Piro could make out the still water stretching far ahead of them. It curved around the base of Mount Mero, reflecting the peak with hardly a ripple. It was a pretty sight but, privately, she thought this mountain did not compare with Mount Halcyon.
The two kingdoms were like mirror images, but there were differences. The fertile valley of Rolencia was dotted with five deep lakes, linked by canals, while in the centre of Merofynia's fertile valley lay a small inland sea which lapped at the far side of Mount Mero. Nearly two hundred years ago, the Landlocked Sea had been linked to Mero Bay by the Grand Canal, a feat of engineering the Merofynians were inordinately proud of.
The king's palace overlooked the Landlocked Sea. Port Mero sprawled around the base of Mount Mero, along the edge of the sea and out around the shore of Mero Bay.
Piro had never seen Port Mero, but she recognised it from her mother's stories. The roofs of the graceful, golden stone buildings were capped with snow now, but in the height of summer they glowed in the sun's fierce light.
Wharves stretched greedy fingers out into the bay, and crowded four-storey warehouses clustered along the shore.
Soon their ship entered the Grand Canal, which was wide enough for two seagoing vessels to pass each other comfortably. Tree-lined streets and buildings three or four storeys high lined the canal. It was a wonderful sight.
As the residents woke and began their day's work, people hung washing off balconies, chimneys smoked and the smell of cooking reached Piro.
'I heard that some of Merofynia's valley farms have been reclaimed from the Landlocked Sea,' Piro said, repeating her mother's tales. 'That in places the canals are walled. That you could step out your front door and see a boat sail by above your head.' She looked to Dunstany for verification.
He smiled. 'One day, if I get the chance, I'll show you.'
Piro thought that was an odd thing to say to a slave. Even odder considering that, later today, she would become Overlord Palatyne's property, and then Isolt's.
Piro held on to the ship's rail as the vessel left the Grand Canal and the Landlocked Sea opened in front of them. The sun had not yet reached it and a fine mist hung over the surface. But the nearest wharves were busy with life. Men waited as the ship's rowers backed their oars, slowing their progress. Ropes sailed across the cold water, drawing them in closer to the wharf.
She glanced thoughtfully at Dunstany. She wanted to ask him about the amber pendant. It still rankled to see her essence trapped there, hanging around his neck. He seemed fond of her. If she asked, would he release her?
Dunstany stiffened imperceptibly. Only Piro, who knew him so well, could sense his wariness. She turned, and sure enough Overlord Palatyne approached them.
Palatyne gestured to the clear, oyster-shell sky. 'Looks like it'll be a fine day to report my success to the king!'
The overlord was dressed in full battle gear, wearing the prized manticore chitin breastplate that had belonged to her father, King Rolen. A Merofynian crested helmet increased his already considerable height and a sword hung fron his waist. Since successfully invading Rolencia, Palatyne had adopted Merofynian royal azure, this time in his cloak. On his chest five of the royal emblems of her family glittered. Her own, Byren's and her mother's silver pendants, her bother Lence's electrum pendant and the king's gold pendant, embossed with the royal foenix. The last time she had seen her father use his seal, he'd stamped the image into an official decree and she'd wished he would hurry up so they could get on with the dancing. Seeing the emblems on Palatyne's chest made her so angry she had to look away.
Dressed in full armour the overlord appeared very grand and noble, but Piro knew that what was inside did not match the fine exterior. He was not quite as tall as her father, but still a fine figure of a man. His nose had been broken long ago and its flattened bridge gave him a belligerent aspect that suited his temperament. Palatyne… now that had to be an adopted name. It harkened back to myths that predated Merofynia's history. She knew he was a barbarian warlord from Amfina Spar. Much more likely his birth name had been something like Strong-arm or Snake-sight.
She turned away to hide a bitter smile.
'Mark this day, Dunstany,' Palatyne said. He never used the noble scholar's title. 'This is the dawn of a new era for Merofynia, for the Twin Isles.'
Her mentor said nothing.
'What? No fawning congratulations, Power-worker?' Palatyne prodded.
'You will only get the truth from me, overlord,' Dunstany answered. 'Look to others for ass-licking, I don't offer false coin.'
As Palatyne stiffened, Piro's heart did a double beat of terror.
At that moment the gangplank rattled into place and sailors started shouting. Palatyne gestured to Piro, looking right through Dunstany. 'Bring her to the feast tonight. I want her decked in the finest Rolencian clothing.'
'No kingsdaughter could look better, I promise,' Lord Dunstany said, with a shallow bow that did him more honour than the overlord. Only Piro could hear the mockery in his words.
Palatyne turned and strode off. Eager to bask in the overlord's reflected glory, the Utlander hurried across the deck just as Palatyne went down the gangplank. The Power-worker scurried after him, having to take two steps to each of the overlord's.
Piro smiled despite herself and caught Dunstany's eye. His lips twitched, one side of his mouth lifting. It reminded her of Byren's lop-sided grin, and fear for him diluted her happiness. It was days since she'd sent Seela into the mountains to find Byren.
And there had been no word of Fyn. Palatyne had been furious when his body hadn't been discovered amidst the corpses in the abbey.
She must take heart and trust to her brothers' quick wits to keep them alive, for it seemed the goddess had abandoned them.
Dawn saw Byren packing the family's belongings onto the horses. Pots, pans and bed linen, all of which were needed up at camp. Leaving the horses ready in the barn, he returned to the farmhouse. It was a good size and had been prosperous, but the invasion had robbed it of its workers, leaving just the mother and two boys. How would they cope with the eldest boy now a cripple?
Anger gnawed at Byren.
Even the smell of honey-oat porridge failed to lighten his mood, but somehow he managed a smile. Vadik's mother, Esfira, greeted him warmly, indicating the place she had set in his honour at the table. Day-old bread, spicy sausage, warm beer and a bowl of hot porridge with honey.
As Byren thanked her, he wondered how she could bear to have him at her table, when he was the reason her son had been crippled. If the Merofynians hadn't been searching for his camp, they wouldn't have come here and forced the boy to lead them into the mountains. Yet, she had been nothing but kind to him.
Tikhon climbed up on the chair beside Byren. He was small for his age and his feet swung free, unable to touch the floor as he chattered on about one of the farm dogs which would have puppies soon. Meanwhile, Seela helped the mother rinse the cooking pot and pack the last of the kitchen implements.
When it was all done, Esfira wiped her hands and hung her apron over the back of a chair, just as she must have done every day after breakfast.
She gave an odd laugh. 'Here I am, thinking it's good the kitchen is tidy, and I'm about to leave the farm.' With the back of her hand she brushed tears from her cheeks. She was a small thing, plump with sun-kissed skin and the creases of easy laughter in the corner of her eyes.
The dogs barked.
They all stiffened.
'Strangers?' Seela asked softly.
'Aye. I know that bark,' Esfira whispered.
Byren thrust his bowl aside, catching Seela's eye. 'Go out the back door, over to the barn. Lead the horses out the back way. I'll distract them. If you hear fighting, don't wait for me, head for the hills.'
Byren slipped out the back of the farmhouse with them, but he went right, while the others went left to the
