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Kirin continued, his tone now peppered with bafflement. ‘The thing is, Freath, what we’re pursuing now is more bloodshed. Is this what we want? Loethar has achieved what felt like the impossible all those years ago: peace, cohesion, dare I say harmony between not only the realms, including Droste, but also the Steppes people. We are truly part of an empire and are considered as such by kingdoms as far away as Percheron and Galinsea. We’ve had an envoy from Pearlis in Morgravia on behalf of the Triumvirate to lavish good wishes on Emperor Loethar’s rule and I’m sure its ally Tallinor would gladly support that if it could ever make such a massive journey. Seriously, Freath, our people are strong and protected and peaceful—’
‘If not happy,’ Freath interrupted sourly.
‘Who says they aren’t?’ Kirin countered. ‘You are not happy perhaps. And I may not be happy, and a very small band of rebels that we think might include a Valisar king are likely not happy. But think of the greater folk of our lands. They are content. Do you really think after what they’ve survived they care anymore who is on the throne? The fact is they live in peaceful, prosperous times and Loethar seems to have defied us all and got it right. I know I’m risking your fury saying this, but he’s a good ruler. He’s been frightening in the past but he’s fair and his touch is light and if not for the hideous empress, life could almost be considered sweet in the palace. Yes, he took his crown from a sea of blood but he’s made it up to the people of the Set ever since.’
‘Damn you, Kirin! Don’t you think I know it?’ Freath’s anger bubbled over. ‘I work alongside him every day. And every day I have to temper my admiration with memories of how he drove Queen Iselda to demand her own death, how he forced our king to suicide and let’s not forget how he roasted and ate Brennus in front of the queen and Piven. You conveniently forget he butchered thousands of good people on his way to claiming this throne, and—’
‘I haven’t forgotten!’ Kirin growled back at him. ‘I just don’t want to live through it again and that’s what your plotting is consigning us to. War again, when this realm and this Set has finally settled into peace. We want peace, Freath. Not more bloodshed.’
Freath waved a hand angrily. ‘Then go, Kirin. You are no use to me.’
‘I’m not sure I ever have been.’
Freath’s head snapped up. ‘How long have you felt like this?’ he asked, shocked.
Kirin shook his head, clearly angry with himself. ‘Why can’t we just accept life as it is? Why are we pursuing something that we know will provoke war?’
‘Because there’s a king out there,’ Freath all but hissed, his finger pointing beyond the window. ‘A rightful king whose throne has been usurped by an intruder. I gave my word to King Brennus that I would do everything in my power to work against Loethar and that somehow, someday I would help his son wrestle back his crown. I will not break that oath. I made it in blood.’ He raised his palm to Kirin to show the scar.
Kirin looked back at his companion of a decade and his sorrow was evident. ‘Look at us, Freath. Truly, what can we achieve? I have a talent but you’ve already seen what it does to me. I am near enough blind in one eye and a finger now twitches incessantly.’
Freath turned, indignant. ‘I haven’t asked you to use your magic once in the last—’
‘You’re missing the point. My powers, though strong, are limited by the weakness of my being just a man. It will destroy me faster than I’ll be able to help you—that’s what I fear. I know you’ve been sparing. But once this new fight begins, you will call upon me again and again,’ Kirin said wearily. ‘I would wreck my body gladly if I thought it could last.’
Freath waved a finger at his friend, hating this schism when he most needed Kirin’s loyalty. ‘Listen to me. You can leave now if you don’t want to be a part of this. Don’t go back to the palace, just disappear and be free. I’ll think of something to tell anyone who asks. But don’t expect me to do the same. I cannot—will not—relinquish my loyalty to the Valisars.’
Kirin nodded sadly. ‘Where is the army to come from, Freath, that will go up against Loethar? Where is the aegis that you believe will protect Leo? No amount of our searching has proved fruitful. What is the future for your new king when you have set off a fight that will lay this realm and others to waste?’
‘I don’t have the answers you want. I don’t have any answers! But I fear I cannot do this without you. I have no allies in the palace without you.’
‘Freath, we are pathetic.’
‘I know. But we have to try, don’t we?’
Kirin spun away, looking angry but also torn. Freath looked at the grey silvering Kirin’s hair. It was only a few strands but they had not been there a year ago. He’d watched the lines in the younger man’s face deepen; he’d witnessed wisdom and maturity replacing youth and energy in this man who could no longer be considered young at thirty-three anni. He wondered who Kirin would be had he been allowed to grow into his role at the Academy in Cremond, instead of facing the fear and bloodshed he had. He could wonder that for all of them, though. They would all be very different if their lives had not been scarred by Loethar’s marauding horde.
