The King's bastard

'It would be a wise move.' Lonepine winked. 'Then you won't have to compete with me to be weapons master!'

Fyn laughed and mock-punched him, but his heart was not in it.

Piro waited in her mother's private chamber down one end of the solarium. Listening for the distinctive chink, chink of her mother's walk, every second step punctuated by the heavy ring of keys she wore at her waist. Keys for chambers, keys for account cabinets, keys for chests and keys for cellars. She was hoping her mother had the key to her problems.

After taking off her head-dress and cloak, Piro sat in front of the fire to get warm. Her cheeks still stung from standing on the battlements in the cold breeze to see the last of the monks glide off across Sapphire lake.

Staring into the flames, Piro wound her cap's red satin ribbons through her fingers. Her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep and loud sounds made her jump. The dream about Byren was only one of many nightmares. Since looking into the Mirror of Insight her dreams had been haunted. Every night as soon as she drifted off, she saw wyverns rampaging through the castle corridors, eating in the great hall, drinking and laughing while her people went in fear of them. She dreaded falling asleep.

Piro was desperate enough to turn to her mother. How did the queen hide her Affinity? How could she have let her own father ride to his death? The more Piro thought about it, the more she realised she did not know her mother, had never known her.

'What are you doing, sitting here all alone?' her old nurse asked, bustling in with an armful of freshly laundered linen. She began folding things, slipping lavender bags between the layers as she tucked them away in various chests.

'Where's mother?'

'With your father, entertaining the Merofynian ambassador. He'll be going back soon. When next we see him it will be the Jubilee and Isolt Kingsdaughter will be with him.' The old nurse frowned at Piro. 'You must be on your best behaviour next time you see Rejulas — '

'I can't face him, Seela. I don't know what to do. My Affinity is getting worse!' Piro gestured wildly, cap swinging by its ribbons. 'Rejulas handed me a slice of perfectly good sweet bread with cream but when I tried to eat it I nearly choked. Father later ate the whole loaf so there was nothing wrong with it. If the Affinity wasn't trying to tell me to beware Rejulas, what does it mean?'

'It means you can't trust what you see, hear or feel. Ahh, Piro!' Seela's face creased with sympathy. 'To be god-touched is not a pleasant thing. Your mother's had to live with it all these years, never knowing if the nightmares she has are visions or simply bad dreams. As for Rejulas, I know what you're like. You went into the trophy chamber all churned up with anger and resentment. No wonder you couldn't eat.'

'No. It wasn't me. It was a message from the gods. I'm sure of it.'

Seela rolled her eyes.

Piro put her hands on her hips, cap dangling. 'I'm going to ask mother.'

'No, don't trouble her.' Seela closed the chest and came over to Piro, taking the cap from her and smoothing the crumpled ribbons. 'I didn't tell her about your Affinity. Don't disappoint her.'

Piro's shoulder's slumped. 'I'm sorry if I'm a disappointment to her.'

'You misunderstand me. She'd be disappointed in herself. We'll keep this a secret, you and I.' Seela summoned a smile. 'From what your father says Rejulas is a brave, clever man.'

'I still don't trust him.'

'Words are cheap, deeds ring true. This is what I told your mother when she was fretting about coming here. She was only a little thing, eight years old. I told her, only by King Rolen's actions can we know if he is trustworthy. Give him a chance to prove himself. And she did and look what happened!' Seela took Piro's hand. 'The best thing you can do is close your heart and mind against the Affinity, just as your mother has done, and do your duty as a kingsdaughter.'

Piro sighed. Since this was also Fyn's advice, she nodded. 'All right, but I can't sleep for the nightmares.'

'We can banish those. A little sleeping draught will do the trick. Your mother has been taking it for years. Whenever it gets bad we say she's having one of her turns and she retreats to her private chamber so that I can dose her. I'll water down some dreamless-sleep for you this very night. You're worrying needlessly.' Seela patted Piro's arm. 'I know. Let's prepare a performance for the visiting nobles. We can get the costume chest out and do one of the midwinter pageants!'

Piro nodded slowly. Usually she enjoyed performing but now it all seemed so trivial.

Seeing her expression, Seela clucked her tongue. 'Dreamless-sleep will settle the nightmares. It works on your mother. You'll see.'

And Piro had to be satisfied with this as Seela bustled off. Alone again, she paced the chamber. It was all very well to say that Rejulas's action would tell her what kind of man he was, but what if she was already married to him when she discovered he could not be trusted? How would she escape him?

Fyn arrived at the abbey as the sun was setting behind the Dividing Mountains. After pulling the sled for three days solid, his thighs and shoulders ached. All he wanted to do was rest, but first he had to take Joff to the boys master. This happened to suit him, since he wanted to ask Master Wintertide's advice.

He dumped his travelling pack on his bunk and turned to Joff, who was standing in the acolytes' dormitory looking out of place while the others unloaded their packs, checked the work roster then shuffled off to line up for the hot baths.

'Come on, Joff.' Fyn headed for the corridor, pointing out the rooms as they passed them. 'This wing of chambers houses the acolytes in order of rank, oldest at this end, the youngest down here.' He passed that door and entered the spiral central stairs, gesturing upwards. 'The hothouses are high above in the crater's mouth, set on the shores of Lake Halcyon. That's where we bring on the seedlings so the farmers can make an early start with their planting. Otherwise they'd never get two crops harvested each summer.'

Joff nodded as they headed down the steps. As a farmer's son, he would be familiar with monks delivering hothouse seedlings.

'Fyn?' Lonepine called over the acolytes' balcony. 'You're rostered to work in the gardens tonight.'

Fyn cursed under his breath.

'But we've only just got back,' Joff muttered. 'How could you be rostered to work? That's not fair.'

'Who said abbey life was fair?' Fyn muttered, then took pity on Joff's confusion. 'No. It's not fair. But that's the way it is. The acolytes master is warning me.'

'Why?'

'Because I haven't accepted his offer.'

'Why not?'

Fyn sighed. 'You ask a lot of questions.'

Joff shrugged. 'If I don't ask, how will I ever learn?'

Fyn grinned. During the sled ride he'd discovered he liked Joff.

'This way.' Fyn continued down the stairs to the next level. 'This is where the boys live. They're aged between six and twelve, so you'll be the oldest. But don't worry, Wintertide is the best of the masters.'

He jogged down the corridor towards his old teacher's chambers, pausing in the entrance. 'Master Wintertide?'

'He's not here,' a small boy said.

'Do you know how long he will be?'

The boy shook his head. 'Is there a message I can give the master?'

Fyn hesitated. When he had been Wintertide's servant, bigger boys had offered him bribes to spy for them. He'd refused no matter how much they tried to intimidate him. He had no idea how many masters this boy served.

'The abbot called all masters up to his chambers,' the boy volunteered.

Fyn suspected the masters and the abbot were discussing Provings so far. He suspected his presence was like turning up an Unknowable card in a Duelling Kingdom games. If he was put with the wrong master, the balance of power in the abbey hierarchy would be disrupted.

The first prayer bell rang.