Later that evening Byren could hear the familiar drinking song echoing up the stairwell from the great hall. By rights he should go down there and join the table where his brother sat, surrounded by the young men of Rolencia, but he hesitated. Had he sensed a growing antagonism in Lence or was he imagining it because of the seer's prediction?
This was ridiculous. He wished he had never met the old seer.
Had he acted differently since that day? Going over things, he was sure he hadn't. And he wouldn't!
Byren strode down the stairs.
Lence was in the midst of Rolenhold's young men, arm wrestling as they cheered him on. He sat at a table in front of the huge fireplace. Over this hung King Rolence the First's shield and sword, a symbol of his ancestors' long tradition of service to protect the kingdom, and the royal banner of Rolencia. Byren felt a surge of pride in his family's achievements.
'Ho, Byren,' his father called. 'Come take your turn. The best arm wrestler from Rolenhold is going to challenge the best of the warlords' men.'
He glanced to the other tables and saw that the warlords' honour guards had already selected a champion. He was a grizzled warrior from Manticore Spar, not as tall as Lence but broad through the chest. By the old burn scars on his brawny arms, Byren guessed he was a blacksmith when not leading raiding parties. The man grinned and yelled a challenge, revealing a gap where three teeth were missing.
Byren searched the eager faces of the warlords. Only four of the five were present. If Rolencia was the hub of a half wheel, then Manticore Spar was the first spoke on the wheel whose people were considered little better than Utlanders. Living on the farthest of the spars, they were fiercely independent, and they had to be, as they were constantly preyed upon by Utland raiders.
The next spoke on the wheel was Leogryf Spar. Their current warlord was a steady man who could be relied to keep his word and, so far, he had always supported King Rolen.
The third was Foenix Spar. Over the last three hundred years, their warlords had generally been loyal to Rolencia. Just as well, since they guarded the pass over the Divide that led to Rolenhold itself.
The fourth spoke was Unistag Spar and their warlord was dying with no clear successor.
Last of all was Cockatrice Spar. Another crucial spar, their warlord held the lands which bordered closest to Merofynia. If he turned traitor, Merofynia's invading army could cross Cockatrice Pass and march deep into Rolencia's soft underbelly before the king could muster his defences.
Of the five current warlords the loyalty of only two was guaranteed. The Unistag warlord's failure to appear and renew his loyalty would be noted.
There was a shout as Lence defeated his challenger.
'Come, Byren,' King Rolen beckoned. 'It's down to you and Lence now.'
Garzik and several of the youths started chanting his name. 'Byren Leogryfslayer. Byren…'
'Lence Kingsheir. Lence Kingsheir!' Cobalt started up a chant and Lence's supporters joined in.
Though Lence was heavier through the chest than Byren, their arm wrestling ability was about the same. And Lence had beaten everyone else so he would be tired. Byren caught Lence's grimace as he flexed his arm. The last thing he wanted was to upstage his brother again. On impulse he decided to refuse.
There, it wasn't so hard to prove the old seer wrong.
'Sorry,' Byren muttered, massaging his shoulder. 'Pulled something when that leogryf rolled on me.'
'Right.' King Rolen clapped his hands together. 'Then Lence must uphold our honour. Come on.'
The grizzled blacksmith and his supporters marched over, heckling and jeering as the man took his seat opposite Lence.
The hunt-master joined Byren. 'You didn't mention that injury when we were on the Dividing Mountains. I would have put some arnica on it.'
Byren opened his mouth to lie but the hunt-master, who had known him and Lence since they were boys, had already read his face.
'Better put some on,' he advised in a low voice. 'Lence won't thank you for going easy on him.'
Byren nodded. He hadn't thought of that. By trying to avoid the seer's foretelling, he had almost made things worse. His head spun.
The men were chanting now — 'Rolenhold! Rolenhold!' — as Lence and the blacksmith battled, massive fists locked, forearms flexed so that the muscles stood out like cords under their skin.
The blacksmith's face grew darker as he strained. It was obvious he would not let Lence win to curry favour.
'Manticore! Manticore!' the spar warriors bellowed.
Byren found his hands had curled into fists as he willed Lence to win. His brother hated losing.
The blacksmith's massive biceps jerked with strain, veins stood out on forearm and at his temples. His arm trembled.
