Tsulamyth told her. 'Ask each of the major houses to send their own healer to verify your man's verdict.'
'I'll send for mine,' Comtissa Cera said, and spoke with a servant, while Cinnamome beckoned one of her servants.
The wyvern sank its head onto the elector's chest and whimpered.
'Why, the poor thing's sad,' Piro exclaimed. 'I didn't know wyverns could be so devoted.'
'Their nature grows to resemble their owner's,' Isolt said. 'At least, that is what I've read.'
'Get her out of here,' the comtissa ordered, shocking Piro until she realised Cinnamome meant the wyvern, not Isolt.
A youth, who looked enough like the comtissa to be her son, tried to drag the wyvern off the bed, but the Affinity beast planted her claws in the covers and the elector's body nearly fell to the floor.
'Fool!' Comtissa Cinnamome shrieked.
'I was only trying to help, Mother,' the youth protested.
The healer arrived. The wyvern howled. Screams and smashing glass echoed up from the courtyard below. Piro fought a rising panic. They had to get out of here. At any moment Comtes Abeillus's swordsmen might overcome the elector's and they could be arrested.
'Poor pet,' Isolt whispered, as she stroked the wyvern's neck.
'Behind the ears,' Mage Tsulamyth told her. From the table by the bed he took a glass jar filled with odd- shaped fruit and gave it to Piro. 'Open this jar, my old hands are too weak. Give Isolt a wyvern-nip for the beastie.' Then he went to speak with the healer.
When Piro opened the jar a vile fish smell almost made her gag, but it caused the wyvern to leave the bed and sniff hopefully.
Isolt put her hand into the jar, wrinkling her nose in distaste. 'They're all soft and squishy. Ugh. Some sort of sea food?'
'Sea fruit,' the mage corrected, returning to them. 'Give the wyvern one and come with me.'
Isolt fed the wyvern who took the wyvern-nip delicately in her claws. She sat on her haunches, which made her as tall as Isolt, to nibble the treat. Piro sealed the jar and went to return it to the table.
'No, bring it and the wyvern,' Tsulamyth said.
Half a dozen swordsmen barged into the room, wearing yet another noble family's colours.
'Ahh, the House Picollus,' the mage muttered. 'I think it is time we slipped away.'
Isolt waved her fishy fingers under the wyvern's snout. 'Come, my pretty.'
The comtissa began a shouting battle with the old woman leading the Picollus swordsmen.
Tsulamyth led them further into the elector's chambers, to a wood panel on one side of the fireplace. He unhooked a lantern and pivoted the silver hook. The mahogany panel rolled aside to reveal a secret passage. Seeing Piro's surprised expressions, one corner of his mouth lifted in crooked smile. 'A secret passage. No respectable Ostronite noble would be without one. Come.'
The mage went first, then Isolt with the wyvern at her heels, and lastly Piro. Before the panel slid shut after her, Piro heard something smash and a shrill cry from the comtissa. Ostron Isle's run of peace and prosperity had come to an abrupt end.
She followed the others down the secret passage, which eventually led out to a deserted alley. In the next square they hired carry-chairs to take them back to Mage Isle. Tsulamyth declared he could not walk another step. Piro was amazed he had been able to lead them so far.
There was a short argument with the carry-chair men, who had to be paid double to carry the wyvern in Isolt's chair. Piro had no idea why the mage was taking it with them. What would they do with the Affinity beast?
Chapter Eighteen
Piro stood on the gate tower, hands gripping the stone. Smoke rose from the palaces atop Ostron Isle. All night the fighting had raged.
She'd thought it through. The upheavals did not matter to Fyn for, as long as the warlords did not know the elector was dead, the document he carried would still be useful to Byren. And since the heads of Ostron Isle's five great houses would hardly be sending messenger birds to the spars, no profit there, news of the elector's death would have to travel by ship.
The big question was, would the mage be able to convince the next elector to honour the alliance? How long before the fighting settled down and they knew who the new elector was?
No time soon, judging by the way people were still fleeing.
From up here she could see boats laden with families and their possessions fleeing across the Ring Sea to the safety of the outer island.
A child's cries carried to her and she looked back to the inner island. On the low wharf not far from the bridge to Mage Isle a woman was pleading with a captain to let her onto their boat. She carried an infant and its cries were what had attracted Piro. Several more children hung onto her skirts, all looked tired, hungry and dishevelled.
Piro couldn't actually hear the words, but she could read their actions. The captain refused her. No room. The woman climbed wearily back up to the road. Where it met the bridge she hesitated undecided. Obviously she could not go back. One of the small boys climbed onto the bridge's rail and stood there, yelling abuse at the boat that had refused them passage.
Just then a dozen riders, magenta cloaks flapping, rode past at a gallop, heading for Mage Isle. Tyro had been turning them away all night. The mage would not interfere with the five families. They had to choose the next elector. Piro anticipated these men would also be turned away. People scattered to let them pass.
Startled by the horses' clattering hooves, the boy toppled off the bridge, falling into the sea. Only Piro noticed. His mother was too busy with the other children. He bobbed up again but he struggled to keep himself afloat and the current started to take him away from the shore.
Piro looked about. No one had seen. No one else could save him. She darted down the stairs from the tower, onto the wall-walk. As she ran she tore off her over-dress and sprang onto the stone rim. She was a good swimmer. Judging the distance and direction of his drift she dived out and down, dropping two storeys into the sea.
The water was shockingly cold, and deep. She fought her way up, towards the light that danced on the wavelets above. Tossing hair from her face she turned, looking for the boy. From the bridge she saw the mother waving frantically. Alerted by her screams, people on the boats were starting to turn, but they were at the wharf.
Now that the boy realised he was being swept away, he panicked and floundered. Piro struck out for him. Six strong strokes and she was there. Surprisingly strong arms wound around her neck. He clung to her like a limpet, dragging her down. Shivering and sobbing, he coughed up sea water.
She soothed him, treading water until he had calmed enough to follow her instructions, then she turned him about, hooked an arm across his chest and set off for the shore.
The mother had clambered down onto some seaweed-strewn steps by the time Piro reached the stones, and several people helped them out. The woman alternately hugged and scolded the boy, who stood there, miserable and shaking.
Piro brushed the mother's thanks aside.
'I don't know what I'll do. My house has burned down. I've nowhere to go. Two of these children aren't even mine. I found them wandering in the street, after their family was killed.'
'Do you have people on the outer isle?' Piro asked.
'No. I hoped someone would take us in.'
Piro pushed wet hair from her face. 'Come with me.' She scooped up one of the smaller children and marched up to the steps to the road and across the bridge to Mage Isle.
Five warriors in magenta cloaks waited at the gates, their mounts stamping impatiently. Agent Tyro stood on the gate tower, in discussion with their leader.
Piro strode through the men, dripping wet, followed by the children and their mother and more homeless