He couldn’t lose Kirin. Even though he had just urged his friend to leave, he would be devastated if Kirin walked away now. He had to find the right words to make his friend remain. He knew what to do.
‘I think you need some time. Don’t disappear, my friend. Instead, go and find Clovis for me. Get away from all of this. Who knows, perhaps you’ll find Piven.’ As he said it, Freath realised this plan was wise, far more sound than what he’d originally had in mind. ‘Meet the boy on safe territory somewhere. Get a feeling for who he is now. Work out a line of communication between us so that we can talk without revealing ourselves. And while you’re doing this, think about your role, Kirin. Consider how much I need you, how much the Valisar boys need every loyal soul we can muster.’
Kirin nodded. ‘I will take this time you’re offering. Ever since word came through about Piven I’ve felt excited and I’ve needed that after years of feeling hollow. But I don’t want to use Piven to win back a throne. I’ve realised my excitement is for the fact that he’s alive, not that he offers potential.’ Freath bit back the retort that threatened to fly from his mouth. ‘You follow Leo,’ Kirin continued. ‘I’ll find Clovis and we’ll take it from there.’
Freath didn’t know what to feel. He was glad that Kirin wasn’t deserting him entirely, but the separation felt bitter nonetheless. ‘When will you leave?’
Kirin shrugged. ‘Immediately. The note said Clovis was heading to Minton Woodlet. I’ll start there.’
‘What if he should send more news?’
‘He has no more pigeons. He would have used the one you gave Reuth all those years ago; he never had one of his own. I reckon with a horse and some money I can find him faster than he can try and re-open the lines of communication.’
Freath nodded reluctantly. ‘Money’s no problem. We’ll buy you a horse, though, from here. I don’t think you should take a palace beast, just in case.’ There was suddenly nothing more to say. ‘So you’ll leave, just like that?’
‘Freath,’ Kirin began gently, then sighed. ‘Yes. I promise I will get word to you somehow.’
‘Won’t you at least share a plate of Osh with me?’
Kirin gave a soft grin. ‘Do you always have to win?’
7 (#ulink_8145778a-0770-5d8b-af46-1745ce1fbbdf)
Greven dug his staff into the ground and hauled himself up the incline.
‘Are you all right?’ Piven asked over his shoulder.
‘Don’t worry about me, lad. I’m as strong as an ox.’
‘Well an ox, as strong as it is, would be stupid to climb this hill. I still don’t understand why we must.’
Greven gave a brief bitter laugh. ‘Because only fools would.’
‘There’s a perfectly good road below us.’
‘Perfectly good, yes. Also perfectly open, perfectly positioned for ambush, perfectly—’
Piven stopped and turned. ‘Ambush?’ he interrupted, his voice leaden with sarcasm.
Greven waved a hand. ‘Just pause a while. Let me catch my breath.’ He looked up to see the sun low in the sky. It was nearly time to think about an evening meal. ‘You must be famished. Let’s stop properly and eat something light. We can build a fire later and cook the rabbits we’ve brought.’
Piven unslung the water skin and offered it to Greven, who took it gratefully and drank a few mouthfuls. ‘Ah,’ he sighed with relief. ‘I suspect I owe you an explanation.’
‘I would agree with that,’ Piven replied, sitting down beside Greven. ‘What are you frightened of? What happened yesterday?’
Greven knew the boy deserved to know. And he felt safer now that they had put some distance between themselves and the interfering couple. ‘A man called Clovis and his wife, Reuth, came to see me. They are looking for you.’ As he spoke he delved into a small sack of food, pulling out a tiny loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese and some nuts.
‘Me?’
Despite the note of surprise in his tone, Greven sensed that Piven had already guessed as much. The boy’s perceptiveness was unnerving for one so young. ‘I suppose it was wishful thinking to imagine that anyone from the former royal family would be left entirely alone,’ Greven grumbled, more to himself. He placed a knife on the stump of a nearby tree that had obviously been felled a long time ago, its surface smooth enough now to act as a makeshift table.
‘They would do better to hunt Leo,’ Piven replied carefully.
Greven frowned. The boy was right. So why was he so frightened for Piven and, more to the point, of Piven and his powers? ‘They probably imagine that Leo is dead. And he could be, for all we know. But someone obviously suspects you’re alive and while you may not be blood, you are still valuable as a figure of hope to any pockets of loyalism.’
Piven shook his head. ‘It’s been ten anni!’
‘Some people have long memories, son.’
‘Do they know?’
