What did he say?
Tor asked.
It is very bad to curse a Moruk’s mother,
Adongo replied calmly.
Haryd was rushing forward again. Everyone held their breath.
This time Adongo fell low to the ground and with
a deft movement swept Haryd’s feet from under him. As the sailor crashed again to the dust, the Moruk leapt onto him, smashing into the low part of his spine, then lightly jumped away.
Haryd screamed in agony. It was brutal punishment. Several of the Queen’s ladies looked away. Even Locky wished Adongo would hurry up and deal the killing blow, even though he dearly wanted that pleasure for himself.
But Adongo waited.
Haryd’s breathing was horribly ragged now. He pulled himself painfully to his knees and stared at his opponent, who had struck his by now familiar pose, eyes closed, arms loose.
This infuriated the sailor who, with one final bloodcurdling bellow, hurled his cutlass directly at his opponent, barely steps away. Despite the terrible pain he was in, Haryd’s throw was accurate and frighteningly fast.
Adongo caught the cutlass by the blade, eyes still closed. The reflex action brought rapturous applause. Anyone who had not witnessed this would never believe the tale. Not a drop of blood had been spilled by either party, though one of them was near dead.
The Moruk opened his eyes, tossed the cutlass to one side and leapt again. This time Haryd screamed for his life. Adongo landed neatly on the man’s chest, crushing his ribs with a cracking sound that echoed throughout the compound. One of the ladies fainted.
It was enough.
Adongo bowed low to where Queen Sylven sat impressed behind her veils and then bowed to his men before rejoining them to sit in the dust.
The guardsman listened to Haryd’s chest.
‘He lives,’ was all he said.
Lard nodded and spoke. ‘Her majesty calls upon Locklyn Gylbyt.’
Locky ran to the Queen’s carriage and fell to his knees. ‘Your majesty.’
‘Well, Locklyn, it seems you will have your revenge on this man. I, for one, am glad for you. What is your choice of punishment?’
‘Queen Sylven, I choose that he ride the Silver Maiden.’
She was surprised. ‘But you will have to wait for that to be arranged. Why not a swift death by your own hand now, child? He is almost finished.’
‘Your majesty, I will wait. A swift death is not enough for his sort. He needs to know fear and I have heard of this local custom.’
‘It is a terrible death. I am assured a man dies a thousand times just imagining it. Are you aware of the entire custom of Cipres—that the person choosing this method must first take his chances with the Maiden himself?’
‘I am.’
‘Then you are the bravest of men. And I have no choice but to pronounce that your wish be decreed. Haryd of
The Wasp
will ride the Silver Maiden.’
Quist sipped his ale and eyed Tor, who was laughing with Locky while they chose from an exotic and unfamiliar array of food. The Queen had generously ordered that all the former prisoners be taken to the inn and fed properly at the city’s expense before being offered passage home. But Quist was not interested in food right now.
This stranger, Gynt, who had his wife’s energetic support, did not fear him as other men did. But then, why should Gynt fear him if he was not a pirate himself? No, if he was honest, it was not Gynt who bothered him so much as Eryn’s friendship with him. In his years with Eryn, this was the first time Quist had felt threatened by another man. Eryn was a gorgeous woman, but she was also a former whore and now a brothel madam. Men were her business, but none of them had generated jealousy in his heart.
And yet this one’s relationship with her hurt. A friend; that meant so much more than paid lover. Her message through Locky had been precise:
Please help him find what he seeks to the best of your abilities, no matter the expense, no matter how much time it takes. Please also give him your full protection.
That was some request. Actually, it was more of an order. She had not left any room for translation; her meaning was plain. If he did not do as she asked, it would be considered an insult to her—and that would never do, for Janus Quist worshipped the very ground Eryn Quist trod upon. He found it hard to tell her this, but a laugh at one of his jests or a simple affectionate gesture could please him for weeks.
He remembered the incident Tor spoke of very well. Quist’s memory was sharp at the best of times but his recollection of the Kloek was very clear. He had even liked the man. He had taken the falcon knowing it would fetch a rare price. And it had.
How was he going to explain to Gynt that it simply would not be possible to retrieve this creature? The bird was gone and the proceeds now adorned Eryn’s elegant neck.
Quist was a forthright man, known for his honesty. He would tell Gynt how it was. Perhaps he could purchase a new falcon for the man. It would be expensive but Light, for Eryn’s happiness, he would hang any expense, especially as his recent voyage had been so profitable.
‘So,’ Tor said, finally coming to join Quist at the small table. ‘Let us speak plainly. You must recall the
falcon. He is magnificent, I am sure no one could forget him.’
‘I recall him.’
‘I suppose it is too much to hope for that you may still have him?’
‘Yes.’
‘You do still have him?’ Tor was surprised. Could he be that fortunate?
‘No, I mean, yes, it is too much to hope. I’m sorry, Gynt.’
‘So you’ve sold him. Please, tell me everything.’
Quist saw pain cross the stranger’s face. His quest was real all right.