With a sudden grunt, he lost the battle.
Lence slammed the blacksmith's fist onto the table top. Rolenhold cheered. His followers swung Lence up onto their shoulders.
Byren stepped back to let them pass as they made a victory march around the great hall. Lence raised his arm in a fist. Byren grinned.
'Remember the arnica,' the hunt-master said, before he walked off.
Yes. Arnica. With a start Byren realised he was going to lie to his twin to keep the peace. How had it come to this?
Across the great hall he noticed the abbot, with several of his masters and the castle's Halcyon Affinity warder. Without intending it, he found himself weaving through the tables towards their quiet corner.
He had to know if a seer's prediction could be avoided.
The masters and the abbot all rose as he approached. He gave them a bow, acknowledging their age and learning. 'I have a question regarding Affinity.'
'Slaying beasts like the leogryf releases the Affinity that animates their physical bodies, returning it to the Unseen world. But don't worry. It cannot affect you unless you have Affinity and we know you don't,' Autumnwind, the castle Affinity warder, assured him. 'And the correct atonement to Halcyon was made so you have not slighted her.'
'Eh, it's not that,' Byren admitted.
'Ask.' The mystics master gestured, looking interested.
Byren took a moment to frame his question. He could hardly blurt out that the seer said he'd kill his twin to claim the throne. 'Have you heard about the renegade seer who confronted us in Rolenton Square?'
They nodded.
Byren cleared his throat. 'She said some things about my mother that have upset her. Can a seer's prediction be avoided?'
The Affinity warder glanced to the mystics master.
'Seers see possible paths and often only nexus points of great importance. We must put clues together to make sense of what they have seen,' the master said, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. 'I'm sorry I can't be more helpful.'
Byren waved this aside. 'Does that mean we can't avoid — '
'Not at all. The future is a road with many destinations, not all of them will eventuate. Tell the queen I am happy to consult with her, if she needs me.'
'I will.' Relieved, Byren bowed and went to back off but another thought occurred to him. 'Farmer Overhill says his son's Affinity came on him at fifteen. How can Affinity suddenly appear in someone who has shown no sign of it?'
'We are still discovering the ways of Affinity, kingson,' the castle Affinity warder admitted.
'But we know this much,' the mystics master said. 'If it doesn't show by the time a child is six years of age, it may surface at times of life-changing events, the birth of a child or escape from certain death.'
'Could a healer with Affinity accidentally trigger Affinity?' Byren asked, getting to his real question at last.
The Affinity warder glanced to the master.
'According to the abbey records this hasn't happened for a hundred and twenty years,' he said. Eyes that were far too keen fixed on Byren. 'Why do you ask?'
'Just curious.' Byren quickly thanked them and backed off, his worst fears confirmed. He would have to watch over Orrade and make sure no one realised his friend now had Affinity. If they were lucky it would never show again. He could only hope that he had not done Orrade a disservice, insisting that the seer heal him.
And as far as he and Lence were concerned, Byren did not have to worry for he would never kill his twin. Maybe Lence was a little annoyed because the glory of the leogryf kill should have been his. That was only natural, but they'd shared too much to let something like this come between them. It was time for a peace offering. As Byren crossed the hall he noticed Orrade. His friend lifted a tankard and beckoned him. All the young men who had sworn fealty to Byren were with him. How would they feel if his supposed connection with Palos came out? Byren hated the thought of letting them down so he shook his head. Orrade stiffened imperceptibly, then turned his back on Byren.
Byren finished drilling the hole through the base of the second leogryf incisor. The tooth was as long as his index finger and a dull ivory colour, part of a matching pair. After threading the two incisors on each side of a row of smaller teeth he tied the ends of the leather thong, then headed out intending to present it to Lence. The trophy necklace had taken him most of the morning to complete. His real betrothal gift wouldn't be ready for a while yet. He'd gone down to Rolenhold first thing this morning to see the silversmith, who promised to have both the matching rings and the lincurium pendant ready soon.
Striding down the castle corridor, Byren dodged busy servants scurrying past with buckets of steaming water drawn from the hot-water cistern at the end of the hall. Others bustled by with freshly pressed clothes and polished boots. The smell of polish, crisped cotton and lavender-scented wool filled the air. The abbot would stage the race for Halcyon's Fate at midday and everyone wanted to see it. Byren had to find his twin before they left for the township, because after that their day would be taken up with ceremony and feasting.
