'And I thought you'd want to keep him as far from the renegade Affinity at the old camp as possible.'
'Good point.' He didn't want Catillum anywhere near those caves with their old, untamed Affinity. Byren grinned and squeezed Orrade's shoulders. 'What would I do without you?'
Orrade shrugged. 'Flounder on, I suppose.'
Byren laughed and thumped him. As they marched out of the stable a horn sounded.
Everyone froze.
Byren met Orrade's eyes. Were they under attack?
He bounded up the tower stairs with Orrade at his heels. Here they found Feid already holding the Ostronite farseer to his eye.
'What is it?' Byren asked.
Wordlessly, Feid passed him the tube and Byren looked through it. He spotted three ships bristling with warriors, their helmets and shields gleaming in the sun. The wind lifted the banners to reveal the rearing cockatrice. Relief flooded him.
Byren closed the farseer with a snap and shouted the news. People cheered.
They headed down to the wharf, where the first ship retracted its oars as ropes were thrown across and secured. A young man marched down the gangplank, hand on sword hilt.
'That cub's too young to be the new warlord,' Orrade muttered.
'Well, he brings three hundred warriors, whatever he is,' Byren said and went down the wharf to greet the boy-warrior who stood almost as tall as Byren, but looked no more than fifteen.
'Byren Kingsheir?' he demanded.
Byren nodded.
He dropped to one knee. 'I'm Aseel, younger brother of Warlord Hrost, of Cockatrice Spar. I've come with three hundred men to help you retake Rolencia.' He got up, dusting off his knees and added apologetically, 'Hrost has kept back the rest. He doesn't trust Leogryf Spar.'
Byren snorted. 'For good reason. Lord Leon promised to support us then rode over the Divide!'
'He betrayed you?' Aseel demanded. 'He joined Cobalt?'
'Don't worry.' Seeing himself only a few years ago, Byren slung an arm around Aseel's shoulders and turned him towards the others. 'A warrior from the spar is worth two from the valley. Come meet Orrade and Warlord Feid.'
Chapter Nineteen
Fyn studied the map. At last, they had entered the deep narrow bay that would bring them to Feid's stronghold. By midday he would see Byren and bring him the good news. He couldn't hold back a smile.
'Bad news.' Captain Nefysto walked into the cabin, with a messenger bird on his wrist, his expression grim. He crossed the cabin and placed the bird in its cage, behind the screen. 'The old elector is dead and there's been fighting in the streets of Ostron Isle. As yet there is no elector and we don't know if the new one will honour the alliance.'
Fyn came to his feet, mind racing. 'Only we know about this and, when the new elector is named, the mage will endeavour to win their support. Tell no one, Nefysto. Understood?'
'I was serving the mage when you were an abbey brat, little monk.' But there was a smile in his eyes.
Fyn had the grace to grin then remembered a comment Tyro had made. 'I gather the mage has a spy on this spar. Will Feid know about the elector's death?'
Nefysto shrugged. 'I'm not privy to the mage's machinations and I certainly don't know the identity of his spies.'
Midday saw Fyn on the deck of the sea-hound, studying the warlord's stronghold as they approached. Below it, a collection of cottages clung to the steep slope that led down to Foenix Spar's only harbour. Even from here, he could see pigs and chickens wandering the muddy streets, squabbling and squawking. After Ostron Isle the comparison was not favourable.
Their ship had been sighted, and as it drew near, mothers called for children to come running. The women retreated, clutching the little ones' hands, and closed up their houses, to watch no doubt through peek holes. The spars were wary of everyone and the sea-hounds owed them no allegiance.
Word must have been sent up the steep road to the stronghold. By the time the oarsmen had guided the Wyvern's Whelp into its berth and made the ship secure, a delegation strode down the slope. Fyn searched for Byren's broad shoulders but could not find them.
'My brother isn't there,' Fyn said to Nefysto. Had Byren fallen foul of his injuries after all? Then he spotted Orrade. He would know. Fyn waved. 'Orrie!'
As his brother's best friend sprinted along the wharf, Fyn charged down the gangplank. They collided, laughing and hugging.
'You've grown, Fyn,' Orrade said, stepping back to look at him.
'I'll never be as big as the twins…' Fyn broke off, remembering Lence's loss all over again. He looked around for Byren. 'Where's — '
'You missed him. He's gone ahead to attack the fort across Foenix Pass. And I'm leaving tomorrow to aid him.'
'Then I'm coming with you. I've news for him.' Fyn patted his vest where the message cylinder was hidden. He glanced over at the waiting men. 'I don't see Garzik?'
Orrade's thin features tightened with sorrow and his voice grew rough. 'He fell the night Palatyne took Dovecote. We lost Elina and Father that night, too.'
Unable to find the words, Fyn hugged him again.
As he pulled back, Orrade managed a smile. 'So where have you been? Playing sea-hound-and-Utland raider?' It was a game they'd indulged in as children.
Fyn laughed. 'I've much to tell you, Orrie.' He nodded past Orrade's shoulder to the spar warriors. 'Can we trust them?'
'As far as we can trust anyone from the spars.' Orrade slung an arm around Fyn's shoulders. 'Come on. I'll introduce you. Ah, but you're a sight for sore eyes. We heard Piro lived, but no one knew what'd happened to you.'
'About Piro…' Fyn fell into step with him, then remembered the sea-hound captain. 'First, you must meet Nefysto.'
They'd agreed to pretend the sea-hound had delivered Fyn for a fee and the chance to trade. It felt wrong to lie to Orrade, but the mage's secrets were not his to share.
By now the rest of the delegation had reached them, and Orrade made the introductions. Most notable amongst them was the handsome youth, who turned out to be a mountain girl called Florin, and the warlord's new lady, Cinna. When Nefysto greeted Lady Cinna, he acted as though they'd never met, but there was a hint of laughter in his black eyes, which was echoed in hers.
While the sea-hounds were setting up their goods on the wharf and the inhabitants of Feidton gathered, eager to begin bargaining, Fyn slipped over to speak with Nefysto.
'So you do know the mage's spy,' he said.
A smile tugged at Nefysto's lips but he didn't answer.
'Orrade tells me she was a kitchen maid in some merchant's house when Feid met her, and it's a love match,' Fyn pressed for a reaction. 'Does the mage deal in love potions now or is she such a fine actress she'll bear his children?'
Nefysto caught Fyn by his vest, swung him behind some tall bales and thrust him up against them. 'That's my cousin you're talking about.'
Fyn gulped. 'My apologies, captain. I meant no insult.'
Nefysto let him slide to the ground.
Fyn adjusted his clothing. The women of the five families were renowned for handling finances, driving hard bargains and marrying to cement alliances. 'If Lady Cinna comes from one of the five families of Ostron Isle, what's she doing spying for the mage?'
Nefysto looked as if he wouldn't answer, then he let out his breath in a huff of annoyance. 'Cinna was born the wrong side of the blanket, so she can never be acknowledged, but she could have served the family safely. She would never have gone hungry. Cinna, however, always preferred excitement. If she's married this spar warlord it's because she loves him. And he's a lucky man.'
'Yet, she's still spying for the mage?'
'Be glad she is, for your brother's sake.' And Nefysto strode off, offering the Lady Cinna his arm to show her the sea-hounds' wares.