The Ursuper

Lord Leon nodded, his eyes on the map. He tapped the last spar, the one that ran north from the far tip of Rolencia's crescent. 'Nothing from Manticore?'

'Nothing from Manticore, yet.' Byren felt his supporters watching him, felt the weight of their expectation. 'And nothing from Cockatrice. After Rejulas's death the warriors of Cockatrice Spar had to appoint a new leader. We've heard they have chosen one now and I expect he'll be eager to swear his allegiance.'

'And when will you attack?'

'When the moment is right.'

Lord Leon lifted his hands palm up. 'It will take days to return to Leogryf Spar, call in our warriors and return.'

'I know,' Byren said. 'I'll figure this into my calculations.' The alternative was to send for the warriors now and let them eat Feid's food set aside for summer, while waiting to attack. 'I'll let you know when I need Leogryf's men.'

'Why not call them in now?' Orrade suggested.

Byren tensed. It wasn't like Orrade to speak at cross purposes to him, especially in front of the others.

Lord Leon turned to Byren. 'Is that what you want?'

'No. I'll let you know.'

'Very well. I set sail tomorrow, to report to my uncle.'

As Feid and Catillum escorted the Leogryf warrior from the room, Byren fell behind, catching Orrade's arm. 'What were you thinking? We can't ask our host to feed seven hundred men.'

'I don't like this Lord Leon. I wanted to call his bluff. Did you see how he reacted?'

'He offered to bring the warriors.'

'Yes, but…'

'But?'

Orrade shrugged as if he couldn't explain.

'Have you had an Affinity vision?'

'No…'

Byren waited. Orrade didn't elaborate, so he strode off to catch up with the nephew of one of the stronger warlords.

Later that evening, while their men played games of dice in the castle's great hall and sang drinking songs, Feid turned to Byren. 'You didn't tell him our plan to go over the old pass and attack the fort from Rolencia's undefended side?'

Byren had just taken a mouthful of mutton and Orrade answered for him.

'Because the fewer who know, the fewer who can betray us.'

No one spoke as they watched the men eat their way through the castle's stores. It would be a lean, late summer before the crops came in. Byren was surprised Feid wasn't encouraging him to attack already.

'And besides,' Orrade muttered, 'Lord Leon has probably already guessed how we came across the Divide. I wouldn't be surprised if each spar had a secret pass.'

Byren blinked. Of course, that made sense.

Here he was, obsessed with his own problems and Orrade saw further. What would he do without him? He put his ale down and turned to Feid. 'Are there more secret passes?'

The warlord lifted his hands in a shrug. 'If there are, the warlords haven't shared their whereabouts with me.'

Byren was not surprised. Alliances between the spar warlords were short-lived and prone to betrayals. He drained his ale. Across the hall, near the stairs to the bedchambers, he noticed Florin. She beckoned and his body tightened in anticipation.

But this was not an assignation. Florin did not play those kinds of games. Whatever she wanted to see him about it would not result in him tupping her up against the wall. More's the pity. And, after the trouble he'd gone to, to ensure Winterfall and others like him didn't get the wrong idea about her, he should be ashamed to even think it.

The problem was he couldn't help his body's reaction.

Byren stood and stretched casually, glad his jerkin came down to mid-thigh. 'Think I'll turn in.'

Orrade met his eyes, not fooled for a moment. But he said nothing.

They hadn't seen much of Florin. She'd spent her days with Feid's wife, who avoided the great hall and its noisy drinking.

Byren caught Orrade's eye and nodded to Feid.

When his friend diverted the warlord with an arm wrestle, Byren slipped away, his heart pounding despite himself.

He passed the monks' table, where Catillum spoke earnestly while his men listened. It was unlike the table where Old Man Narrows sat. There, the maimed player entertained them with ribald stories, amidst shouts and laughter.

When Byren approached Florin, she backed out of the hall into the dark corner at the base of the stairs. Despite everything he'd told himself, Byren's body quickened in anticipation. He saw her only as a dark shape, her pale face surrounded by midnight hair.

She reached for him, pulling him closer. Not into an embrace, but so that her words would not be overheard. 'You can't trust the warlord!'

'I don't trust him. He says one thing, but his eyes say another. Still, he has given his word to bring seven hundred fighting men and I can't afford to — '

'Not Lord Leon. Feid!'

Byren blinked. 'Mountain-girl, you — '

She thumped his chest. 'I might be nothing but a mountain girl, but I have eyes and the wits I was born with. You asked me to watch Feid's lady.'

To keep her out of harm's way.

Florin did not wait for his reply. 'Lady Cinna has pet birds. She spends hours talking to them in her own language.'

'No harm in that. She's lonely.'

'They talk back to her.'

'Eh.' Byren grinned. 'My mother had a pet parrot. It could say a dozen things. She wept when it died. I remember, I was seven and — '

'These aren't parrots.' Florin's glare seared him.

Ah, but she was fetching when she was angry. He hid a smile.

Florin glanced over her shoulder and stepped closer still. 'Today, after we heard about Lord Leon's offer, Cinna disappeared into the chamber where she keeps her birds. Later, I checked. One of them was missing. She said it must have escaped and pretended to look for it, but I think she sent it off with a message.'

Byren felt the laughter leave his body. 'Are these bird black and white?'

'Yes.'

He took a step back, and felt the solid wall behind him. Ostronite messenger birds? Only the elector and his spies had access to pica pairs.

'Byren?'

What would a humble kitchen maid be doing with Ostronite messenger birds? What if she wasn't a humble kitchen maid, but one of the elector's spies? Ostron Isle was a powerful ally, if a fickle one. Byren's head spun. Why plant a spy on Foenix Spar, of all places?

'You believe me now,' Florin said.

'Aye.' He believed the warlord's lady had black and white birds for pets that could be possibly be a pica pair. But he also believed Feid's marriage was a love match. Perhaps it was, and the elector's spymaster had enlisted her? Yet, Lady Cinna seemed to adore her warlord husband and Byren's gut instinct told him to trust Feid.

'What will you do?' Florin pressed.

'Nothing… for now.' Byren smiled at her impatience. 'As my old nurse used to say, actions speak louder than words. Feid has taken us in and fed us.'

'But — '

'Watch the Lady Cinna. If Feid betrays us, we will not be taken by surprise. Thank you, Florin.'

She shrugged his thanks off as if annoyed and went up the stairs. Byren watched her go, mesmerised by the unconscious sway of her hips.

If Feid was betraying him to Ostron Isle, then the warlord was a better actor than Byren had given him credit for. If the warlord's lady was the betrayer, then she was a consummate actress.

Chapter Sixteen

Piro laced up Isolt's bodice, her fingers flying. Being a lady's maid was not so hard. She stepped back and Isolt let her hair fall down. Long and sleek, it fell to her waist, a sheet of black silk. They were about to meet the mage or, at the very least, his agent.

'You look every bit a kingsdaughter,' Piro told her.

Clothes had been provided in both their sizes. They wore rich satins, laces and velvets with tight bodices and full skirts that finished just above the ankle to show off their exquisite slippers, Ostronite-style.