Piro straightened and came over to her. 'Don't worry. I'll be with you.'
'Speak only Merofynian,' Tyro warned. 'Piro, let the nobles think you don't understand Ostronite. Report everything you hear.'
She both nodded. Since the mage had taken them in and promised to protect them, spying for him was the least she could do.
Fyn lifted his face to the morning sun and inhaled the sea breeze. A messenger bird gave its cry, alerting him, and he lifted his arm, adjusting for the bird's weight. It was marvellous how the picas could find this ship on the faceless ocean. They chose to come to him, because of his natural Affinity.
According to the mage's spies three of the spar warlords had sworn to fight alongside his brother. Fyn had suggested they send a message directly to the spy in Feid's stronghold but Nefysto explained the Wyvern's Whelp pica would fly only to Mage Isle.
'Then the mage must send a message to the kingsheir,' Fyn had said.
'That is up to the mage. He may not want to reveal his spy.' Nefysto had shaken his head. 'Let the mage play the game his way, Agent Monk.'
Now Fyn headed towards Nefysto, who was taking a reading of the height of the sun above the horizon to work out their position. 'A message, captain.'
Nefysto put his sextant aside and offered his hand to the bird, taking her into his cabin, where the male sang sweetly in greeting.
The bird knew it would not be placed with its mate until it delivered its message and began to warble in fast, garbled tones that Fyn found almost impossible to understand.
Fyn watched Nefysto, trying to read his face. 'Bad news?'
The captain walked the bird over to the cage, where its mate hopped around in excitement, singing loudly. He slipped the cage door open and the female fluttered over to the stand. The two birds wrapped their heads around each other and set up a soft cooing. And Nefysto slid the screen across.
'Not bad news of Isolt and her maid?' Fyn pressed.
'The warlord of Leogryf Spar promised to support Byren Kingsheir, but he has been seen moving his men over the Divide into Rolencia. And there is still no word from Cockatrice Spar.'
'Leogryf has betrayed him?' Fyn cursed. 'When the Leogryf warlord hears of the elector's alliance he will regret his choice.'
'You'll have to wait three days.' Nefysto laughed. 'The Wyvern's Whelp can't get you there any faster.'
'A lot can happen in three days,' Fyn muttered, but he had to be content with that.
Piro decided that she did not like the mage. He had a terrible temper. When Agent Tyro was late he told the coachman to set off without him. Isolt and Piro exchanged glances and huddled in their seats. The mage was the oldest man Piro had ever met — so frail and bent he was barely taller than her. His face was webbed with wrinkles, and bristly white brows hid his eyes.
He grumbled when they had to walk from the coach to the chambers, where the elector's feast was being held. He grumbled while they waited in line to be received by the elector. But Piro was not fooled. His grumbling hid a mind as sharp as the winter wind.
At last they stepped onto the dais to greet the elector, who lay on a daybed. The couch was cast from bronze, decorated with wyverns. Even the couch's legs ended in wyvern claws. Piro was aware of the nobles watching, listening avidly. At Isolt's name there was a ripple of reaction and excited speculation.
Piro stood behind Isolt, as a maidservant should. The elector's couch was only a body length from her. When Isolt and the mage stepped aside, she caught sight of the elector for the first time. Her vision shimmered and shifted to Unseen sight. The bones of the elector's skull showed through his skin. She gasped and glanced around. Had no one else noticed?
'And who is that behind Isolt Merofyn Kingsdaughter?' the elector asked in Ostronite.
'Her maid, Seela.' The mage gave Piro a nudge forwards, speaking Merofynian.
Struggling to hide the fact that she viewed the Unseen world, Piro somehow remembered her role, gave a servant's bow and said the first thing that came into her head. 'Your wyvern couch is a wondrous thing.'
'Do you like wyverns?' The elector spoke Merofynian out of courtesy. Since his face was little more than a talking skull, Piro found it hard to meet his eyes.
'A big male nearly killed us.' Piro winced. He was going to die and all she could talk about was death.
'They're not all like that. You must see my pet wyvern. She's a beauty.'
'You are very kind,' Piro said, and he was, to notice a mere servant. She bowed, and they stepped down from the dais as other nobles claimed the elector's attention. Piro tore her gaze away from him.
'What is it, girl?' the mage asked. But before she could answer a beautiful middle-aged woman approached them.
'This is Comtissa Cera. Her husband, the Comtes, died last year and she fancies herself the next elector,' Mage Tsulamyth whispered to Isolt and Piro. 'Beware this cat. She has claws.'
'Mage Tsulamyth?' The comtissa bestowed a bow on him.
'Comtissa,' the mage greeted her with no more than a nod.
Comtissa Cera ignored Piro, who dragged in a ragged breath and tried to control her Affinity-induced sight. The world no longer shimmered.
'I hear your father grows weaker every day, my dear,' the comtissa said to Isolt. 'What will you do when he dies? You cannot let a barbarian duke claim the throne of Merofynia.'
Piro stiffened. But Isolt was used to dealing with this kind of courtier.
'Oh, Father is much better than he appears,' Isolt replied. 'It is the elector's health I fear for. What will Ostron Isle do when they lose him? With the Twin Isles in upheaval, Ostron Isle needs a strong leader.'
The comtissa's eyes narrowed.
Just then another group came over to meet Isolt and the mage introduced them. Comtes Abeillus began to pay Isolt extravagant compliments, which Piro knew would bore her silly.
Piro glanced out through the arches to the courtyard where a fountain played over a pool. Servants had poured oil on the pool's surface and lit it. Statues of wyverns frolicked in the flames as if frozen in stone. Such extravagance.
Behind her two old noblemen, who thought Piro could not understand their language, spoke frankly of Duke Palatyne. For all they cared he might conquer Rolencia and the Snow Bridge. They did not fear him, because of the logistics of attacking Ostron Isle. The Merofynian army would have to sail across the Stormy Sea and enter the Ring Sea. But they would never get that far because Ostron Isle had the greatest navy the world had ever seen and, as a last resort, they could tighten the chain across the entrance to the Ring Sea.
All around her the nobles jostled and jockeyed for position, shoring up alliances. They were like carrion birds waiting for the elector to die so they could pick over the bones.
Piro felt a touch on her back.
'We have been seen and discussed, we can go now. My bones are too old for these late nights.' The mage leant heavily on Isolt's arm. 'But first we must take formal leave of the elector.'
Due to the crowd, they had not moved more than a few steps from the edge of the dais. Piro looked over at the elector.
In a blink, her sight shifted to the Unseen world again. The elector was just a skull, bare bones, no skin, no life. With a start she realised this was one of the nexus points Tyro had spoken of and she had failed to heed her Affinity.
The elector was going to die tonight.
Piro slipped through the nobles, running lightly to the dais, where she dropped to her knees. The elector clutched his chest, straining to breathe. His eyes were frightened. His hand seized hers, squeezing so hard her bones hurt.
'Mage,' Piro cried, her high voice cutting through all conversation. 'The elector needs you!'
The musicians stopped mid-note. The elector's breath rattled in his throat. Once, twice, he gasped. Then no more. As his spirit left, Piro's sight returned to normal.