'Can't be helped,' Byren muttered, mouth dry. Then anger flashed through him. 'Why did you have to wear that bloody pendant?'
'If you hated it so much, why didn't you get rid of it?' Orrade countered.
Why hadn't he? Byren snorted. 'I forgot I still had it.'
Orrade grinned ruefully. 'You always were too easy-going.'
They said nothing. The great house was oddly silent, as if all the servants were creeping about and speaking only in whispers.
'Suddenly I am a man without home or allegiance,' Orrade said, his voice gradually gathering strength. 'But I can still hold to my ideal, a world where a man who follows Palos is respected for his intrinsic worth, not despised for his — '
'Eh, Orrie. I don't think Rolencia's ready for you or your ideals,' Byren muttered. He did a mental calculation. 'It's been nearly thirty years since the last Servant of Palos was executed, but their betrayal is still fresh in the minds of my father's generation — '
'Their betrayal? What of all the times the warlords betrayed Rolencia? What of King Byren the Wicked who locked his nephew in Eagle Tower? Little Lence was the rightful heir, but he never lived to rule!'
'You're right, our history is a litany of betrayals but — '
'The Servants of Palos are particularly hated because they are lovers of men. I know. I'm sorry, Byren.'
He shrugged, forgetting Orrade couldn't see. 'What's done can't be undone. I guess we should pack and go.'
'Go where? You can go back to Rolenhold. Father will keep his word and Elina and Garzik will not reveal the reason I was disinherited. You can be sure I will never betray you, so you will not lose your inheritance because of me.'
While Orrade spoke, the ramifications hit Byren. What would his father say if he knew…
Byren fought a wave of nausea as he imagined King Rolen's reaction. At eighteen, his father had seen his own father betrayed and nearly lose the kingdom, all because of the Servants of Palos. His father would be devastated and Lence…
His twin would never believe it. Byren felt relieved as he thought this through. Lence would vouch for him and help convince their father. The three of them had gone wenching together enough times for Lence to know it was a lie.
But hopefully it wouldn't come to that. No one need ever know, not Fyn, his younger brother who had been gifted to Halcyon Abbey, not his mother or sister. His mouth went dry. But what if the servants suspected Orrade's real feelings? He knew how quickly rumour could spread. Before long, lies would seem like truth to those who did not know him. He groaned because it wasn't even remotely true.
Why did Orrade have to carry that accursed pendant?
Someone knocked on the door.
'Yes?' Orrade called.
The door opened to reveal the kitchen boy, who placed Byren's travelling pack on the floor. 'Cook's packing some food for you right now.' He looked up miserably. 'What's going on, Master Orrade? They say you're leaving.'
'And so I am. Don't worry, Rifkin. Just bring the food as soon as it is ready.'
A picture of dejection, the boy nodded and ran off.
Orrade shuddered. 'Where will I go? If only I could see, I could offer to serve in your father's honour guard, but who wants a blind warrior?'
Byren grasped Orrade's shoulder. 'You're coming back with me. You may be blind but you still have your wits, Orrie. And there's not a man who can match you word for word.'
Orrade's mouth twisted in a bitter parody of a smile. 'You're suggesting I turn a pretty rhyme for my supper?'
'No. I'm suggesting you come back as my advisor, just as Captain Temor advises father.'
But Orrade was off on another track. 'You took the blame for me, Byren, and I can't take it back. I tried but…'
'Doesn't matter,' Byren said. But it did, for if the rumour spread his reputation would be destroyed.
At least he was sure Lence would vouch for him.
Byren grinned. The old seer couldn't have been more wrong about his twin.
Chapter Four
A flash of annoyance warmed Fyn. The monks who should have been loading the sleds had wandered off. He lowered the bale and glanced back up the winding path to the abbey high upon Mount Halcyon. Almost dusk, no one else in sight.
The sleds stood on frozen Viridian Lake, waiting to be loaded so the monks could set off tomorrow. As a final-year acolyte it was not his place to tell first year monks what to do, but…
Jeering male laughter made Fyn stiffen. The sound carried from the next inlet along the lake's shore. He made his way carefully along the snowy bank, towards the outcropping that hid the inlet. Climbing onto the ledge, he crawled along until he could stretch out and look down onto the scene below, his head almost level with the monks'.
There were four of them, their different coloured robes revealing their affiliation with different abbey masters, but these four had always been fast friends, united by their similar natures. The monks had cornered a flock of grucranes. These large, cumbersome Affinity beasts survived Rolencia's cold winters by cohabiting with people. In exchange for a warm roost at night near the chimney pots of homes, they kept watch over the buildings. One of the flock was always awake, a stone clutched in its claw. If it fell asleep, the stone would fall and wake the others, so the birds made excellent sentries. Many a household had been saved from thievery or fire, always a constant threat with wooden homes, by the raucous cry of the sentry grucrane.
This particular flock slept on the abbey's chimney vents and spent their days on the lake, swimming and fishing in summer, fossicking along the shore in winter. Now they were confronted by Monk Galestorm and his three friends. The flock's leader had shepherded the birds into a hollow in the shoreline, effectively trapping them because, unless the heavy, ungainly birds took to the air, the only way out was closed off by Galestorm and his friends. Used to nothing but kindness from the monks, the birds milled about in confusion.
While his three companions watched, Galestorm shoved a stick at the Affinity beasts, then made an opening, only to dart in and block it off before the grucranes could escape.
Indignation filled Fyn. He wanted to jump down and defend the grucranes, but there were four monks and only one of him. It would be madness to risk a beating over a bird, even an Affinity-touched bird.
Galestorm misjudged the distance, or else really intended to harm the grucrane, for his next jab took it in the chest. It gave a raucous squawk of protest.
'Hey!' Fyn yelled, swinging his weight over the ledge and jumping down to the frozen lake below. A snow bank absorbed the impact of his landing.
'Fyn Rolen Kingson, what're you doing here?' Galestorm strode towards Fyn, swinging the stick so that it cut the air with a sickening swish.
Fyn's heart thundered and he glanced over his shoulder, but the rocks behind him were too steep to climb. He faced Galestorm. 'Leave the grucranes alone.'
'And what are you going to do about it, coward?'
Cruel laughter followed Galestorm's taunt.
Fyn shrank inside. The moment Galestorm was distracted, the lead bird took off, flapping madly to gain height, then circling protectively as the others spiralled above him, heading towards the abbey.
'Did you hear?' Galestorm asked his ready audience. 'The kingson faints at the sight of blood — '
'Watch out. The birds are getting away,' Onetree yelled.
Galestorm spun around, swore, then tossed the stick aside. He pulled out his slingshot, grabbed a stone from his pouch and let fly into the mass of grucranes. One bird gave a forlorn cry, falling to the lake with a solid thump.
Fyn could not believe his eyes. 'You idiot!'
Galestorm faced him, his top lip lifting in a sneer.