fyn. He seemed outwardly composed, but his shoulders held tension, there was a grimness around his mouth, and his eyes were too sharp. Her stomach clenched in response to his unspoken trepidation. If he feared this meeting, then so should she.
They were led inside, up three flights of stairs and down several corridors until they came to a circular chamber. A balcony at the far end overlooked the Ring Sea.