Greven shook his head, understanding. ‘No one knows of your change but you and me. And no one should know, if we’re sensible.’
‘You want me to pretend to still be simple?’
‘I don’t know what I want. I just don’t want anyone to know about your true identity.’
‘But they still think I’m an imbecile.’
‘Imbecile? That’s a harsh word. From what I could tell, Piven, everyone thought of you simply as an invalid. But you’re right—they believe you to be older but exactly as you were when you were last at the palace. That’s our one advantage. I’m hoping we can lose ourselves among people, especially as we are now hard to pinpoint given your maturity and the fact that my leprosy has miraculously cleared.’
‘Don’t avoid the truth,’ Piven said, somewhat harshly. ‘It’s not a miracle. It’s magic.’
‘I know you’re one for honesty, Piven, but you’re never to speak of magic so openly again, do you hear?’
Piven scowled. ‘Why are you so scared of it?’
‘You could be killed for admitting you possess it, and let me assure you that being killed would be the easy let-off. I told you a long time ago that the barbarians were hunting down all Vested. I heard they rounded up quite a horde but I have no idea what happened to them. I suspect many were killed.’
‘And was Clovis one of those rounded up?’
Greven’s head snapped around. ‘You catch on quickly for someone who was an imbecile,’ he said, pointedly.
‘That’s because I never was one.’
Greven hadn’t expected an answer and he certainly hadn’t anticipated a response that would shock him. ‘Pardon?’ Piven smiled. Normally, Piven’s smiles were warm and bright but Greven glimpsed cunning in this one. It was gone quickly but he’d seen it and it felt unnerving. Once again he was reminded to strengthen his resolve against his urges. Were they being unwittingly whittled away by Piven’s power? Did the boy even understand it? ‘What do you mean, child?’
Piven shrugged. ‘I wasn’t mad. I was lost, just as you said. There’s a difference.’
Greven’s gaze narrowed. ‘We’ve never really talked about what happened, have we?’
‘We’ve never needed to,’ Piven said, pulling himself up by a tree branch. ‘We’ve always just been glad I turned out as I have.’
Greven didn’t move. He checked all the mental barriers he’d taught himself to erect. His mind was tight; no thoughts, no clues were leaking. ‘You’re right. It was as though Lo himself smiled upon you.’ Again he saw Piven’s lip curl slightly in a half smile, bordering on a smirk. ‘It was enough for me. Do you recall when I found you?’
‘Greven, why are we doing this?’
‘What?’
‘Talking about old times while perched on a hill that we are using to run away from the life we enjoyed.’
‘Do you know, you’ve said more in the last day than you’ve uttered in your lifetime?’
Piven shook his head. ‘I hate exaggeration.’
‘Perhaps you’ve forgotten how silent you were.’
‘You’re deliberately trying to upset me, I think.’
‘I love you, Piven. I would never deliberately do anything to upset you.’
‘Then stop probing me.’
‘Why?’
Piven kicked at a small rock. ‘Because I don’t want to answer lots of questions.’
‘Although it seems you have answers.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Look at me, boy,’ Greven demanded.
Piven sulkily met Greven’s eyes. ‘What?’
Greven could remember Lily being much like this when she had been around the same age as Piven. Sullenness and taking the opposite view of adults seemed to be the disposition of all youth. But he was certain there was something else between himself and his boy. ‘What’s eating at you?’ Greven asked, his tone as reasonable and as friendly as he could make it.
‘I’m just angry.’
‘Why?’
‘I liked where we lived.’ Piven shrugged. ‘I liked our life. I don’t see why strangers should send us on the run and I don’t see why I don’t have any say in it.’
Greven nodded. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry I didn’t consult you.’
Piven said nothing but Greven could see the boy’s jaw working furiously. He was angry, and had disguised it well until now. ‘Shall we talk about it?’ he tried.
‘Will it make any difference? Will it make you turn back?’
‘No.’
‘Then there’s no point in talking about it.’
‘Nevertheless, I think we should talk about those olden times you refer to.’
Piven gave a long sigh as though bored. ‘And if I don’t want to?’
‘Then let me talk.’
Piven nodded, although Greven sensed that the boy felt he didn’t have much choice.
‘I want to talk about your magic.’ He saw Piven’s jaw clench.
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t understand it. Apple?’ Greven held out the fruit he’d dug from his sack. ‘Help yourself.’
Piven picked up the small knife and cut off a chunk of the apple. He bit into the fruit as he replied, ‘What do you want to know?’
‘You told me a while back that you could wield this magic. But you’ve never said how long you’ve known you’ve had the skill.’
