'What was that?' someone asked, after making the sign to ward off evil.
'An acrobat, nothing more,' the leader of the guards snapped. 'Don't just stand there. Go after him.'
Several guards ran out the courtyard, while the leader raised his torch so that he could see Byren's face.
'So your men came for you? Don't get your hopes up, pretender. Duke Palatyne has the palace and its courtyard tied up tighter than an Ostronite merchant's purse. Nothing gets in and out without his say so.'
'Then who was that?'
'A performing monkey, something to keep my men on their toes.' He spat. 'They'll be even more vigilant after this. Go back to bed, your majesty!'
And he walked off laughing, calling to his men to sweep the courtyard and surrounding streets.
Byren huddled to keep warm. He was not disheartened. Orrade lived… more than that, he was here. Orrade would help him escape. All they needed was a diversion to set him free.
Piro waited with Isolt in the ship's cabin as their vessel docked with the morning tide. Isolt had been supplied with clothes suitable for her station and Piro was dressed as befitted the future queen's maid.
If they could just escape, they'd run to Lord Dunstany's residence. His servants could hide them.
The Utlander and half a dozen warriors arrived to escort them off the ship. There was no chance to escape as they were led to a waiting carriage and the Utlander climbed in with them. Isolt's features settled into her Merofynian court face. With her high forehead, plucked brows and tilted back eyes, she was beautiful as a porcelain doll, and she gave nothing away.
The carriage swayed when it turned a corner. They could hear the noises of the city stirring. Piro felt Isolt stiffen.
'This is not the way to my father's palace.'
'No. It is the way to your betrothed's townhouse. You told me your dearest wish was to see him upon landing,' the Utlander informed her.
Isolt said nothing, her lips compressed. Piro wondered if there was some way she could get a message to Dunstany's servants.
The carriage rolled through arched gates into a private courtyard. As the carriage door opened, Piro climbed out and looked up to see a four-storey building, all faux columns and windows. Servants scurried to let Palatyne know they were there.
The Utlander marched straight in, his half-dozen warriors escorting them. Glorious artifacts littered Palatyne's mansion. Paintings, carpets, statues and golden plates were stacked on tables and floors as if the owner had collected trophies and never had time to sort them.
Isolt and Piro exchanged uneasy looks. Ahead of them, the Utlander scurried down a corridor. A servant threw open a tall door to reveal a long room, patches of early morning sunlight glistening on the marble floor. Palatyne was seated at a table breaking his fast with honeyed mead and hot beef. Despite the silk dressing gown and aristocratic setting, there was no mistaking his spar origins, as he tore into the meat with strong white teeth, grease dripping onto the mahogany table. Without a word to the girls, the Utlander took a seat at the massive table. No one offered them a seat, or food.
Piro hovered a step behind Isolt, who squared her shoulders as though determined not to be brow- beaten.
'I see you have returned with my little bird,' Palatyne greeted the Utlander, clearly pleased. 'We will have to make sure the cage doors are secured this time.'
'Rescuing the bird was easier than I thought. On his own isle the mage thought himself invincible,' the Power-worker boasted. 'A mistake I would never make.'
Palatyne downed his tankard and called one of the warriors over, paying him off with a bag of gold. As soon as the man and his companions left, the duke called an unsavoury-looking man from the room beyond and whispered something to him. He nodded, following the other warrior out.
Piro and Isolt exchanged another uneasy glance. They both suspected the warriors would not live to tell how they had kidnapped Palatyne's reluctant bride. The duke did not want to be the laughing stock of Merofynia.
'To my bride and her trophy maid.' Palatyne came to his feet, lifting a fresh tankard. 'Welcome home, my pretties.'
Isolt gave him a distant, queenly bow. 'I thank you, Duke Palatyne. Without your help I might never have escaped the mage. My father will be most grateful.'
'I heard Mage Tsulamyth presented you to the elector as his companion, not captive,' the duke countered. To Piro he appeared amused by Isolt's tone, but if he were truly secure in his power, he would not feel the need to assert his authority.
'The mage is a great Power-worker. I did not dare to make a move while I was in his clutches,' Isolt replied swiftly. 'I wish to see my father. I have been most concerned for his health.'
Piro bit her bottom lip to hide a smile, for it was the prim kingsdaughter talking now, not the Isolt she knew.
'Understandably, kingsdaughter.' Palatyne shared a look with the Utlander. 'But I must warn you, you will find your father changed. The healers fear his mind is going. He dreams of wyverns stalking him and screams so much in his sleep that he can hardly talk the next day. It has become so bad, he refuses to fall asleep. The healers have been giving him dreamless-sleep to ease his mind.'
'Then I must go the palace, immediately,' Isolt insisted, growing just a little agitated. Even though King Merofyn was a cunning, ruthless man, Isolt loved him. Piro supposed it was evidence of her good heart. She didn't think she could have been so forgiving.
'He will be better for seeing me,' Isolt said.
'Let us hope so.' Palatyne bowed, eyes gleaming maliciously. 'If you will excuse me, I will finish my meal. Do you care to join me?'
Isolt shook her head. Piro swallowed and ignored the rumbling of her stomach.
He sat down, sawing off a hunk of meat. Recalling his insistence on using a food taster in Rolencia, Piro realised Palatyne must trust his own cook. Could she use that against him in some way?
Then she noticed the unistag horn lying next to his plate as though it was nothing more than another knife, and not a rare and valuable Affinity tool. So that was where Byren's unistag horn had ended up. He'd given it to Lence, to present to King Merofyn, who went in dread of poison. Well, it explained Palatyne's lack of a food taster, for the pure white horn would discolour if the food it touched was corrupted.
'Take a seat.' The duke waved a hand to the other chairs. 'When I'm ready, I will escort you myself.'
Isolt gave a gracious bow. 'You are too kind, Duke Palatyne. But I will not break my fast until I have seen Father.'
She nodded to Piro and they retreated to the window seats, where Isolt gave her a tight smile. Piro squeezed her hand. She dared not speak in front of Palatyne and the Utlander, but the king's suffering sounded very much like what Fyn had suffered from. She suspected the dreamless-sleep was making King Merofyn susceptible to hallucinations planted by the Utlander, hallucinations designed to rob him of his reason and the support of the nobles.
It was cruel but clever. A kingdom needed a king who was in his right mind.
By the time Palatyne and the Utlander were finished destroying King Merofyn's credibility, the people would be eager for the duke to take over.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Fyn stood on the deck of the Wyvern's Whelp as the boat was made fast to Port Mero wharf. She flew a Merofynian merchant ship's flag.
Once ashore, Tyro headed for Lord Dunstany's grand town house, striding off up the street, followed by a servant carrying the foenix in a covered cage. The wyvern would follow in a closed crate, later. Lastly came Fyn. His head had been shaved to reveal the abbey tattoos.
Servants opened the gate to the courtyard, greeting Tyro by name, and explaining that Lord Dunstany was not presently at home. He arranged for 'Monk Sunseed,' as he introduced Fyn, to be housed in the mage's regular
