The Ursuper

'Captain in his cabin?' Fyn asked.

'You missed him. He's with his family, up at the ceremony.'

Fyn cursed silently. He should have anticipated this. He slid out a message cylinder, pinched from the war table room. 'We're supposed to sail at first light. Give this to the captain when he comes in.'

The sailor shook his head. 'Can't be done. Half the crew won't be back till midday and the ship has to be provisioned.'

'Very well. But my mission is of the greatest urgency. I will return at lunchtime tomorrow.' Fyn strode off. As soon as he was out of sight he bent double to catch his breath.

A snatch of music and laughter wafted down from the elector's gardens.

Isolt was up there. He'd pretended to be asleep when she came to check on him. It had been on the tip of his tongue to apologise. Since he was going to rescue Byren, so his brother could marry her and unite their kingdoms, he deserved one more chance to see her.

Fyn headed up the slope. He would blend into the crowd, watch her from afar. He entered through one of the many garden archways and made for the lantern-dotted terraces. Now that he was here and saw the crowds he realised how hopeless it was. Still he wandered, listening for Isolt's voice in the laughter and music. There were rock pools amid artfully constructed gardens, and heavenly scented flowers glowed in the velvety night.

He thought Isolt would be up on the main terrace where the elector was, with the aristocracy of Ostron Isle, but he found her alone by a pool. Pale flowers floated on its surface, barely disturbing the stars' reflection.

She wore something white and filmy, and her head-dress was threaded with zircons that glinted like stars in the black sable of her hair. She was so beautiful, she took his breath away. He should leave.

He meant to take one look and go but she gulped back a sob and wiped her fingers across her cheeks.

'What's wrong?'

'Oh, Fyn. What are you doing here?' She turned away from him and hastily wiped her face, turning back with a smile. 'I thought you were sleeping…' She frowned, putting it all together. 'You're leaving, aren't you? You're going to rescue your brother.'

He nodded. 'I'm sailing on the Wyvern's Whelp tomorrow. Don't tell the mage.'

'Of course not. Take me with you!'

There was nothing Fyn would have liked more.

Piro paced the terrace searching for Isolt. That stupid woman, the new Elector Cera, had told Isolt her father was very sick. Her friend had gone very pale and slipped away as soon as she could.

Now Piro couldn't see the kingsdaughter anywhere. Her heart missed a beat. What if Isolt had been kidnapped? Should she find Tyro in his mage's disguise, or keep looking for Isolt?

Piro leant her elbows on the balustrade and stared down into the lantern-lit gardens below. Was that Isolt's white gown by a rock pool? Was someone with her?

Trying to keep the location fixed in her head, Piro threaded her way down shallow steps, through arches, around fountains and winding streams. A night-bird sang its sweet mournful song. Piro rounded a bend in the path and saw Isolt and her companion through the fronds of palm trees. Even by starlight Piro recognised Fyn.

She was about to call out when she overheard Fyn speak.

'I can't, it's too dangerous.'

'I can help rescue Byren. After all, I am still Isolt Merofyn Kingsdaughter.'

'The guards would tell Palatyne and you'd end up his captive.'

'Not all the guards are loyal to him. Some are still loyal to my father. Besides, we'd be away before Palatyne discovers we've been into Port Mero.'

Fyn considered this. 'We'd have to tell Piro. She — '

'We can't tell her. She'd give us away.'

'Nonsense!'

'Oh, Fyn. You haven't been here. I've seen the way she and Tyro send each other secret looks.'

Fyn looked stunned. 'Piro's in love with the mage's agent? Are you sure? She doesn't seem to be in love to me.'

Isolt gave an odd little laugh. 'Men, what would they know about love? So, I'll pack a few things and meet you tomorrow. But how will I get away? I know. I'll wait in the grotto under the tower. Sail a boat around to me.'

'You would risk your life for Byren?'

Piro suspected Isolt was risking her life for Fyn.

But Isolt only nodded. 'It's decided then. I'll meet you in the grotto.'

Piro's first impulse was to tell them they were wrong. She was loyal. But it would mean disclosing why she and Tyro had been exchanging meaningful looks, and his secret was not hers to reveal. Sad at heart, she retreated.

On the terraces the celebrations continued, and Piro found Mage Tsulamyth hobbling around looking annoyed.

Seeing Piro, he beckoned. 'You don't join in the games and entertainment? A pretty young thing like you should have some fun.'

'One party is much like another. I'm no butterfly — '

'What are you then, Piro?' he asked, slipping into Tyro's voice.

She looked away. She had been Piro Rolen Kingsdaughter, expected to marry well for the sake of her family, but she had hated it. Ironically, in some ways she had been happiest as Lord Dunstany's slave. Then she recalled how Palatyne had claimed her for Isolt's slave and how Isolt was considered a prize for the victor… 'I wish I were a man!'

He laughed and her cheeks burned at his tone.

'Consider this, Piro,' Tyro said. 'Who taught you to speak three languages, heal and stitch a wound?'

'My mother. But it was a man who killed her.'

'True,' he acknowledged. 'In the Duelling Kingdoms game which piece is the most powerful?'

'The king.'

'No. The game is lost if the queen falls before her king does. But if the king falls, the queen fights on.' He smiled and slipped back into the mage's voice. 'Find Isolt. We have done our duty. We can leave now.'

Piro nodded. Should she tell Tyro about Fyn and Isolt's plans? She was sure he had plans of his own. But he still wore the amber soul-pendant around his neck.

If he did not trust her, she could not trust him.

The next morning, Piro looked up as Isolt bustled into the room to collect her basket of herbal remedies.

'Fyn's awake at last. I'm going to check on him.'

'I'll come with you.' Piro slipped off the bed. The foenix and wyvern padded after them.

Fyn looked up as they entered his chamber, his expression guarded.

Piro forced a smile. 'Feeling better?'

'A bit. I think I overdid it yesterday. My head's aching.'

'Hmm. Could be fever. You should stay in bed and rest today,' Isolt advised, just as Piro knew she would. Didn't they realise they couldn't fool a player like herself?

While Isolt mixed a tonic and something for Fyn's head, Piro sat on the windowseat with the foenix on her lap, stroking his soft feathers. She felt the moment he fell asleep, his body relaxing completely. If only Isolt and Fyn would trust her. If only she could tell them the truth about Tyro and the mage.

'There.' Isolt packed her things away. 'I'll tell the servants not to disturb you. Come on, Piro.'

She slid out from under the foenix, leaving him asleep in Fyn's room. Back in their chamber, Isolt went to the mirror to comb her long hair. She met Piro's eyes in the looking-glass. 'I've been neglecting Loyalty. I think I'll take her down to the grotto for a swim.'

'I know where you are going.'

Isolt's hand stilled for a second, then kept moving. 'You're welcome to come for a swim.'

'You're going with Fyn. He sails for Merofynia today.'

Isolt lowered the comb. 'Your Affinity told you?'

Piro let her think that. 'Tyro has plans — '

Isolt spun around. 'I know you like Tyro, but we can't trust the mage. Tsulamyth doesn't have to save Byren while he has Fyn in reserve.'

Piro's mouth went dry. They were right. One kingson was as good as another, as long as there was a legitimate heir for the people to rally behind.