'Either they have some marvellous seamstresses, or the mage knew my size and the colours I like,' Isolt said. She turned Piro around to do her laces, though her fingers were not as skilled. 'But how did he know your size?'
Piro shrugged and held her hair out of the way. When Isolt finished she gave a wriggle to settle the bodice in place then let her hair drop. 'Who knows? Perhaps they have a range of clothes ready-made. Perhaps the mage is a good guesser.'
Isolt met her eyes, suddenly serious. 'We must be wary of this mage, Seela.'
Piro understood the warning and heard the added emphasis on her assumed name. But the singing of the porters unloading cargo came through the open cabin windows on warm air, bringing the scent of salt-water and fish, mixed with spices and seaweed left in the sun too long.
Piro shrugged off Isolt's fears with a laugh. 'Spring is here.' There was a knock at the door. 'That'll be Fyn. Shall we go?'
Isolt rolled her eyes. 'This time, don't let Captain Nefysto get me alone. If I have to listen to another of his songs composed in my honour, I'll fake a fainting fit.'
Piro grinned and opened the door. She hardly recognised Fyn. He looked very fine in Ostronite fashion, a well-cut velvet vest, full silk sleeves, leggings and boots. But he was not so fine as the captain, who wore a hand's span of lace at each cuff. She hid a smile, thinking what her father and Lence would have made of a sea-hound who wore lace and wrote love songs.
'Ready?' Fyn asked. He looked Piro up and down. 'Don't you have a dress more fitting for a maid?'
'I can't help it. All the dresses in my size are like this.'
'They fight like brother and sister.' Nefysto shook his head and offered his arm to Isolt. 'May I escort you to the carriage?'
Piro saw Isolt put on her Merofynian face, the mask that hid her emotions.
'You are too kind,' she said, but Isolt's voice held a hint of warmth that hadn't been there in Merofynia, for the kingsdaughter genuinely liked Nefysto.
Piro hid a smile, then noticed how Fyn's mouth tightened.
Piro's foenix gave a soft call of dismay as she walked out. She glanced back to where he sat in the cage. 'They'll send him with our things?'
'It is all organised,' Fyn said.
They went out on deck and across the gangplank to the waiting carriage, which rattled over the cobbles. It was hard to see much of Ostron Isle through the small window. Piro caught flashes of lattice-covered balconies, and heard laughing people chatter in a language spoken too quickly for her to follow. She was better at reading Ostronite than speaking it. As of today, she would get the practice needed to improve her mastery of the spoken language.
'Will you be coming to see the mage with us?' Piro asked Captain Nefysto before he could take out his citole, run his fingers across the strings and serenade Isolt with another ode to her beauty.
'Only as far as the courtyard. I report to one of his agents.'
'We're nearly there,' Fyn announced. 'Look out the window, Isolt, and you will see the tallest tower in the world.'
As they rolled across a stone bridge, Piro peered out of Isolt's window. They had to crane their necks to see the top of the slender tower. It glistened white and fresh against the intense blue of the sky.
They entered the shadow of the bridge's gate-towers and rolled into a courtyard. Eager to help Isolt from the carriage, Captain Nefysto stepped down and slung the citole over his back. Fyn stood on her other side, offering his arm. Isolt laughed and ignored them both, jumping lightly to the ground. Both men began pointing out things of interest, ignoring Piro, who shook her head in wonder as she climbed down. What was it about Isolt that made men act so stupidly? Isolt certainly didn't welcome their attention.
Nefysto pulled off his feathered hat and swept a courtly bow, taking his leave of them. A boy of about twelve, wearing a less ornate, miniature version of Nefysto's clothes right down to the feathered cap, came over to them. He swept an identical bow and asked them to follow him.
'How's your brother's foot?' Fyn asked.
The lad frowned at Fyn and turned his back with great dignity. 'Follow me.'
Fyn dropped back, whispering to Piro and Isolt. 'Beware what you say in front of him. In fact, beware what you see. Things are not as they seem here.'
Piro nodded, although she didn't know what he expected them to do. Did they have to prod everything to make sure it was real?
She took another look at Fyn. He seemed outwardly composed, but his shoulders held tension, there was a grimness around his mouth, and his eyes were too sharp. Her stomach clenched in response to his unspoken trepidation. If he feared this meeting, then so should she.
They were led inside, up three flights of stairs and down several corridors until they came to a circular chamber. A balcony at the far end overlooked the Ring Sea.
Sunlight reflected from the water below, creating rippling patterns across the white ceiling. From the circular shape of the chamber, she guessed they were in the tower. The floor was covered with blue tiles so shiny they glistened like water. A large war table dominated the room, with a perfect replica of the known world.
A single figure stood on the balcony, the slight breeze stirring his long black hair.
'I hoped we'd see the mage himself,' Fyn muttered. 'This is only his agent, Tyro. But he has renegade Affinity too, so watch out for him.'
Piro nodded, relaxing a little. Then she stiffened as the agent strode into the room. She had the strangest feeling she knew him. But she would have remembered this intense, thin, young man. From his narrow chin to his high forehead and black eyes, he was… Those eyes…
Fyn gave an abbreviated bow. 'Meet Isolt Merofyn Kingsdaughter and her maid, Seela. Turns out, Isolt knew nothing of the betrothal and did not want to marry Palatyne.'
Piro was aware of something unspoken passing between Agent Tyro and Fyn.
'So she is happy to take sanctuary on Ostron Isle,' Fyn finished. 'Where is Mage Tsulamyth?'
'Dealing with other, more important matters,' the agent said. 'I have been his voice for many years.'
Piro thought this must be an exaggeration for he looked no older than Lence. But then Lord Dunstany had been much older than he looked. Ah, that was it. The agent bore a strong family resemblance to the noble scholar and Dunstany did say his long life was a by-product of his Affinity.
Every now and than, as if his shielding was imperfect, she could feel a wash of Affinity roll off the agent. It reminded her of the way the air around Lord Dunstany used to hum with power. It made her dizzy.
She took a step back and Isolt steadied her, sending a look of query.
Too much Affinity, Piro mouthed.
When Tyro turned towards Isolt, Piro blended into the background as a maid should.
The agent gave Isolt a Merofynian bow as he spoke in her own language. His deep voice also struck Piro as familiar. 'You have come a long way, kingsdaughter. Welcome to Mage Isle.'
Piro watched as the kingsdaughter assumed what she thought of as Isolt's Merofynian court face.
'I thank Mage Tsulamyth for offering me sanctuary. In truth, I had little choice. Duke Palatyne will be furious when he learns where I am. I don't wish to be a burden to Ostron Isle.' Isolt looked down, then up, her mask slipping to reveal a flash of defiance. 'But I refused to stay and play Palatyne's game of Duelling Kingdoms.'
'In my capacity as his agent, I offer the mage's protection. You don't need to worry about Palatyne. He leads by fear, not example, and such men do not live long,' Agent Tyro said. Piro thought him slightly pompous. 'Palatyne will be furious but, while you are on Mage Isle, you are safe. However, you cannot hide forever. Have you thought what you will do?'
Fyn spoke quickly. 'Since Lence Kingsheir is dead, by the laws of Rolencia and Merofynia, Isolt is betrothed to Rolencia's uncrowned king, Byren.'