girl.'
'That sounds like Piro. The little…' He could not go on, his throat felt too tight to speak. Water sloshed in his boots as he stood. 'I'll take the Wyvern's Whelp, intercept them — '
'Wait,' Tyro ordered. 'We cannot leave this beast to bleed to death. I must help her. Wyverns heal remarkably fast.'
'You heal her. I'm going.'
'This time I'm going with you, Fyn. Isolt and Piro are safe enough for now. They won't be in danger until they reach Merofynia, and then Palatyne's plans are to wed Isolt, not execute her. He still thinks Piro is Isolt's maid so, as long as she keeps her head down, she will be overlooked. We have time to prepare. This is too important for the mage to send anyone but me.'
Fyn nodded reluctantly.
Tyro gave him a wry smile. 'I need your help. I exhausted myself dipping into the wyvern's mind to learn what happened here. I need to draw on your Affinity to help her. I'm not a true healer, the best I can do is hasten the healing. Are you willing to lower your walls, or are you still blinded by your abbey training? Am I just another renegade Power-worker to you?'
Fyn grimaced. 'Having seen how Master Catillum died, I know evil is in the man, not in the power.'
'I'm sorry, Fyn.'
He shrugged this aside. Now that he was reminded of Feldspar and Joff, he sent a silent prayer to the goddess to watch over them. He hoped they'd survived the attack on Narrowneck. 'Let's get started.'
Together they sealed the wyvern's wound and made her comfortable. Then they packed, taking both the wyvern and the foenix with them to board the Wyvern's Whelp. Captain Nefysto was not keen on carrying a wyvern, even a half-grown, wounded one. But Tyro invoked the mage's name and he acquiesced with wry grace.
Piro crossed the Merofynian captain's cabin. It was beautifully appointed, with brass fittings, stained-glass windows and polished wooden cabinets, but it was still a prison.
All the while, she felt the Utland Power-worker watching her. So far she had played the maid, shielding her Affinity from him as she had done back in Rolenton, when she'd been Lord Dunstany's slave.
The roll of the ship's deck changed, telling her they were on the open sea. Piro adjusted her step, returning to the bunk with a bowl of cool water to sponge Isolt's face. Her friend had just woken, pale and nauseous.
Isolt tried to lift her head, winced, dropped back and rolled her face towards the Power-worker. 'How is my father, Utlander?'
He sighed and shook his head sadly, but Piro could sense his malicious triumph. 'The old king has lost touch with reality. He is haunted by night terrors, claims wyverns stalk him through the palace corridors. He leaves the running of the kingdom to Duke Palatyne.'
'And what is to be my fate?' Isolt asked, her voice low and determined.
'I'm taking you back to your loving betrothed,' the Utlander said. His eyes held mockery.
Isolt turned away from him. 'I look forward to seeing my father.'
'Show Duke Palatyne proper gratitude, girlie, he holds both your life and your father's in his hands,' the Utlander told her sharply, then he left them alone, locking the door after him.
Piro sat on the bunk next to Isolt, and squeezed her hand.
'Is it safe to talk?' she mouthed.
Isolt made a rude noise. 'What could we say that would interest men of action? We are mere females, prizes to be married off!' Tears filled her eyes. 'They killed my sweet wyvern!' A sob escaped her, and another.
'I know. I know.' Piro hugged her, rubbing Isolt's back until the crying eased. Then Piro lowered her head so that her lips were near Isolt's ear. 'It looks like we are going to Merofynia without Fyn's help.'
Isolt nodded, and whispered, 'I thought we were safe on Mage Isle.'
'That's what Tyro thought, too,' Piro said, glancing resentfully to the locked door. She caught Isolt's eye. 'Someone's listening.'
Now her Affinity helped her. Why hadn't it warned her of the kidnapping? Of course, the Utlander had cloaked his intentions. Besides, she had been focused on Isolt and Fyn's plans.
'I'm glad they came for us after Fyn had left,' Isolt whispered. 'He would have died trying to protect us.'
'He will come for us. Nothing will stop him.'
Isolt nodded, her cheeks flushed with colour. Satiny black eyes met Piro's, as Isolt deliberately raised her voice. 'I'm glad you are with me, Seela.'
Piro squeezed her hand. It was lucky Fyn had insisted his rescue of Isolt back in Merofynia should look like a kidnapping. Now, even if they suspected, no one was sure if Isolt had changed allegiances. 'You must be happy to be going home, kingsdaughter.'
'Oh, I am,' Isolt agreed. 'If the Utlander's men had only told us they were coming to take me home, I would have jumped into their boat!'
Piro smiled.
Fyn walked the wyvern around the deck. She seemed to enjoy the sun and sea air, and was picking up after only three days despite the severity of her wound.
'Never thought I'd see the day we carry a wyvern as a passenger!' Bantam muttered.
Fyn smiled at his grumbling. 'Careful. You'll hurt her feelings.'
'Is it true this Affinity beast tried to save the kingsdaughter's life?' Jakulos asked, scratching the wyvern behind her horn nubs. She tilted her head, eyes closing as she enjoyed the sensation.
'Loyal as they come.' Fyn scratched her throat.
'I always suspected Nefysto was serving the mage,' Bantam admitted. As they crossed the midship, Bantam paused and nodded to the captain's open cabin door, where they could see Nefysto and Tyro consulting the maps. 'Should have jumped ship and signed on to an honest sea-hound who was out for nothing but profit. This playing of Kingdoms will be the death of us.'
'At least we have the mage backing us up,' Jakulos said.
'So speaks a man who knows nothing of Power-workers!' Bantam said and spat over the side.
Fyn winced, the memory of his confrontation with the Mulcibar mystic still fresh in his mind. 'Jaku is right. If we have to work with renegades, the mage is the most powerful and, more importantly, the most honourable.'
Byren hung from the bars of his cage, doing chin-ups, legs bent so he could rest his full weight on his arms. It was the darkest part of the night and he was too cold to sleep. It had rained earlier, and consequently he was soaked through, despite his cage being hung from the lowest branch of a giant linden tree. Half a body length below the cage, starlight glinted in puddles of rain water.
Different street urchins, or the same one in different costumes, had slipped him food each day, and Duke Palatyne had been too busy to taunt him. As long as Byren did not take a chill, he would be ready when the moment came to break out.
A scurry of movement at the courtyard entrance caught his attention. As he watched, the figure crept from the wall shadow to the linden tree's shadow, then to his cage.
'Byren?'
He knew that voice. 'Orrie?' Too overcome to speak, he reached through the cage, clutched his friend and pulled him into a hug. 'I thought you'd drowned.'
'Can't drown me. I was born with a caul…' Orrade broke off and pulled back a little, though he didn't release Byren. 'Father didn't want it known, didn't want to give me up to the abbey.'
'Wasn't Nun Willowtea the midwife?'
Orrade nodded. 'When I was born Father had already lost three sons.'
Byren laughed softly. He never would have guessed the Old Dove capable of convincing an abbey healer to break the law. 'So you would have developed Affinity eventually?'
'Something would have triggered it. Listen, Byren. Cobalt has attacked the spar. So far Feid's held him off at the pass fort but what's left of your army are captives on Foenix Spar. I'm here to get you out.'
'What of Florin? Is she safe?'
'I don't know. She — '
'Who goes there?' a guard demanded. Torches flared as a dozen guardsmen hurried from their posts.
Orrade spun around, knocked the man to the ground, darted between two others, then ran straight up the right-angle bend in the courtyard wall like a monkey. He'd always been nimble, but that was remarkable.
