She repeated the actions, humming in time to the tapping under her breath.
'Right. When you get really good at it you only have to think about it to set up the protective wards. And on no account let a renegade Power-worker touch your bare skin. It gives them access to — '
'As if I would!'
He grinned. 'Promise me you'll practise the wards every day.'
'I will, but Fyn, I won't see you again until spring cusp.'
He caught her hands in his. 'Don't worry. If there's any trouble Mother will help hide your Affinity.'
'She hates me!'
'Nonsense, Piro.'
'She does. I'm always doing the wrong thing. I'm a disappointment to her.' The immensity of it made Piro's eyes sting and she gulped back a sob. 'I've insulted Rejulas so the other warlords will defy father and — '
'Enough.' Fyn released her hands and clasped her shoulders, giving her a little shake. 'Everything's going to be all right. Lence will sweet-talk Rejulas and Byren will keep the warlords under control. Lence is betrothed to the Merofynian kingsdaughter which means we can look forward to another thirty years' peace. So your vision was wrong.'
'You think so?' She searched his face.
'Of course. Just keep out of Father's way until he's calmed down.'
Chapter Fourteen
Byren watched Piro and Fyn slip into the great hall. Tonight Fyn did not join the monks, but came to the high table with the rest of the royal family, taking his seat at the end beside Piro.
King Rolen muttered under his breath.
Byren hid a grin. With the allegiance oaths about to begin their father could not reprimand Piro. Clever girl. By the time he'd had his dinner and drunk too much rich Rolencian wine, the edge would have gone off the king's temper.
Byren sipped his drink and began to relax. With Lence gone he did not have to watch everything he said and did. He was shocked how bad things had got between them. You'd think saving his brother's life twice in a matter of days would improve Lence's temper. But no.
What more could he do?
He wished he'd never met up with that old seer. But, if he was honest, he had to admit she'd made him aware of something that had been developing for a while, so he should really thank her because, now that he was aware of it, he had a chance to fix things with Lence.
Come to think of it, where was Lence? He should have returned from Rolenton by now. Byren's stomach tensed.
Though his twin was accompanied by his honour guard, he was still vulnerable to a lone archer… Knowing Lence, he would say there was no point in worrying and refuse to live his life shadowed by fear.
Byren told himself Lence was probably dismounting in the stables right now.
But who had sent the assassins? Not Rejulas, he had been expecting to marry into the royal house of Rolencia. Not Unistag Spar, they were too busy with internal power plays.
No, the assassins had to have been sent by the warlord from Manticore. Even now, the man strode up to the dais to make his bow. Middle-aged, but still vigorous, he wore his iron grey hair in two battletales, both laden with gold rings. Heavy black brows made him look angry. With his gleaming black armour and vivid red cloak, he looked arrogant, standing there in fabulously expensive manticore chitin chestplate. Even King Rolen did not own a suit of chitin armour.
Hand on heart, the warlord of Manticore Spar renewed his pledge of loyalty to King Rolen.
If this warlord made a move in the spring, Byren would have to lead a punitive war party over the Dividing Mountains against him. Odd, Corvel of Manticore Spar was almost his father's age, had come to the warlordship at fifteen and held it for thirty years. He had at least four strapping sons to help him now, so he had nothing to prove. The spar's emblem, the blood-red-furred Affinity beast with the body of a lion and the tail of a scorpion, glinted in the light of many candles. Repugnance filled Byren. What kind of warrior would swear allegiance with one breath, while sending assassins in the next? Or perhaps he wronged Corvel.
Corvel of Manticore came to his feet but, before the next warlord could take his place, a youth of about seventeen shoved through the servants who were clustered near the kitchen entrance and ran into the centre of the hall.
'He lies!' the young warrior accused, his voice ringing in the arched vaults above. 'Even while Warlord Corvel was dining at the king's high table, his raiders attacked my village.'
There was a hushed intake of breath.
'Rubbish!' Corvel dismissed the accusation.
'You can prove this?' King Rolen asked the youth.
He nodded and pulled a torn spar symbol from inside his jerkin. Byren noted how the youth's hands trembled, but he did not think it was with fear.
With a flick the youth unrolled the emblem to reveal a red manticore on a field of black.
'That tattered thing?' Corvel sneered. 'That could have been taken during a raid any time these last thirty years. I admit I've sent raiding parties over the Divide before, but I'd be a bloody fool to let my warriors raid while King Rolen's guest.'
'You thought you'd be gone before the news came,' the youth insisted, voice rising. Tears glittered in his furious eyes. 'You didn't gamble on me skating day and night to get here. I want justice for my village, for my kin!'
'Justice,' voices echoed from the watchers, moved by the youth's conviction.
'I am falsely accused!' Corvel roared.
'It is possible,' the queen whispered. 'One of his own sons, ambitious to impress his men, might have gone raiding without asking Corvel's permission.'
'Father?' Byren leant past his mother, having to raise his voice to be heard above the talk of the crowd. 'What if he's telling the truth? Remember the raiders I saw skating across Rolencia's valley?'
'Proof is easy,' King Rolen muttered, then slammed his fist down on the table and the hall fell silent. 'I gather your villagers defended their homes, lad?'
'With their lives!' he bristled.
'Then we can identify the bodies of the raiders killed. That will prove who…' he ran down as the youth was shaking his head.
'They took their dead with them. Those of us who could run fled into the caves. While we were hiding, they took their dead and burned the village.'
Byren stiffened. Raiding was commonplace, but the warlords didn't destroy the villages they raided. They left enough intact for the people to rebuild, otherwise there would be no village to raid the next time.
'This is a new development,' Queen Myrella whispered.
'Captain Temor, take this youth aside,' King Rolen ordered. 'We'll hear his case after the loyalty pledges.'
As Temor escorted the youth to a private chamber, the words his mother had spoken echoed in Byren's mind and a kernel of worry solidified in his gut. Sending assassins into Rolenton had been a new development, too.
What was keeping his twin? Lence knew he was supposed to sit on their father's left while the warlords swore their fealty. What if he had become separated from his honour guard? What if spies had reported Lence's riding out? What if whoever sent the last assassins seized this chance to send more?
'What is it?' his mother whispered.
'It's Lence, I — '
'I know, he's late!'
'I should go down to Rolenton. He might be in trouble.'
'Yes… but if he's not, he won't thank you for coming after him.'
