‘Deal with him?’
‘Remove him, your highness,’ he clarified.
‘From Cipres or from life?’
‘Whatever your majesty desires, I would be very happy to carry it out. I owe you my life, Queen Sylven. It is a debt I could spend the rest of it repaying.’
He had been in the palace for only a few days, since his rescue, and already she despised his obsequious manner. She did not trust him one bit, but her mother had taught her always to listen, no matter who was giving the information. All she knew of Goth was that he was the former Chief Inquisitor of Tallinor who had fled when the Inquisitors had been disbanded. He had feared for his life, apparently. He too had been on the ship,
The Wasp
, which was wrecked off one of the small islands but had not realised that others had also survived. Goth had said he had spoken only to the captain and the ship’s boy, Ryk, during the voyage.
He had been shocked to learn that Torkyn Gynt had also been aboard
The Wasp
and was now in Cipres. He seemed to know a great deal about Gynt, though Sylven could tell Goth did not like him. He tried to hide it behind his clever words but Sylven was a woman who read deeply into people’s eyes. She had inherited her mother’s clever intuition for people and she could tell Goth was a dangerous man. No, she decided, she could not trust him, for beneath the polite, sycophantic surface there boiled something cruel and unforgiving.
It was Goth who had suggested she invite Gynt to the palace, advising her that it might prove interesting. He had not counted on her spending the night with him, of course, but then neither had she. Disapproval was written all over his pock-marked face and Sylven presumed some of the maids’ tongues had been wagging. How else could Goth know of Tor’s stay? His opinion did not trouble her, however; she was more interested in the former Chief Inquisitor’s relationship with her guest.
They had not had the opportunity yet to discuss at length his knowledge of Gynt, though she fully intended to exploit it now. Once again, she wondered if Goth knew of Tor’s magic.
What was the relationship between the two men? Was it jealousy for the affections of a woman, she wondered? Perhaps Alyssa? Surely not. The pretty Alyssa and the impossibly handsome Gynt were a perfect match. Why would any girl who had enjoyed Tor as a lover consider Goth? No, it could not be that. Anyway, Goth gave the impression of being celibate, eunuch-like even. He had made no improper advances to her female staff—or male staff, for that matter—nor had he visited any brothels during his few days in Cipres. So sex clearly was not his bent and she dismissed the idea that he might be jealous of the love between Tor and Alyssa.
Goth was watching her carefully. His eye twitched incessantly and when he licked his lips once again she had to look away. She could not bear to have him near for long; she dismissed him. She was not ready
to listen to his ideas. He was very disappointed but tried to hide it and left quickly.
Sylven knew the day was going to be a difficult one. It had already started badly. She was angry at Tor’s disobedience and his veiled threat to flout her laws. On the other hand, she found herself attracted even more strongly to that arrogant side of him. He feared no one; not even her. Now here was a man she could love.
Love? She had never thought she would fall in love with any man. Oh, she had entertained such thoughts when she was young but she had been trained well. She was to be the powerful Queen of a powerful nation. No man would ever rule it. There would be no husband; she would never be allowed to fall in love. Her mother and her grandmother, whilst still alive, had gone to great pains to assemble the finest harem for their Princess so that she would have dozens and dozens of men at her beck and call. The harem was to be constantly ‘refreshed’ with new faces so the young Queen-to-be would be kept interested and not become too close to any individual.
It had worked. Sylven had taken so many lovers over the years that falling in love seemed out of the question. Now, at forty summers, she found it amusing that she might have discovered love…and with a Tallinese! Torkyn Gynt
was
irresistible. Charm, beautiful looks and physique aside, he was fascinating. He matched her own brilliant mind and she imagined that she could never tire of his intelligence. And his magic powers astounded her. She could spend a lifetime being intrigued by those alone.
Sylven shook her head clear of such thoughts. Torkyn Gynt had just walked out on her!
Tor was furious. How could this whole thing have got so out of hand? Locky could have called for any punishment, from flogging to beheading, but no, he had to choose the one method which risked his own life as well. Now his quest to find Cloot had been set back even further.