He went looking for Lence. In the great hall he headed for the knot of drinkers by the fireplace, identifying his father and Captain Temor. Who was that with them?
Illien of Cobalt. He'd recognise those padded shoulders anywhere. There was nothing wrong with Cobalt's shoulders so why pad them? He supposed his cousin hadn't had time to get Rolencian-style clothes made up yet.
'…because it's never happened here, Captain Temor, that doesn't mean it can't happen in Merofynia,' Cobalt was saying. 'Palatyne's a canny man, as befits the warlord of Amfina Spar, the two-headed snake. He let the rest of Merofynia's warlords tear each other to pieces like a pack of wild dogs so that when he stepped in they had nothing left to throw against his men. That's how he became overlord of the spars. And, by keeping them under control, he's earned King Merofyn's gratitude. But the ordinary people of Merofynia are sick of this upstart overlord strutting around, taking what he wants. They were fed up with King Merofyn anyway, with his greedy taxes and his religious fervour. Now that he stares death in the face, he's turned to the gods, calling on those with untamed Affinity to find a way to bargain with death itself. Why, they say there are more renegade Power-workers in Port Mero than bakers!'
'Filthy Untamed Affinity,' King Rolen muttered. 'Execution or banishment is all they deserve.'
'Very true,' Cobalt agreed. 'I was telling Lence Kingsheir only yesterday how the people of Merofynia look back on the rule of Queen Myrella's father with great longing. I swear, Uncle, if you were to march into Port Mero right now the people would cheer you as a saviour!'
'More the fool me. What of the lords and their men, Cobalt? You can bet they won't lay down their arms and welcome me into their Great Halls!' King Rolen laughed. 'Besides, soon we'll have Lence betrothed to King Merofyn's daughter. All Rolencia wants from Merofynia is peace and a chance to grow prosperous.'
'Yes, Merofyn's daughter,' Cobalt muttered looking worried.
'What have you heard about Isolt?' Captain Temor asked.
Cobalt gave a delicate shrug. 'You know what they say, what's suckled at the breast cannot be forgotten. For all that she's a pretty thing, she is her father's child.'
'Cunning and cold?' Rolen pressed.
Cobalt shrugged. '"Be careful what you whisper on your pillow. It will find its way back to your wife's father and brothers."'
Temor nodded. 'Wives taken to cement alliances always owe their loyalty to their family, not their husband.'
'Ha! My Myrella has proven the exception to that rule.' King Rolen grinned. 'Don't worry, Illien. I'm sure Lence will make the most of Isolt. She's only fifteen, young enough to mould.'
'We can hope so,' Cobalt agreed, and for the first time Byren wondered if his father had made the right decision. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. All his life, his father had been a legendary figure who had saved Rolencia from invasion at only eighteen years of age. But what if the king had misjudged the balance of power this time? There had been times recently when Byren hadn't agreed with his father's decisions. The Utland raid was one example. It struck him that for many years now his father had trusted his old honour guard as advisors, men who were certainly loyal but they had never lived outside Rolencia. Was his father…
'Byren, I didn't see you there,' Cobalt greeted him, his dark rippling curls travelling across his back as he turned. Small jewels had been woven through the hair at his temples and they winked as they caught the light.
Why didn't he tie his hair back like a warrior? Byren repressed that thought as unworthy, while Cobalt's sword arm was still in a sling.
'Would you like a wine, cousin?' Cobalt asked.
'No, thank you. Have you seen Lence?' Byren addressed the question to the group as a whole.
'He went to Eagle Tower to clear his head,' Temor said.
'Tell him not to be late,' King Rolen advised, then caught Cobalt's eye. 'You know Lence, always chasing something pretty in a skirt.'
'And very good at catching them, from what I hear.' Cobalt winked.
King Rolen gave a great belly laugh. 'More luck to him!'
Cobalt topped up the king's glass, then Temor's. Again, he offered Byren the decanter. 'A cup of Rolencia's finest for you, Cousin?'
