Let me go after him. Winterfall can light the beacon.'
'Rejulas is in the Green Chamber,' the cook volunteered.
'I'll deal with Rejulas,' Byren decided. The last thing he wanted to do was place Elina at risk but his duty was to Rolencia. He fixed on Garzik. 'The beacon is most important. We must alert my father so he can muster Rolencia's defences.'
'What of Elina?' Orrade caught his arm. 'Let me go. I'll slip into Palatyne's chamber, cut his throat and — '
Byren nodded. 'When I give the signal. Once you have her, take her to Sylion Abbey. They'll protect — '
'Not the Divide?' Garzik asked.
Byren shook his head. He didn't know how many of them would reach the dubious safety of the Divide or how long they would be living like savages in the high country.
'If you think Elina will run from a fight you don't know her,' Garzik muttered.
He knew her. The problem was he loved her. 'Time to get moving.'
'Right.' The cook gathered her people and left.
As the last of the women filed out Byren caught Winterfall's shoulder. 'Watch over the young ones.' He didn't mention Garzik by name, didn't want to shame him. 'This won't be like weapons drill. Afterwards meet me at the water-wheel.'
Winterfall nodded then led the youths and the honour guard away. Byren watched them leave with their makeshift weapons, wishing he did not have to send them on this task.
As soon as they were alone Orrade turned to Byren, face grim. 'I'm coming with you when you confront Lence.'
Chapter Thirty
Byren grimaced. 'You think I'm too soft, Orrie?'
'I think you're too good-hearted. And I'm not convinced Lence is Rejulas's captive.'
This was what Byren feared. 'You saw the trick Cobalt pulled, presenting those rings and the poem to blacken my name — '
'I saw. But ask yourself this, why is Lence so ready to believe what Cobalt tells him?'
Byren shook his head. 'If I can just explain — '
'Here.' Orrade radiated an intensity of purpose as he unfastened the borrowed sword. His breath plumed in the cold-cellar's chilly air.
'No.' Byren didn't want to leave Orrade unarmed. 'What will you — '
Orrade held up the Old Dove's sword, the one Byren had seen fall on the floor near Palatyne's chair. 'Rifkin retrieved it for me. Come on, I want to get this over with so we can save Elina before…'
He did not bother to finish but headed for the door. Byren caught his arm.
'What?'
In that instant Byren saw the consequences of going for Elina now. Palatyne would put up a fight which would alert his warriors. In no time at all the place would be swarming with armed men. The townspeople and Dovecote's servants would not get away. Winterfall wouldn't have time to light the warning beacon. His followers would be captured. They'd all be executed. There was no alternative. 'We can't save Elina yet. We don't want to trigger the alarm.'
'But Palatyne will…' Orrade shuddered. 'I can't let that happen.'
Byren couldn't stop the thought of Elina's slender body trapped under Palatyne's. A flash of rage ignited him. He repressed it, driving it down deep inside. 'No, Orrie, we — '
'What of Elina?'
Yes, Elina… Byren's stomach churned. He forced himself to ignore it and go on. 'Elina's the Old Dove's daughter. As long as we get her out of here, she will understand.'
Orrade cursed, tore his arm free and shoved past.
Byren caught him by the jerkin, swung him up against the door and pressed his forearm to his throat. Orrade gasped, fingers prying at Byren's arm.
'She's m'sister!' he ground out.
'And I love her!'
'It's not right!'
Frustration swept through Byren. The gods knew, he would give his own life for Elina's if he had to. 'Would you let your own people down to save Elina? She wouldn't thank you.'
He gave Orrade a moment to digest this.
'I don't like it any better than you,' Byren admitted. 'But this is the right thing to do. I know it is.'
Even as the words left his mouth, he recalled the old seer's seemingly senseless babble about right being a matter of perception. Shocked, he released Orrade and stepped back. Who was he to say what was right? He shivered.
Orrade stared, as if he had never seen him before.
'Very well,' Byren told him. 'Do what you think is right.'
Orrade straightened his jerkin and went to grab the door latch. He hesitated, the struggle clear on his face. He agonised until, finally, the fight went out of him. 'Sylion take you, Byren!'
'May Sylion take Palatyne into his cold embrace,' Byren whispered. 'I'll see him dead before dawn.'
'That's no comfort for what Elina's going through,' Orrade snapped and again his hand went to the latch, but he stopped himself.
Unable to sit still, Byren paced. It was too cold to sit.
Palatyne was right, this was agony. No matter what his logical mind told him, he couldn't stop his imagination.
He caught Orrade studying him. 'What?'
His friend's smile held a great deal of anger mingled with admiration. 'I was wrong. You are strong enough to make the hard decisions.'
Byren said nothing. Was he as hard as his father, Rolen the Implacable? He would not have thought it. He never wanted to have to make this kind of decision again. Elina might understand, but would she ever forgive him?
Curse Palatyne. Curse his pet Power-workers.
That reminded him of his experiences playing Duelling Kingdoms. 'Be on your guard, Orrie, Palatyne has two renegade Power-workers with him, a barbaric Utlander and a noble called Dunstany. They may sense your Affinity and try to use it against us.'
'You knew?' Orrade stared at him. 'How long — '
Byren shrugged. 'I suspected almost from the start.'
Orrade sank onto a barrel, his shoulders hunched. 'At first I thought I was imagining it. But then it began to add up. I had a vision of a manticore with Cobalt's head before we were attacked by them, but it was so bizarre I thought I must be going mad. If I hadn't refused to believe it, I could have warned you. I should have warned you about Rejulas.' He lifted a tortured face to Byren. 'While we were hiding in the barn at Narrowneck I had a nightmare… a cockatrice entered the yard and spat poison at the barn door, setting it alight. I refused to admit — '
'Forget it.' Byren shrugged.
Orrade sprang to his feet, confronting him. 'Why don't you hate me? Why don't you denounce me?'
Byren laughed. 'You're a lover of men. If that didn't worry me, why should your Affinity worry me?'
Orrade tensed as if he'd been hit, then he went strangely silent.
Just when Byren was about to demand what was wrong, Orrade retreated to sit on his barrel, contained, quiet and… seething. He said nothing while the minutes crept by. The cold settled over them. Meeting here had been a good idea. The ice slabs lining the walls stopped their voices from travelling, but now the chill crept into their bones.