Foolish! Foolish! Tor ranted to himself as he stomped back across the city towards the inn Quist favoured. Suddenly Cipres didn’t seem so gentle of colour and beautiful to behold; it looked bright and dangerous. The stand-off between Sylven and himself did not help his humour either. He strode into the inn and demanded to know whether Captain Quist was up.
‘Up and gone,’ one of the serving lads said.
Tor left. Where should he go next? He made for the docks. A captain liked to be near his ship, he decided. His hunch was right: he found Quist and his men preparing
The Raven
for departure.
‘Quist!’
The captain looked over the rail. He waved to Tor but his face was grim. Tor ran up the gangplank.
The captain met him. ‘You’ve obviously heard then?’
‘How could you let him do such a thing?’ Tor spat.
Quist’s own anger kindled quickly. ‘Are you mad, Gynt? Do you think I would have agreed to this? He
told me he had requested a public flogging and then starvation in the cage. I knew nothing of this Silver Maiden until this morning when I had to sign some paper or other. I refused of course but the officials could not care less. Apparently it was simply a formality; the boy’s choice remains. I am helpless,’ he snarled back.
Tor would not be put off. ‘So you are leaving, running away?’
Quist’s voice was icy. ‘I am readying my ship, Gynt. We were departing tomorrow anyway. I have to get home to Eryn. I may be carrying a body in my hold back to her. Do you think I look forward to this?’
Tor could not help himself. His frustration at Sylven’s casual attitude and placating words turned to anger which he now directed at Quist. ‘I’m surprised you have the courage to face her after this.’
It was too much for the pirate; he turned and hurled a punch. Tor’s reaction was faster and he threw up his shields. Quist watched in surprise as his fist slid away through the air, twisting his own body full circle with the force. But he did not stop to wonder; instead he charged forward, head aiming straight for Tor’s belly. The blow was meant to wind and hurt but did nothing of the kind. Quist found himself running into a barrier as hard as stone and he dropped unconscious to the deck of his ship. As he lay there lifeless, Tor bent to check how badly hurt he was. It was not serious: the captain would soon come around. No doubt he would feel somewhat dazed and confused, but he would survive.
Fortunately for Tor, no one had seen this furious exchange, for Quist had sent his men off on errands just as Tor was making his way up the gangplank. But now the men arrived back from their various tasks and spotted their captain slumped on the deck.
‘What happened?’ one cried, hurrying forward.
‘He collapsed,’ Tor lied. ‘Let’s get him to his cabin. I’m a physic and can help.’
Quist was carried to his chambers and laid on his bunk. Tor reassured the men that he would call them as soon as he had performed a physical examination. One especially persistent fellow he sent off to find some fresh water. It bought him the precious time he needed.
The captain slowly began to come to. Tor administered some arraq from the satchel he now habitually carried with him.
Quist’s eyes opened. ‘My head hurts,’ he groaned.
‘Here, sip some more of this,’ Tor said, offering the vial containing the rapidly dwindling liquid. Quist did as he was told and made the effort to sit up.
The sailor arrived back, breathing hard, with fresh water in a jug.
‘Dismiss your man; we must talk,’ Tor muttered under his breath.
‘Lurg, I’m fine now. Finish off your duties.’
Lurg looked edgy. ‘Are you sure, Captain? You look right pasty to me, sir.’
‘I’ll be fine. Just a headache. I felt dizzy and stumbled.’
‘Righto, Captain, sir. Call me if you need anything,’ Lurg said, before closing the door.
Quist fixed Tor with a baleful stare from his one good eye. ‘Now what exactly happened up there?’
Tor sighed. ‘I’m sentient, Quist. I used my magic on you.’
‘Aren’t you the lucky one?’ Quist replied, rubbing at his temple. ‘Actually I feel better. That stuff is good, physic.’
‘So people tell me.’ Tor grinned. ‘I’m sorry for hurting you.’
Quist shrugged. ‘I would have hurt you, otherwise. I’ve survived worse.’
‘Are you bothered that I am sentient?’
‘No, but it seems you are. I heard that Tallinor had abolished the Inquisitors. Yet you are obviously still nervous.’
‘You never know how people may react. I don’t broadcast it.’
‘Neither will I,’ Quist said. He pushed his feet over the edge of his bunk and groaned. ‘I would like such skills myself,’ he added. ‘So, Gynt. Can we use this talent of yours to save Locky?’
