King Breaker (51 page)

‘You’d give up everything for love?’ Fyn teased.

She took him seriously. ‘When you’ve looked death in the face, you know what’s important.’

F
LORIN FOLLOWED
L
ADY
Cinna as she swept along the corridor, issuing orders. Bedchambers had to be aired, hot water fetched, clothes found and food prepared.

Cinna flung open the door to the stronghold’s second-best bedchamber. ‘Chandler, Woodend and Wafin have been sharing the bed. I’ll have the sheets changed for Byren and send up some blankets. His honour guard can sleep on the floor.’

Florin nodded. With the over-crowding in the stronghold, only the high-ranking visitors would get a bed to themselves. Last time she was here, Florin had slept in the servants’ chamber, just off the warlord’s bedchamber. It was little more than a cupboard, but the privacy had been a luxury. ‘I can sleep in the great-hall on the floor with the rest of the men-at-arms.’

‘Nonsense.’ Cinna led Florin to what had been her old room and opened the door. ‘This will be the nursery, but we don’t need it yet, so I ordered a bath prepared.’

‘You’ll need it any day now. I don’t want to get in the way,’ Florin protested.

Two sturdy servants arrived with buckets of hot water and upended them into the copper tub, and another two followed.

Florin looked longingly at the hot water. At home she would have bathed crouching over a shallow bowl with a jug of water. ‘I don’t need—’

‘Believe me, you do,’ Cinna told her, a twinkle in her eye. She opened a jar and sprinkled rose petals on the bathwater. Their delicate scent filled the air. ‘I’ll go and find some fresh clothes.’

‘Breeches,’ Florin warned. No point trying to be something she was not. ‘Nothing with frills.’

Cinna rolled her eyes, then left.

Alone at last, Florin stripped and sank into the tub, thinking about the way Feid looked at Cinna...

Tears stung Florin’s eyes. She had no illusions. No one would ever look on her like that. She would never have a child of her own.

Furious, she scrubbed herself.

She was just reaching for a jug to rinse her hair, when a Cinna said, ‘Let me. Tilt your head back.’

‘You’re the warlord’s lady. You shouldn’t be acting as my maid.’

‘Before I came here, I slept in the scullery with the other maids. We would do each other’s hair and whisper our secrets.’ Cinna adjusted Florin’s head and poured water over her. ‘Now everyone keeps me at a distance because I’m their lord’s lady.’

Cinna was the illegitimate daughter of one of Ostron Isle’s great families. And she spied for the mage. Was this part of her job? Getting close to Byren’s...

‘I’m not Byren’s lover, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ Florin said. ‘I don’t know his secrets.’ But even as she said this, Florin realised she did. She knew more about Byren than anyone other than Orrade.

Cinna sat back, hands on her hips. ‘Have I ever—’

‘Don’t lie.’ Florin pushed wet hair from her face. ‘I like you. But if you lie to me...’

As Cinna’s eyes glittered with angry tears, Florin realised she had deeply offended the wife of Byren’s last remaining ally.

Even so... ‘I’ll never betray Byren.’

‘I know, and I wouldn’t ask you to.’ Cinna flushed. ‘Just as I’d never betray Feid.’

‘It’s not like that.’ Florin wasn’t going to explain what it was like. ‘Besides, I know you serve the mage.’

‘He helped Byren defeat Palatyne and win Merofynia.’

‘I thought Lord Dun—’

‘Dunstany is the mage’s ally. And Mage Tsulamyth’s goal is peace.’

Florin blinked. ‘How do you know that? Have you met him? And, even if you have, how do you know he speaks the truth?’

‘You have to put aside your Rolencian prejudices. Power-workers can be good or bad.’ She saw Florin was about to speak and hurried on. ‘When I was twelve, and my cousin offered me the chance to serve the mage I asked him much the same thing as you. This is what he said. Tsulamyth is over two hundred years old. He earned the title of mage as the most powerful Affinity worker of our age. Yet he lives on Mage Isle, which is smaller than Feidton. With his Affinity he could rule the known world, but for all these years he’s dedicated himself to preserving the balance of power between Rolencia, Merofynia and Ostron Isle. I serve him because he works for peace.’ Cinna tilted her head. ‘Now will you trust me?’

Florin considered. Cinna had assumed she was ignorant and prejudiced because she’d grown up in Rolencia, but she’d grown up in the tradepost, and knew far more of the world than the average Rolencian. She shrugged. ‘I suppose if he wanted to enslave us all, he’d have done it by now.’