Byren shook his head and weaved through the forest of brilliantly decorated columns. Did Illien think their castle garish compared to Ostron Isle? It was Rolencia's custom to cover every surface with intricate carving, picked out in paint and gilding, enhanced with semi-precious stones. He left the great hall, passing under the arched doorway, its delicate floral carving highlighted by gold leaf on a pale blue background. Normally he wouldn't notice it, today he paused to study it and decided it was beautiful, what ever Illien thought.
As a small boy he'd adored Illien Cobaltson. Now he'd looked for, but did not find, the friendship he'd hoped would eventuate with Cobalt the man, and he did not understand why. Taking the passage, then crossing the courtyard, Byren headed for Eagle Tower.
'Byren?' Orrade called, catching up with him at the base of stairs that led up to the tower's first-floor door. Orrade glanced about, then stepped around the far side of the stairs so that they could speak privately.
'Why did you turn down the village girl?'
'Elina — '
'That's never stopped you in the past.'
Byren shrugged. 'It's different now.' For a heartbeat he tried to find the words to explain. It was true he and Orrade and Lence had gone wenching many times in the past. But it was different then, then he hadn't felt so deeply for Elina, then he hadn't known that Orrade preferred men to women… another thought struck him. 'You didn't think that I… that you — '
'No, not at all.' Orrade flushed and Byren suspected he had.
He was reminded of how he had snubbed his friend last night. If the true reason for Orrade's disinheritance was revealed, the men of Byren's honour guard would turn on him. And then Byren would be forced to deny him or lose the respect of his men.
'Listen, Orrie — '
'No, you listen. I've been thinking things through. Your honour guard don't understand why you turned the girl down. And you can't tell them about Elina because you can't offer her marriage now because of me. I've ruined things for you.' Orrade touched his chest where the damning symbol of Palos had lain hidden. He lifted troubled but determined eyes to Byren. 'I was wrong to join your honour guard. I don't want to be a liability. Release me from my oath so I can leave Rolencia.'
Stunned, Byren did not know what to say. Without Orrade he need not fear discovery…
Orrade must have read his face because he nodded once and turned on his heel and strode off.
Byren ran after him, catching up half way across the courtyard to grab his arm. 'Don't do this, Orrie. Stay.' He searched for a good reason. 'Think of Garzik. Who will watch over him?'
'Freezing Sylion!' Orrade flicked free of his hand, and cast a meaningful glance to the men-at-arms on the wall-walk who could see them below in the courtyard. 'I'm trying to protect you. I've lost position and family, I don't want that to happen to you!'
'Stay.'
Orrade searched his face. 'Why?'
Byren had no answer.
'Do you want me to stay, Byren? Tell me straight, because I'll go if you want me to.' Orrade's voice shook with repressed emotion. 'I couldn't stay knowing that you despise me.'
In a flash Byren understood. 'This is about last night when I snubbed you. Eh, Orrie. I'm a coward. I looked at you and my honour guard and I thought what if they knew about us. They'd — '
'There is no "us", Byren. I've loved you since we were fourteen. I've stood at your back and fought for my life, knowing you'd protect me, knowing that you trusted me not to turn and run.'
It was true.
Byren grasped his shoulder. 'I couldn't ask for a truer friend.'
Orrade blinked tears from his eyes and clasped Byren's hand where it rested on his shoulder. He had to clear his throat to speak. 'That's why I'm offering to go. I'd rather live as a beggar than dishonour you.'
'It would dishonour me if you left,' Byren said, and discovered he meant it.
Orrade met his eyes, face naked. What Byren read there made him look away. He was not worthy of such devotion.
Orrade cleared his throat, gave a small, jerky nod and walked off, leaving Byren alone in the courtyard.
He turned to face the steps to Eagle Tower. He had only a few moments to find Lence and give him the gift before the race for Halcyon's Fate started.
He took the tower's shallow steps two at a time, enjoying driving his powerful body.
'What's the rush?' Lence grinned. 'I could hear you thundering up the stairs like a wild boar.'
Byren laughed. The air was sharp and cold. It felt good on his face. He went to the battlement, leaned on the stone next to Lence and took a deep breath. It struck him that they hadn't been alone together for more than a moment or two since he came back with Orrade and Garzik. He put this aside and studied the snow-laden rich valley and Mount Halcyon itself, hub of the crescent.
Byren inhaled. He could smell beef seasoned with rosemary roasting for the feast tonight. Life was good. 'I have something for you.'
'Oh?' Lence turned to him.
