There was absolute silence and, though she hadn't known him, tears stung Piro's eyes.
Mage Tsulamyth knelt at her side to gently close the elector's eyes, smoothing the lines of pain from his face and placing his hands neatly on his chest.
A sob escaped Piro. She had not wept for her father and mother, or Lence. There had been no time. Now she wept for a man who had been kind to a maidservant, someone who could do him no favours.
'Murderer!' roared a voice.
Piro wiped tears from her eyes and spun to see Comtes Abeillus pointing an accusing finger at Tsulamyth.
'I saw the mage slip something into the elector's drink earlier,' Comtes Abeillus claimed. 'He killed the elector. Arrest him!'
'Rubbish.' Piro leapt to her feet, forgetting she was not supposed to understand Ostronite. 'The mage gave him nothing.'
Tsulamyth placed a restraining hand on Piro's arm, struggling to his feet with great dignity.
Comtes Abeillus ignored her, calling for his private swordsmen. A dozen armed men in emerald-green cloaks barged into the room with their weapons drawn.
'They came too quickly,' Isolt whispered as she joined Piro and the mage. 'This was planned.'
'I fear you are right,' Tsulamyth muttered. He raised his voice, suddenly finding strength. 'Comtissa Cinnamome. I am accused of murdering your kinsman. What do you say?'
'The accusations are false. My uncle died of natural causes.' The comtissa spun to face the other nobles. 'Abeillus only accuses Mage Tsulamyth because he seeks to discredit the mage. He knows Tsulamyth doesn't favour him and won't vote in his favour. The elector's death was a natural death and by law, I propose Comtissa Cera of Cerastus House as the new elector.'
'I accept.' The comtissa stepped forwards.
'I propose my uncle, Comtes Abeillus,' a youth announced. 'House Abeillus is due to hold the electorship.'
'It is not a child's game, to be taking turns. The position requires competence and reliability,' Comtissa Cinnamome snapped.
'What of Merulus House?' a youth with prematurely silver hair spoke up. 'I propose myself for the position. Cerastus House held the electorship before Cinnamome's.'
'Transport my uncle's body back to his chamber,' Comtissa Cinnamome ordered.
'No,' the youth from Abeillus House objected.
'Will you fight over my uncle's dead body?' The comtissa signalled the elector's swordsmen. 'Show some respect. Throw these buffoons out.'
The chamber erupted. Hired swordsmen clashed, tables overturned. People screamed and fled, others drew their own weapons and sought to settle old scores. The mage grabbed Piro and Isolt, displaying unexpected strength as he ran from the room. A single swordsman blocked the doorway, weapon drawn. Piro came to an abrupt stop, heart thundering.
'Do you want to live out the rest of your life unable to make love to your wife?' the mage asked, soft voice filled with menace.
The man stepped aside.
They ran down a corridor. Servants fled alongside them. Caped swordsmen ran in the opposite direction, as they went to aid their masters.
The mage hesitated at the courtyard to the city. The main gate was closed and around fifteen swordsmen waited, obviously ordered to stop anyone from leaving.
'Back this way.' Tsulamyth led them up a flight and down another corridor. At the end of this, they had to wait for a dozen caped swordsmen to settle what appeared to be a private dispute over a woman, before they went up another stair. An eerie howl rang through the palace, making Piro's skin prickle. Thrusting open carved double doors, the mage led them into a chamber. It was simply decorated by palace standards.
The Comtissas Cinnamome and Cera, and two others, had gathered around a bed. All of them turned at the intrusion. The howl came again, haunting and bereft.
'Comtissa Cinnamome,' Tsulamyth greeted her, hardly out of breath.
'We brought his body back here, to have a healer proclaim it is a natural death -' Another howl cut her short. Stepping away from the bed, she revealed the dead elector and a young wyvern no bigger than a large wolf hound. The Affinity beast lifted its head and howled again, forelimbs on the elector's bed.
'Will someone get rid of this creature!' the comtissa demanded.
'Abeillus will claim you bribed the healer. The matter will have to go before the Council of Five,' Mage Tsulamyth told her. 'Ask each of the major houses to send their own healer to verify your man's verdict.'
'I'll send for mine,' Comtissa Cera said, and spoke with a servant, while Cinnamome beckoned one of her servants.
The wyvern sank its head onto the elector's chest and whimpered.
'Why, the poor thing's sad,' Piro exclaimed. 'I didn't know wyverns could be so devoted.'
'Their nature grows to resemble their owner's,' Isolt said. 'At least, that is what I've read.'
'Get her out of here,' the comtissa ordered, shocking Piro until she realised Cinnamome meant the wyvern, not Isolt.
