has plans for you. You're going to Merofynia, where you'll be tried for treason.'
'Against Rolencia? A child could see through that ploy!' Byren threw back his head and laughed. The sound echoed off the trophy chamber's high ceiling.
His laugh startled his enemies, who stared at him.
'You won't be laughing when Palatyne's finished with you!' Cobalt bristled.
'Now that I've delivered the pretender, I want my reward,' Leon announced. Clearly, he'd grown tired of waiting. 'You promised to appoint me overlord of the spars.'
'Overlord of the spars?' Cobalt echoed. 'You seek to emulate Palatyne. Very well, come here.'
Lord Leon thrust past Byren as he went around the table to stand before Cobalt.
'A man who will send his own uncle to his death cannot be trusted,' Cobalt said, and nodded to the mystic.
'What?' Leon protested. 'You said — '
'Look out!' Byren yelled. Too late, the mystic caught Leon around the neck and drove a knife through his ribs.
Behind Byren the chamber erupted as Leon's five honour guards leapt to defend him and were cut down by Cobalt's swordsmen.
Byren ran around the far end of the table, meaning to fling his bound hands over Cobalt's neck from behind and use him as a hostage to escape. But Cobalt was already turning.
Cobalt brought his one good arm up in a blow aimed for Byren's temple. Byren tried to duck but Cobalt's fist caught him on the ear and he went down, clipping his head on the edge of the table so that he knew no more.
Piro had been waiting on news for three days now. She sprang to her feet as Tyro walked into the grotto. 'What of Byren and Fyn?'
Isolt went very still. Attuned to her, the wyvern slowed in its play and swam to the side, slithering out, skin gleaming. Reflected sunlight filled the grotto, playing on the oyster-shell ceiling and walls.
'Captain Nefysto sent word.' Tyro looked grim.
Despite the warmth rising off the water Piro went cold.
'Fyn was wounded,' Tyro said. 'Nefysto is on his way back with him.'
'Then he is safe.' Isolt brightened. 'Piro and I are both versed in the healing arts. We…' She ran down, seeing Tyro's expression.
'It's not that kind of wound.' The look Tyro sent them made Piro's heart falter. 'From what I've pieced together, it seems the abbey mystics master was consumed by the Mulcibar mystic. Fyn tried to stop him betraying them. From Nefysto's description of Fyn's state I think I know how to reverse it. The Power-worker used Fyn's own Affinity against him. We have to hope he has the strength to last until he gets here. Bantam is caring for him, dribbling water into his mouth, massaging his throat to make him swallow.'
'Poor Fyn. If only — '
'What of Byren?' Piro asked.
It was clear Tyro did not want to answer.
'Dead?' she whispered, stricken.
'We don't know. It was a slaughter. Some of Byren's men escaped. They were supposed to meet back at Warlord Feid's stronghold. He was meant to join them there but…'
'He's survived before,' Piro said. 'I won't give up hope.'
'You're right.' Isolt squeezed her hand. 'And the mage can cure Fyn.'
What mage? Piro felt like shouting. Tyro should have let her tell Isolt. He should have trusted her.
She turned away to stare through the grotto entrance. Outside, brilliant sunshine made the Ring Sea sparkle. Anger and confusion churned in Piro's stomach.
'I'm so sorry.' Isolt hugged Piro. 'I never had a brother, but I would have loved to have someone to look after me.'
Piro snorted. 'Tease you, you mean.' Tears spilled down her cheeks. She held Isolt's eyes. 'You would have loved Byren. He had a good heart. He brought me the foenix egg and helped me hatch him. He…' A sob shook Piro and she fought to speak. 'At least Fyn still lives.'
'And he will be back soon. The mage will fix the mystic's Affinity curse and we'll nurse him back to health,' Isolt said with conviction. She smiled through her own tears. 'You will see.'
Tyro put a hand on Piro's shoulder. 'She's right. We'll do everything we can for Fyn.'
Piro stared up at him. This renegade Power-worker had her soul trapped in an amber pendant. If it hadn't been for that she would have trusted him. But now…
Chapter Twenty-Three
Byren had a miserable sea voyage to Merofynia, chained at the ankle and wrists, but otherwise free to wander about his cabin. They did not fear him, for what could he do? One man couldn't take over a ship and sail it. And if he jumped overboard he would drown or be eaten by wyverns.
Now, he knelt on the window seat watching Mulcibar's Gate grow distant behind him. It was dusk and the fiery finger of falling lava was reflected in the sea.
Soon they would be in Port Mero and Palatyne would have his circus of a trial. He was a duke now, this Palatyne. In reality he was no more than a warlord whose ambition was to crown himself king.
Byren snorted. How Duke Palatyne could justify charging him with treason was beyond him, but he knew the men of law that Palatyne hired would make it appear legal. Then they could execute Byren with a clear conscience, not that men like that had a conscience.
Byren stared at the black water, Mulcibar's flames dancing on the waves. Maybe he should have jumped overboard to prevent their triumph.
But he had never been one to give up. He would fight with the last breath in his body. He would never give Duke Palatyne the satisfaction of breaking him.
To think Affinity had been his downfall, just as it had been his grandfather, King Byren's. He should have surrounded himself with abbey-trained mystics. Then Fyn and Orrade wouldn't be… no, he had to hope they lived, just as he hoped Feid had managed to slip back over the Divide with Florin.
When they carried her brother in, Piro had to hide her dismay. Fyn had never been big like Byren and Lence but, without his personality animating his body, he seemed dangerously fragile. Isolt said nothing, her fingers biting into Piro's arm.
'Tell the mage I've done everything I could for him,' Nefysto said. 'Sometimes he moans and his eyes dart about under his lids. I don't know — '
'This way,' Tyro ordered. He led them upstairs to the chamber next to his. The bed had been made with fresh sheets and a fire laid in the grate, though it was warm enough without one. Tyro dismissed them all except for Piro. 'You go too, Isolt.'
'I can help. I'm a trained healer.'
'Later, if all goes well, then we will need you. What I must do now calls for a different sort of skill.'
'Why isn't the mage here?'
'He told me what to do.'
Piro took Isolt's hand to lead her to the door, where Isolt glanced back to the bed. 'He'll be all right won't he, Piro? I mean if it were really serious the mage himself would be here.'
Piro couldn't bring herself to answer. She shut the door and turned to Tyro.
'I should tell her the truth.'
'She has enough to worry about. Now come here.' He beckoned Piro to the bed, where he sat holding Fyn's hand. 'Take his other hand. He has done well to hold on this long. It is not the lack of food and water that is most dangerous, but what he faces.'
Piro's mouth felt too dry to speak. She went around the far side of the bed and took Fyn's hand.
'Using Fyn's Affinity the Power-worker trapped him in his own mind, trapped him with what he fears most.' Tyro met her eyes. 'Do you know what that is?'