‘I will. But first tell me, why is this hawk so special?’
‘He’s a falcon, Quist. We have been together for many years now. He is very special and he was given into my care. I must not forsake him.’
‘I see.’ Quist did not see anything. ‘Can we not purchase a new falcon for you? I realise it will not make up for the years you had with the other one, but birds are easily trained; this new one would become a companion of equal stature.’
‘No, you don’t understand, Janus. He is more than that. I can’t explain it. Please, just tell me everything.’
Quist sighed. ‘We brought him ashore at Cipres one moon or so after leaving Caradoon. To be honest, I thought he might die on the voyage.’ He saw Tor wince. ‘He was very silent for a bird of that size. To my knowledge, he ate nothing at sea, but I think he liked being out on deck.’
‘He was tied, of course,’ Tor said.
The captain nodded. He could tell from Tor’s tone of voice this was not going to be an easy conversation. Just the mention of the bird not eating made him look angry.
‘We came ashore and, because he is what we call a “perishable”, he was sold within a day of our arrival.’
‘And to whom was he sold?’
‘Well, you see, Physic Gynt, that’s just it. I don’t know. The bird was sold at market. He fetched a right good price but I don’t go taking the names and lodgings of my buyers.’
‘You cannot tell me that a peregrine falcon like Cloot is sold every day at market to the ordinary passer-by.’
‘No. The man, who paid good coin, was a master falconer for sure.’
‘Well, where would someone like that take Cloot?’
Quist shrugged. He could have saved Gynt all of this trouble. He really had no idea where to start trying to track down a falcon.
‘Would you remember this man?’
‘No. I did not sell the bird; one of my men did.’ Now Quist saw grief flit across the physic’s features. He had promised Eryn he would help but he was failing badly. ‘Now look, Gynt, it’s true I have no idea where your bird is, but you’re right, there are not that many falconers around.’
‘Where is your man? Why can’t we start with him?’
‘Ah…’ was all Quist could say. He tugged at his eye-patch and then scratched at his beard.
Tor groaned. ‘Tell me the bad news, Quist.’
‘He died. He got involved in a boisterous game of
dice, was accused of cheating and was murdered.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘Though Basyl was a pirate, he never cheated at dice. They killed a good man.’
Tor nodded, as though resigned to his hopeless situation. ‘Then we no longer have a score to settle, Janus Quist. Thank you for trying to help.’
Quist was unsettled by this sudden end to their conversation. ‘No, wait, Gynt. I must offer recompense. It is more than my life is worth.’ He smiled, then added, ‘Eryn’, and shrugged again.
Tor put his right hand on Quist’s right shoulder, a Caradoon gesture for sealing friendship. ‘You are a good man and she cherishes you. No, you owe me no debt. If I ever need your help, Captain Quist, may I call upon it? It may be a long time coming, but it could also be tomorrow.’
Quist returned the gesture and they stood facing one another, arms crossed in front of them and resting on the other’s shoulders. ‘Count on me any time you are in need,’ he said and meant it. ‘Good luck in your search. Where will you start?’
Tor smiled wryly. ‘At the palace. I have an appointment to meet a powerful Queen.’
Tor was deeply concerned about Cloot. He had tried opening a link several times but it led nowhere; it was not dissimilar to the sensation he had felt when trying to reach Alyssa all those years ago. Alyssa had been blocked first by Merkhud and later by the archalyt. Tor wondered what could be blocking the falcon’s powers. Of course, there was one simple explanation. He could be dead.
Cloot dead? No, it was unthinkable. Tor could not entertain such a frightening turn of events.
At that moment he felt the cold slice of a link opening in his head. It did not have Cloot’s memorable signature. He recognised the magic of Adongo before the man even spoke.
So troubled you look,
Adongo said quietly from his corner.
Tor turned towards him.
You don’t seem so jolly either.
It is time for me to leave.
Yes, I thought it might be. I am pleased Queen Sylven pardoned you.
Adongo nodded.
It was appropriate.
So where now?
Tor asked.
I search. I must find the one to whom I am bonded.
Will we meet again?
I feel sure of it. In that place you called the Heartwood.
Until then. Stay safe.
Adongo effected a farewell gesture; Tor responded in kind across the inn. He felt suddenly very alone and wished the tall Moruk could remain with him. It occurred to him to say so but Adongo was already crossing towards the door. He had obviously said his goodbyes to his men. He carried nothing in his hands. His brightly coloured robe was just a simple sheet of woven fabric wrapped expertly around his body, yet he looked like a king nevertheless. And then Adongo of the Moruks, Fifth of the Paladin, was gone.
Tor wondered if he would actually lay eyes on Queen Sylven at this meeting which she had requested the day after his release. It suited him to be summoned. Questions asked of various courtiers had led him to understand that the Queen admired birds of prey and kept a large team of handlers on her staff to look after her aviaries both here and at her winter palace in rural Cipres. It was a start. If Cloot had fetched such a high price, it was more than reasonable to suppose that he had been purchased for one of the royal aviaries.