A youth, who looked enough like the comtissa to be her son, tried to drag the wyvern off the bed, but the Affinity beast planted her claws in the covers and the elector's body nearly fell to the floor.
'Fool!' Comtissa Cinnamome shrieked.
'I was only trying to help, Mother,' the youth protested.
The healer arrived. The wyvern howled. Screams and smashing glass echoed up from the courtyard below. Piro fought a rising panic. They had to get out of here. At any moment Comtes Abeillus's swordsmen might overcome the elector's and they could be arrested.
'Poor pet,' Isolt whispered, as she stroked the wyvern's neck.
'Behind the ears,' Mage Tsulamyth told her. From the table by the bed he took a glass jar filled with odd-shaped fruit and gave it to Piro. 'Open this jar, my old hands are too weak. Give Isolt a wyvern-nip for the beastie.' Then he went to speak with the healer.
When Piro opened the jar a vile fish smell almost made her gag, but it caused the wyvern to leave the bed and sniff hopefully.
Isolt put her hand into the jar, wrinkling her nose in distaste. 'They're all soft and squishy. Ugh. Some sort of sea food?'
'Sea fruit,' the mage corrected, returning to them. 'Give the wyvern one and come with me.'
Isolt fed the wyvern who took the wyvern-nip delicately in her claws. She sat on her haunches, which made her as tall as Isolt, to nibble the treat. Piro sealed the jar and went to return it to the table.
'No, bring it
and
the wyvern,' Tsulamyth said.
Half a dozen swordsmen barged into the room, wearing yet another noble family's colours.
'Ahh, the House Picollus,' the mage muttered. 'I think it is time we slipped away.'
Isolt waved her fishy fingers under the wyvern's snout. 'Come, my pretty.'
The comtissa began a shouting battle with the old woman leading the Picollus swordsmen.
Tsulamyth led them further into the elector's chambers, to a wood panel on one side of the fireplace. He unhooked a lantern and pivoted the silver hook. The mahogany panel rolled aside to reveal a secret passage. Seeing Piro's surprised expressions, one corner of his mouth lifted in crooked smile. 'A secret passage. No respectable Ostronite noble would be without one. Come.'
The mage went first, then Isolt with the wyvern at her heels, and lastly Piro. Before the panel slid shut after her, Piro heard something smash and a shrill cry from the comtissa. Ostron Isle's run of peace and prosperity had come to an abrupt end.
She followed the others down the secret passage, which eventually led out to a deserted alley. In the next square they hired carry-chairs to take them back to Mage Isle. Tsulamyth declared he could not walk another step. Piro was amazed he had been able to lead them so far.
There was a short argument with the carry-chair men, who had to be paid double to carry the wyvern in Isolt's chair. Piro had no idea why the mage was taking it with them. What would they do with the Affinity beast?
Chapter Eighteen
Piro stood on the gate tower, hands gripping the stone. Smoke rose from the palaces atop Ostron Isle. All night the fighting had raged.
She'd thought it through. The upheavals did not matter to Fyn for, as long as the warlords did not know the elector was dead, the document he carried would still be useful to Byren. And since the heads of Ostron Isle's five great houses would hardly be sending messenger birds to the spars, no profit there, news of the elector's death would have to travel by ship.
The big question was, would the mage be able to convince the next elector to honour the alliance? How long before the fighting settled down and they knew who the new elector was?
No time soon, judging by the way people were still fleeing.
From up here she could see boats laden with families and their possessions fleeing across the Ring Sea to the safety of the outer island.
A child's cries carried to her and she looked back to the inner island. On the low wharf not far from the bridge to Mage Isle a woman was pleading with a captain to let her onto their boat. She carried an infant and its cries were what had attracted Piro. Several more children hung onto her skirts, all looked tired, hungry and dishevelled.
Piro couldn't actually hear the words, but she could read their actions. The captain refused her. No room. The woman climbed wearily back up to the road. Where it met the bridge she hesitated undecided. Obviously she could not go back. One of the small boys climbed onto the bridge's rail and stood there, yelling abuse at the boat that had refused them passage.
Just then a dozen riders, magenta cloaks flapping, rode past at a gallop, heading for Mage Isle. Tyro had been turning them away all night. The mage would not interfere with the five families. They had to choose the next elector. Piro anticipated these men would also be turned away. People scattered to let them pass.
Startled by the horses' clattering hooves, the boy toppled off the bridge, falling into the sea. Only Piro noticed. His mother was too busy with the other children. He bobbed up again but he struggled to keep himself afloat and the current started to take him away from the shore.
Piro looked about. No one had seen. No one else could save him. She darted down the stairs from the tower, onto the wall-walk. As she ran she tore off her over-dress and sprang onto the stone rim. She was a good swimmer. Judging the distance and direction of his drift she dived out and down, dropping two storeys into the sea.