Cinna laughed and reached for a cloth. ‘Come. Feid will be meeting with Byren. We don’t want to miss it.’

That was another thing Florin envied. Feid shared everything with his wife. He might ride off to war with his men, but he’d discuss it with her first. Florin didn’t know if other spar warlords were like this, but she suspected they weren’t.

One part of her wanted to announce that what Byren did was no concern of hers, and that she was going to collect Leif and go home. Her family had already sacrificed their home, their good name and their father in Byren’s cause. Surely he would not ask more of her?

But another part of her was fascinated. She wanted to listen to the war-table discussion. She wanted to see Byren one last time.

Florin dressed hurriedly in borrowed breeches. She bound her breasts, dropped a thigh-length shirt over her shoulders and plaited her still-damp hair. ‘Ready.’

‘That was quick.’

‘That’s one of the advantages of being a man.’

‘Not in Ostron Isle or Merofynia, where they dress like peacocks.’ As they went down the passage, Cinna slid her arm around Florin’s waist, speaking softly. ‘We’ve received word that Fyn’s been having trouble in Merofynia. There’ve been spar uprisings and an Utland attack on Port Mero. Byren may want to return to Merofynia. Feid will advise against this. The longer Cobalt sits on the throne, the harder it will be to unseat him. You—’

‘Byren doesn’t listen to my advice.’

Cinna gave her a shrewd look before opening the door to the stronghold’s war-table chamber.

Byren and Orrade stood with Feid on one side of the table, while three foreign-looking men stood on the other side. The tallest of them was no bigger than Cinna, and all wore brightly coloured robes that came to their knees, tight breeches and boots. The robes were decorated with elaborate embroidery. Unusual curved blades hung from the wide belts on their hips.

But this was not strangest thing about them. The strangest thing was their colouring. Rather than the normal blue-black, their hair was a washed-out brown and their eyes ranged from hazel to greeny-blue.

Florin recognised them. ‘Snow Bridge people.’ She smiled and performed the correct bow of respect, hands folded to each shoulder, bending from the waist. ‘Earth-meets-sky, Florin meets...’

‘Lord Vlatajor,’ their leader supplied and returned the bow. ‘Earth-meets-sky, Lord Vlatajor meets Florin. How is it that you know our customs?’

‘Some of your people came to my family’s tradepost when I was a child. One of them had broken his leg and could not travel, so his companions left him with us while they traded. It was my job to bring him food. He taught me to play spring-seeds—’

‘Ah, the spring-seed game,’ Vlatajor nodded and glanced to his companions and translated. They nodded in turn.

Florin cast Byren and Orrade a quick, questioning look.

‘Lord Vlatajor brings a message from his brother, the king of the Snow Bridge,’ Orrade said. ‘King Jorgoskev offers trained warriors to help Byren reclaim Rolencia, in exchange for an alliance by marriage with one of his daughters.’

‘But...’ Florin’s mind raced.
Another kingsdaughter, who could offer so much more than her?
Florin hated the girl already, but there was no chance the Snow Bridge kingsdaughter would ever marry Byren, not when... ‘But he’s already betrothed to Queen Isolt of Merofynia.’

‘As I was just explaining,’ Byren said.

‘And I was inviting King Jorgoskev’s brother to feast with us tonight,’ Feid said, catching Cinna’s eye.

His lady wife excused herself to prepare a suitable chamber and see the cook about the feast. As she left, a servant entered, bearing a tray laden with food and drink. Florin took a glass of wine and approached Vlatajor. ‘The Snow Bridge man with the broken leg was called Bozhimir. Do you know him?’

Vlatajor lifted his hands. ‘The Snow Bridge is a big place. It is as large as Rolencia. There are six city states, each with as many inhabitants as your largest city. It will not surprise you that I have not heard of this Bozhimir.’

Florin flushed. ‘I see.’

One of the Snow Bridge warriors turned to the other, saying something in their language. Florin picked up every third word. ‘Judging by his name ... probably a Karpafajite ... always put profit ahead ...’

‘You know our language?’ Vlatajor asked, his perceptive eyes on her.

‘No.’ Florin had been surprised she’d understood anything, but now she lied instinctively. ‘But the rhythm and cadences sound familiar. They bring back fond memories.’

Vlatajor studied her.

‘I do remember this,’ Florin offered and deliberately recited a crude rhyme that Bozhimir used to sing when he was drunk.