Tor was led into a cavernous hall with exquisitely carved stone walls. It was very cool, almost cold in fact, due to the wintry chill which was beginning to descend upon Cipres. From this room high in one of the towers of the palace, he could look out over the beautiful city. Surprising himself after years of enjoying a hermit’s existence, Tor believed he could live here and be happy. If it were not for the terrifying notion of Orlac breaking free, or Goth possibly being alive and still a threat to Alyssa, he might have asked the Queen for permission to settle in Cipres.
He smiled to himself as he peered out across the city. He would have liked to show Alyssa this place.
Tor tried to imagine what she might be doing this very minute. He knew Queen Nyria would never allow any harm to come to her and hopefully she had been given lodgings at the palace in Tal. Plus she had Saxon and Sallementro to watch over her. He reassured himself she was safe. Perhaps she was
building a new life now? She would push the memories of his grisly death deep inside and she would triumph over that grief; he was sure of it. One day some other man would be incredibly fortunate to call her his wife. Tor grimaced…but she was
his
wife. Nevertheless, as far as she believed, her husband was dead and she was free to marry another. Could she ever love someone as much as she had loved him? Tor knew he could not love another woman so deeply. Still, that had not stopped him making passionate love to Eryn, had it? He should not begrudge Alyssa new love if she was fortunate enough to find it.
A servant tapped him gently on the shoulder and disturbed the path of his thoughts. Tor was glad to leave them; they were becoming too painful. The Queen’s lady-in-waiting was a beautiful creature, tiny and dark of skin with a light, soft voice and wide smile. Light! How could he resist these gorgeous women? His musings on Alyssa were pushed back into a safe spot in his mind as Hela bid him follow her.
Guards pulled their frightening weapons aside to allow Tor and Hela to pass. They walked through numerous decorative and sumptuous rooms before climbing a flight of stairs, which Tor assumed would lead them into another tower. Tor had not thought it possible for anything to be more captivating than what he had already seen until they entered another suite of rooms. All the grandeur of the rest of the palace was left behind; these rooms were magnificent in their simplicity of colour and style. In her private living quarters, the Queen of Cipres had chosen to
surround herself with uncluttered space. The walls of the reception room were adorned by a few beautiful paintings and one superb tapestry. It seemed darker up here but cleverly placed torches lit the room and wider arched windows let in plenty of light. The furnishings, although beautiful and sophisticated, were also practical and—as far as Tor could tell—chosen for comfort. A small, painted porcelain stove had been lit against the chill in the air.
‘If you would wait here, Physic Gynt,’ Hela said, softly.
She walked barefoot out of the room. Tor took the opportunity to look around but almost immediately a pair of great arched doors were opened from the inside. No guards in this area, Tor noted, though it was heavily secured outside.
Hela pulled back a set of heavy drapes and smiled. ‘Queen Sylven will take audience with you now, sir.’ She bowed politely to him, allowed him to pass and then closed the drapes and doors behind her as she left the room.
‘Approach, Physic. Let me see you,’ came a familiar voice; one used to giving commands.
Tor walked towards the voice. He saw the outline of a tall carved chair behind a fine curtain. He dropped to his knees and waited, sensing a practised eye casting over him. He realised he had shielded himself. Curious. The precaution must be habitual now.
‘You may stand.’
He obeyed.
‘And you are a real physic?’
‘Yes, your highness. From Tal.’
‘Ah, yes. I have only this morning received some troubling news from your capital.’
‘I have been away from the city for many years, your majesty. I am not familiar with any of its tidings.’
‘I see. Then you will be saddened to hear of the death of Queen Nyria,’ she said.
Tor momentarily lost his composure. He was rocked by the casually spoken news and his face betrayed his shock.
‘This information is disturbing for you, Gynt, I can see.’
‘Madam…I…’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘Queen Nyria was a wonderful woman. Was it her heart?’
‘The communiqué did not specify details. As far as I can gather, she was thrown from a horse and died soon afterwards. Did you know her personally?’
Tor chewed his lip. ‘Yes, your highness. I was Royal Physic to the King and Queen.’
The sovereign paused. ‘Then I am deeply sorry, Torkyn Gynt, that I delivered these tidings to you so harshly. You obviously worked closely with the royal couple?’
‘Especially with Queen Nyria, your majesty. But she was a fragile woman and I should not be surprised to hear this news. The Kingdom has surely lost one of its greatest treasures.’
The curtains opened and a young woman stepped out. She was adorned in a jewel-encrusted gown with slippers to match. Her looks were similar to Hela’s
and her olive skin gleamed. She smiled to show teeth which were perfectly white, perfectly straight. Her lips and cheeks were coloured with rouge. The woman stepped towards him and spoke.
‘I am sorry for you, Torkyn Gynt.’ She laid long, elegant fingers on his arm.
Still fazed by the news, Tor did not immediately react to his own senses which spoke urgently to him.
‘Come, sit with me. I wish to speak with you about happier things.’