The water was shockingly cold, and deep. She fought her way up, towards the light that danced on the wavelets above. Tossing hair from her face she turned, looking for the boy. From the bridge she saw the mother waving frantically. Alerted by her screams, people on the boats were starting to turn, but they were at the wharf.
Now that the boy realised he was being swept away, he panicked and floundered. Piro struck out for him. Six strong strokes and she was there. Surprisingly strong arms wound around her neck. He clung to her like a limpet, dragging her down. Shivering and sobbing, he coughed up sea water.
She soothed him, treading water until he had calmed enough to follow her instructions, then she turned him about, hooked an arm across his chest and set off for the shore.
The mother had clambered down onto some seaweed-strewn steps by the time Piro reached the stones, and several people helped them out. The woman alternately hugged and scolded the boy, who stood there, miserable and shaking.
Piro brushed the mother's thanks aside.
'I don't know what I'll do. My house has burned down. I've nowhere to go. Two of these children aren't even mine. I found them wandering in the street, after their family was killed.'
'Do you have people on the outer isle?' Piro asked.
'No. I hoped someone would take us in.'
Piro pushed wet hair from her face. 'Come with me.' She scooped up one of the smaller children and marched up to the steps to the road and across the bridge to Mage Isle.
Five warriors in magenta cloaks waited at the gates, their mounts stamping impatiently. Agent Tyro stood on the gate tower, in discussion with their leader.
Piro strode through the men, dripping wet, followed by the children and their mother and more homeless townspeople, who had come to watch.
'Open the gates!' Piro had lost her shoes, or she would have kicked the wood.
The warriors muttered at her effrontery.
Tyro stared down at Piro, looking stunned. 'I can let you in, but not the townspeople, by the mage's orders.'
'By the mage's orders?' Piro was furious. 'My father never turned people away. It is the mage's duty to take these people in and protect them. Let me in and I'll tell him so, if you're afraid to.'
Tyro looked grim. After a moment he said something to the men behind him and turned back to the bridge. 'Stand aside, captain. Mage Tsulamyth offers asylum to the people of Ostron Isle.'
Even as he spoke the gates swung inwards and the soldiers backed their horses with bad grace. The captain shook his fist at Tyro.
'I'll report this to the comtissa!' he roared and rode off.
Piro ignored him and marched onto Mage Isle with a dozen people at her back. By the time Tyro came down the stairs she'd sent the children and their mother to the kitchen and ordered a hot bath run for the half-drowned boy. Word was already spreading back to the crowded wharf.
'The men can bed down in the stables,' Piro told the gate-keeper. 'Women and children can go through to the hall.' She turned and found Tyro beside her. 'If that's all right with you.'
'It's the mage's decision,' he said, then his eyes widened as he saw the number of people flocking towards the bridge.
'They're desperate. You did the right thing,' Piro told him. 'Sometimes you have to do what you believe to be right, even if other people don't understand.' She bit her bottom lip. She had no reason to like Tyro, not after the way he had tricked her. But... 'Will you get in trouble with the mage?'
One corner of his mouth lifted. 'No more than usual.'
'Byren,' Orrade whispered, face so close to his in the dim predawn that the warmth of his breath brushed Byren's skin.
He woke instantly, pulling back, only too aware of his honour guard asleep on the floor.
Orrade placed one knee on the bed. 'Byren, listen -'
He lifted a hand to silence Orrade but his friend kept speaking.
'...saw them, coming over the Divide. The sooner we strike the better.'
'Come all the way in.' Byren pressed his back to the carved head-board, as Orrade climbed onto the bed and let the canopy fall, so that they were private from the others. 'Now start again and keep your voice down.'
'I saw Leogryf's warlord march his warriors over the Divide. They wore cobalt-blue ribbons on their helmets.' Orrade rubbed his temples, frowning in concentration.
'An Affinity vision?'
Orrade nodded. 'Complete with thumping headache, and now I have grey moths clouding my sight.'
Fearful of someone overhearing and Orrade's Affinity being exposed, they both glanced to the canopy at the end of the bed, beyond which the honour guard slept. They could see nothing, of course, and the soft snoring continued as normal.
'I knew we could not trust Lord Leon,' Byren whispered.
'It wouldn't surprise me if he'd already made a pact with Cobalt before he came here to judge our strength and discover our plans.' Bitterness stretched Orrade's voice thin. 'I had a bad feeling about him. But I...' He shrugged. 'Will you commit your army on the strength of my vision?'
'I'm alive because of one of your visions.'
They were silent for a moment. Byren could not help but recall the kiss when Orrade found him in the seep and they both thought he was dying. To be on the receiving end of such love...