‘It’s my intention but the Queen has forbidden it. She knows, you see.’
‘Do you talk in your sleep then?’ Quist began to laugh.
Tor felt himself go red. ‘Does everyone know?’
‘They’re all quite proud of you. I certainly am. Never did get the opportunity to sleep with a real Queen myself, though I have my princess waiting back home.’
‘You really love her,’ Tor said, inadvertently thinking out loud.
Quist looked at him in surprise. ‘Yes, Gynt, I really do. Why do you find that difficult to understand?’
Tor shuffled, uncomfortable about the fact he had lain in Eryn’s arms just days ago. ‘I don’t find it difficult. I am incredibly fond of Eryn and always felt she deserved the true love of one man. And now she has it. I’m happy for you both.’
Quist grunted. ‘She won’t love me too much if I return with her brother’s corpse.’
‘No. Well, you’ll have to trust me, Quist. I promise you I will not allow a hair on Locky’s head to be hurt.’
‘You’re all we have then, because the lad’s under very tight supervision. I’m not even allowed to talk with him. Not that he cares. He is driven by revenge and is not old or wise enough to know there are different ways to get even.’
Tor nodded. ‘I’m going to the city square now. It’s time for me to meet this fair Maiden.’
‘I’ll be right behind you. Just a few more things to sort out here. We leave tomorrow morning. You’re welcome to come back to Caradoon with us.’
‘I’m grateful, but I still have to find my falcon.’
Tor headed back into the city centre towards the amphitheatre. He felt brighter. He knew his powers could easily overcome the Maiden’s locks, no matter how complex they may be. But he was still wondering what to do next about Cloot. Without
Sylven to open doors for him, he had a mighty task ahead in tracking down a bird which no longer communicated with him. The region was dotted with dozens and dozens of tiny islands and Cloot could be on any one of them.
Again Tor wondered about the silence. He felt sure that if Cloot had died, he would have sensed it. Instead, the link between them was blank. Could it be the archalyt again? It had been a thin green sliver of the magical stone which kept him separated from Alyssa initially, and then the physical distance between them had maintained that barrier. However, the archalyt had started to lose its potency the closer he got to her location and by the time he had arrived at the Academie, even Alyssa had been able to sense him casting to her, albeit very weakly.
Now that he knew what the archalyt felt like, he could overcome it with ease. But he had tried this with Cloot and he could sense no archalyt barrier at all, certainly not one he had encountered before. Nevertheless, Tor maintained a permanent open link to his falcon…just in case. Cloot might be trying desperately to reach him and if the link remained open, something may just get through.
He felt suddenly melancholy at the bleakness of his situation. Cloot was lost, Locky was facing death, Nyria was already dead, and he had just had an argument with Queen Sylven. Inevitably, his thoughts turned to his greatest loss of all: Alyssa. But Tor was determined not to sink into feeling sorry for himself; instead he worked at conjuring a positive mood.
He recalled that Lys had told him the children were on the way. So Yargo had found them. He felt a surge of hope just thinking about the children and as he walked along the pretty streets of Cipres, he began to daydream about his son and daughter. It was a luxury he had not once allowed himself since Sorrel had fled the Heartwood with her precious charges.
They must be about five summers by now, he decided, and tried to imagine how they might look. Gidyon had been dark at birth so perhaps he resembled Tor. Lauryn was likely fair like her mother, although she had been bald when born so it was anyone’s guess really.
He realised that thinking about the tiny, bald baby girl must have caused him to smile, for a woman walking towards him smiled back. The thought of the children’s arrival made him all the more determined. He had to hurry and find Cloot and then get back to Tallinor. He presumed Sorrel would bring the little ones to the Heartwood for safety. Damn Sylven and her aviaries and damn Locklyn Gylbyt and his wounded pride—he did not need any extra troubles to keep him from his quest.
Tor pulled up sharply as he came into sight of Cipres’ main square. It was a mass of humanity and activity, but he only had eyes for the amphitheatre just beyond, where a huge contraption towered above all the people. The Maiden winked her welcome at him as a watery ray of winter sun broke through gathering clouds and glinted off the vicious blade.