The Snow Bridge warriors laughed and exchanged glances.

Vlatajor patted her hand. ‘Do not sing that in public.’

Florin flushed and apologised.

Orrade tapped the war-table, indicating the Snow Bridge. ‘I was taught your land was mostly rocky ridges.’

Vlatajor nodded. ‘But between each ridge is a rich valley, and the longest valley stretches the length of the Snow Bridge from north to south.’

‘Forgive me, but if your valleys are so large and your cities so prosperous, why do we see so little of your people?’

‘Our city states have engaged in endless wars. First one would be in ascendance, then the other. The only thing that united us was our—forgive me—our dislike of flat-landers. But now that my brother has united all the city states, he is opening the Snow Bridge to trade and looks to make an alliance with his neighbours.’

‘There is my sister, Pirola Rolen Kingsdaughter,’ Byren said. ‘She is almost of marriageable age. An alliance through marriage could be negotiated.’

‘That is a possibility,’ Vlatajor conceded.

Florin wondered what Piro would think of it. Just then, Lady Cinna returned to escort the Snow Bridge ambassador and his men to their chamber.

After they’d left, Feid turned to Byren. ‘You’ll send for Piro?’

‘She’s safe in Ostron Isle for now. Let’s see what we can negotiate on the strength of her betrothal.’

‘Piro won’t like it,’ Florin said. ‘And the king’s brother wasn’t keen.’

Byren and Feid glanced to her.

‘Florin’s right,’ Orrade said. ‘By marrying his daughter to Byren, King Jorgoskev plants one of his grandsons on the Rolencian Throne. By marrying Piro to his son, he gets an alliance with Rolencia, and a grandson on the throne he has already won.’

Byren laughed. ‘See, Feid, Orrade can out-think any man I’ve ever met.’

Orrade turned to Florin. ‘You know their customs and understand their language. What did they say when you asked about Bozhimir?’

‘Something about him coming from the city of Karpafaje and putting profit ahead of something. I didn’t catch it all.’

Byren ginned. ‘How is it you speak—’

‘It took Bozhimir nearly a year to learn to walk again.’

‘You should appoint Florin your ambassador to King Jorgoskev,’ Orrade said.

‘What?’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘I’m taking Leif and going home tomorrow.’

‘It’s not safe for Florin in Rolencia,’ Feid said. ‘The Merofynians saw her with you and she’s so tall, she stands out in a crowd.’

Florin flushed as Byren and Orrade looked her up and down. She was having none of this. ‘We’ll go to our grandmother.’

‘That’s the grandmother who gave us shelter?’ Byren asked. ‘As I recall, we had to climb a mountain path to escape when Cobalt’s men turned up. If sheltering you brings his men down on her again, is your grandmother up to that climb?’

‘Stay with us, Florin,’ Feid urged. ‘Cinna misses you and Leif is like a son to me.’

Florin flushed. If she stayed here, every day she would see what Feid and Cinna shared and be reminded that she could never have it with Byren. It would make her hard and bitter before her time. Better she go.

‘I know my way around. I can pass unnoticed when I have to,’ Florin said. ‘We leave tomorrow.’

Chapter Forty-Two

F
YN HAD TO
admire Sefarra’s determination. They’d walked all afternoon and all through the night, with Camoric’s sea-hounds forming a long tail that snaked back down the path.

Now, as the sun rose, they approached the mine. Fyn could smell porridge cooking and his stomach rumbled.

‘It’s just around that outcrop of rocks,’ Sefarra said.

‘Come on, I want to get a look first,’ Fyn said. ‘You never know, the spar warlord might have freed the seven-year slaves.’

Sefarra shrugged. ‘He didn’t last time.’

‘Besides, there’s always a demand for sorbt stones,’ Camoric said. ‘If he had any sense he’d keep the mine running.’

‘Come on.’ Fyn found a spot where they could stretch out on the dew-damp rocks and get a clear view.

Across from them the mine’s entrance was a dark shadow in the cliff wall.

‘My family found the cave with the sorbt stones over two hundred years ago,’ Sefarra whispered.

Fyn studied the mine, which appeared undisturbed. Under the watchful eye of two guards, four men came out of the mine carrying pots. They went over to an open fire where water was heating and began to scrub the pots. Apart from one building with an overgrown turf roof, the rest of the storerooms and out-houses were made of wood, which had not yet been silvered by time.

‘Looks like most of the buildings were erected within the last season,’ Camoric said, ‘after the fall of King Rolen.’