Byren glanced down at his hand and hesitated. Once the kingsheir's betrothal was announced his twin would be swamped with exquisite and expensive gifts from the nobles, merchants and warlords, gifts that would make his token seem very meagre.
'It's just something I made.' Byren opened his hand to reveal the plaited leather thong, strung with the leogryf's teeth. As he looked down, he realised it was a boy's gift.
Lence stared at the trophy necklace.
'You keep it,' he said slowly. 'You earned it. After all, I can hardly give a string of leogryf teeth to the Merofynian kingsdaughter. It would confirm her worst fears. Illien says they already think us little better than spar warriors.'
Heat raced up Byren's cheeks.
'I see you wasted no time finding a reason to go to Dovecote,' Lence muttered.
'Orrie was injured.'
'He looks fine now. Was Elina pleased to see you?'
Byren's stomach clenched with pain. Elina… she had disturbed his sleep every night since he had been thrown out of Dovecote estate. In his dreams he would go to her and she would scorn him, telling him to go off with Orrade instead.
'Didn't waste any time, did you?' Lence asked.
'What?'
'My betrothal hasn't even been announced and you're already trying to charm your way into Elina's bed.'
'You fancy her!'
Lence nodded. 'And what's more, I've tasted her sweet fruit.'
'No, you never!'
'Autumn cusp, in the hay after the Harvest Feast.'
Byren blinked, shocked. Knowing Lence, it was no idle boast. Girls were always eager to lift their skirts for the kingsheir. But Elina? The most Byren had achieved was that kiss in the cold-cellar while she treated the bruise she'd given him, and he hadn't dared more because…
'Lord Dovecote would be furious if — '
'Fifteen's marriageable age and she'll be seventeen come spring cusp. Why hasn't he let her make an alliance? He's greedy, keeping her for himself to run his household. Besides, Elina's old enough to know her own mind.'
That was true, but… Byren remembered holding her as she wept in his arms. 'She deserves better than a fling in the hay, Lence.'
'Well, that's all I can offer, remember!' Lence snapped. 'I'm to be married to the Merofynian kingsdaughter. So, go ahead, woo her, marry her if she'll have you. But one day she will be my mistress. Most men are happy for their wives to swive the king!'
Byren took a step back, startled by his vehemence, startled that Lence would think like this. Of course he'd heard of the goings-on in the Merofynian court and the Elector of Ostron Isle was known to demand sexual favours for patronage. 'Cobalt's been putting ideas in your head.'
'Illien's seen the world,' Lence told him. 'All we've ever seen is Rolencia. Illien knows what's really going on in the Merofynian court.'
Did he? Byren didn't know who to ask. And if he had known who, it would have to be someone with Rolencia's best interests at heart. What if marriage to Isolt did not bring peace? What if it embroiled them in a civil war? As he went to speak the first horn sounded, calling the acolytes to the Proving.
Lence glanced out to the east where the town and lake were bustling with activity. 'The race will start soon. Are you coming?'
Byren caught Lence's arm. 'Elina turned me down. Don't let her come between us.'
'Oh, I won't.' Lence flicked his arm free and gave Byren a smile that made his twin look like someone else. 'I'll have her one day.'
Then Lence brushed the grit from the stone balustrade off his palms and left the tower top. Byren stood for a moment, stunned. How had things gone so wrong?
He and Lence had always competed for girls and glory but it had never turned nasty until now.
Grimly, Byren tucked the leogryf necklace inside his vest. It might be a handmade gift like the ones they had given each other as children, but a gift won at great risk was not a trifle.
Byren fingered the foenix spurs he wore around his neck. Three years ago, he and Lence had gone to capture a foenix and bring it back for the castle menagerie. It had died defending its nest. Lence would have smashed the eggs. Byren had brought them home for Piro. Now that he thought back over the years, he could see many small things that proved he and Lence saw the world differently. His twin had made no secret that he'd fancied Elina, but then he fancied a lot of women. It would be ironic if he lost his twin's trust over Elina when he had no chance to win her himself.
Worse, what if Cobalt's assessment of the balance of power was right?
Byren was overwhelmed with the need to see Fyn. Not that Fyn knew what was going on in the Merofynian court, but he would let Byren talk about his worries and Fyn had a way of cutting through to what was important.