The bed curtain on the other side flicked open as someone slipped in, letting it fall behind them. Blinded by the darkness, they felt for Byren.
He lunged forwards, caught their arm and pulled them flat across the bed, pinning them with his body, feeling the firm curves of a woman's body, smelling the scent of... 'Florin?'
'Get off me.' She thrust at his chest with all her strength. It was not enough. And Byren realised she might be trained, she might be fast but, if a warrior got past her weapons, she had the strength of a lad. He wouldn't send a boy into battle, not if he could help it.
Florin thumped him, annoyed by her inability to make him budge. 'Off me, you great lump.'
Orrade chuckled.
Florin went still.
'Orrie had a vision,' Byren explained. 'Why are you here?'
She shoved and Byren pulled back. There was rustling as she sat up. 'The Lady Cinna's bird returned with a message. It must have been important because she ran right back to Feid's bed and they were whispering madly under the canopy. I heard something about betrayal.'
'So the warlord's pretty new wife is an Ostronite spy after all,' Orrade whispered.
'And Feid,' Florin added.
'But that does not mean Feid intends to betray me,' Byren said.
There was a knock at the chamber door. All three of them froze. Winterfall answered. Someone asked for Byren.
Before Winterfall could discover Orrade and Florin in his bed, Byren thrust open the canopy and stepped out. 'What is it?'
'The warlord's sent for you.' Winterfall kept his voice low. 'Do you want me to come too?'
'No.' He wanted Orrade with him. Anything was better than leaving him in a warm bed with Florin. But he could hardly ask Orrade to step out from his bed canopy now. 'I'll be right there. Wait here.'
He threw on breeches, a shirt and boots. The stone floor was cold as he followed the servant down the passage. The pool of golden lamplight illuminated just enough to see where to place his feet.
At the warlord's chamber Feid sent the servant off and invited Byren in. A lamp burned, illuminating a chamber much like his own. The fire had been lit and Lady Cinna waited, wrapped in a blanket on the floor by the fire. She scrambled to her feet as Byren entered.
'What is this?' Byren asked, wondering if half a dozen of Feid's honour guard waited in the next chamber with their swords drawn, but he did not think Feid would risk his pregnant wife in a brawl.
'We've had news,' Feid said. Like Byren, his breeches and shirt looked as if they'd been thrown on in haste. 'Leogryf's warlord has taken his men over the Divide. We need to strike now, before he can unite with Cobalt.'
'How do you know this?'
Feid deliberately did not glance to Cinna. 'A spy told me.'
'Do you trust this spy?'
'With my life.'
Byren let his breath out slowly as Cinna came to stand behind Feid, slipping her hand into his. Clearly, Cinna was more than a kitchen maid become lady. Yet, just as clearly, she adored Feid.
'Byren?' Feid pressed.
'You're right. Send word to Unistag Spar.'
Back in his chamber he found his honour guard awake and Orrade with them. He didn't dare ask how his friend had slipped out of the bed without being seen.
Enough pale dawn light filtered in for him to see his honour guard's faces. They all turned expectantly, as he entered.
'I've sent a message to Unistag Spar. We leave today.' His last words were drowned by their cheers.
Orrade sent him a wry look.
At Byren's signal the others fell silent. 'It's lucky Corvel is here with his warriors. Without the women and children we'll move fast. I'll lead Corvel's men and the majority of my men over the secret pass and across the foothills. The Rolencian side of the fort won't be as heavily defended. Orrie?'
His friend nodded.
'You wait here for Unistag's warriors. Lead an attack on the fort, at dawn on the fifth day. Don't waste lives, but make it look like you mean it. I want the fort's defenders firmly focused on the threat from Foenix Spar when we attack the other gate.'
Orrade smiled. 'Understood.'
Byren looked into their expectant faces. 'Right. Let's get ready.'
Byren's honour guard had already rolled up their sleeping mats, now they filed out, eager for breakfast and a chance to reclaim Rolencia. Last out was Orrade, who glanced once to the bed before shutting the door behind him.
Heart thudding, Byren pulled the bed curtain back to find Florin kneeling, head cocked to one side, listening intently. There was nothing wanton in her pose, but his body thought otherwise.
'They're gone?' she said.
He nodded.
'Good.' She thrust past him, tantalisingly close. 'I can be ready to leave in a few moments.'
Byren's heart sank. He already had Garzik and Elina's deaths on his conscience. He stared at her. How could he convince her to stay in the Foenix stronghold?
He couldn't. Short of locking her up, and that was just insulting. But he didn't have to put her in harm's way.
Thinking they were done, she turned to leave.
He caught her arm. 'You stay with Orrie.'
She brushed his hand off. 'I'd rather go with you. If Orrie's not with you, someone has to watch your back.'