The King Rolen's Kin: The Uncrowned King - By Rowena Cory Daniells Page 0,3

power tattooed onto his forehead, and the fetishes woven into his matted hair.

'I was right, it's -' The Utland Power-worker broke off, seeing the Affinity beasts. He'd been speaking Merofynian but Byren had no trouble understanding him, thanks to his mother's patient tutoring.

With a happy, inarticulate cry the boy ran down into the hollow, only to have the keeper jerk so hard on the chain that his legs went out from under him and he sprawled in the snow, gasping, hands going to the metal collar.

Byren winced in sympathy.

Both birds gave cry and leapt into the air, just as half a dozen Merofynian warriors came over the far lip of the rise. The men stood stunned. The boy scrambled to his feet, panting.

Due to their size the birds had to work their broad wings furiously to gain height, creating great downdraughts of air, which stirred up the fine, powdery snow.

'Stop them!' the Utland Power-worker screamed. He swore, beside himself with frustration as the men fumbled to remove their gloves and string their bows. 'No. Not like that, you fools. The calandrius is worth a fortune alive -'

Thud, thud.

Two arrows struck home.

Both labouring birds cried out in distress and dropped into the seep. The boy fell to his knees in the snow with a wail of distress. The Utlander ignored the child's weeping and, after thrusting the boy's chain into the hands of the nearest man, he ploughed down the slope.

Several of the warriors made the Merofynian sign to ward off evil, though whether they were afraid of the seep or their own Power-worker's anger, Byren could not tell.

The Utlander tore off his cloak and threw it over the calandrius, which had come to its feet and was trying to creep away with a broken wing. It gave a mournful cry of protest when he swept it up in his arms.

Staggering a little with the weight, he turned to face his escort. 'You're lucky it's still alive. Come here and take it. Bring my pack, I need my sorbt stones.'

Byren tensed. He did not want to see the power of the seep fall into enemy hands.

There was some confusion as three men slithered down into the hollow, reluctantly joining the Utlander in the centre of the seep. One took the calandrius, and another went to remove the other wounded bird. The third held the boy's chain and the Power-worker's pack. The boy edged nearer the birds, eyes fixed on them. Illuminated by the bright starlight, Byren could see tear tracks glistening on the lad's grimy cheeks.

'Wait. Is the hercinia dead?' The Power-worker checked.

He must have found signs of life for he wrung the bird's neck with callous efficiency, eliciting a whimper of protest from the boy.

'Stop your moaning, brat.' He nodded to one of the warriors. 'Pluck its feathers. That's all it's good for. And don't pinch a single one. I'll know.'

'What about the body?' the man who held the hercinia asked. 'Seems a waste not to eat such a plump -'

'You're right.' The Power-worker made several signs over the bird, muttering under his breath. Byren guessed he was settling the bird's Affinity, which had been released on its death. But the signs were nothing like the ones the castle's Affinity warders used. 'There, it's safe to eat. Make camp over the rise.'

'So near the seep?' the one with the calandrius whined.

'Yes, so near. I still have to drain the seep's power. Now get going.'

The two carrying the birds retreated up the slope, while the third unslung a pack from his shoulder and opened the buckle so the Power-worker could rummage through.

'What of the brat?' he asked.

'Give her a bit of the bird's white meat as a reward. But keep an eye on her, she's just as likely to try to sneak back to roll in the seep. Little savage,' the Power-worker muttered. Byren thought this was a bit rich, coming from a renegade from the uncivilised Utland isles, and he felt sorry for the girl, who he'd taken for a boy. 'Keep an eye on her. Once I set up the active sorbt stone it will drain power from anything, including her.'

'How long will this take?'

'As long as it has to. I'm not leaving a seep for Rolencia's sanctimonious monks to hoard.' He untied some cloth to reveal two stones, carved so that they slotted together like lovers. 'This isn't a large seep. Should be done by morning.' He noticed the man's expression. 'Don't worry, we'll catch up with the