was the original Cobalt House symbol, the silver dalfino, a winged, warm-blooded fish. In the upper corner was the inverted crown, added when King Byren the Fourth's bastard married into Cobalt House.
'You, sir.' The injured man fixed on Byren, who stood a head taller than everyone else. He spoke Rolencian with a slight accent and his voice carried despite the din in the courtyard. 'Direct me to the king.'
'Who wants me?' King Rolen turned.
Orrade leant close to Byren to mutter in his ear. 'Who is that? I feel I should know him.'
The man dismounted gracefully, handing his reins to Byren, who accepted them without protest. Dressed in his stained travelling clothes Byren could easily be mistaken for one of his father's men-at-arms. Lence sent him a rueful look, one corner of his mouth lifting. Byren grinned and beckoned a stunned stable boy, who ran over and took the reins, apologising profusely. All around them the new arrivals were dismounting and handing over their reins as the stable lads took the horses away.
The general hubbub died down and everyone gathered to hear what the stranger had to say.
'King Rolen.' Even with one arm in a sling, the man managed to give an elaborate bow, reminding Byren of the Ostronite ambassador. That helped him place the accent. One thing was certain, the mannered style of clothes the stranger affected would not catch on at court. You'd never see Byren wearing a coat with shoulder pads, a nipped-in waist and lace at the cuffs and throat.
'My king.' The injured man straightened up, standing almost as tall as King Rolen. That was when Byren saw the resemblance. 'I have come to swear fealty and to demand justice.'
'Justice?' the king repeated with a frown, then it cleared. 'Why, you're young Illien, Spurnan's boy!'
His cousin, Illien? Byren stiffened. Illien's father, Spurnan, was King Byren the Fourth's bastard son by a travelling minstrel he'd bedded when he was only sixteen. The boy had been fostered out to Lord Cobalt, who'd married him to his daughter. After the old lord died, King Byren's bastard had inherited the Cobalt title and estates. Had he been legitimate, Spurnan would have been king, not Rolen, which would have made Illien kingsheir, not Lence. It had never meant anything to Byren when he was a boy. He'd adored Illien because, in those days, his cousin was everything a warrior should have been.
Now Byren studied Illien's face, trying to find the youth he used to admire in this elegant foppish man. He'd been seven and Illien twenty-two, when the old Lord Cobalt had sent Illien to Ostron Isle. There'd been an argument, something the adults never mentioned in front of the seven-year-old twins. As far as Byren knew Illien and his father had not reconciled.
'Weren't you living on Ostron Isle these thirteen years?' King Rolen asked, although their ambassador to Ostron Isle would have kept him informed.
'Yes,' Illien said, unabashed by the reference to the argument with his father. 'I've been serving my family's interests on Ostron Isle but, just this last summer, I swallowed my pride and contacted father because I was marrying into one of the great Ostronite merchant families and I wanted his blessing. Five days ago, I came home so that he could meet my bride when...' His voice wavered and he shook his head, face flushing with deep emotion, unable to go on.
Byren's throat tightened in sympathy.
'Raiders, my king,' a grizzled warrior in Cobalt-blue explained, one hand going to the injured man's shoulder. 'Old Lord Cobalt came to meet my master's ship when -'
'Raiders attacked us!' Illien ground out.
'Utland raiders dared to sail into the Lesser Sea?' King Rolen demanded. 'They haven't done that for twenty years!'
'Is that how you were injured, lad?' Captain Temor nodded to the sling.
'Yes, captain. And I am Lord Cobalt now.' He gave the slightest of bows, a dip of the head as befitted a lord addressing an old and respected man-at-arms. 'My father is dead.'
'Spurnan's dead?' King Rolen muttered. He stared hard into the middle distance, then shook himself. 'That leaves only the Old Dove.'
Garrade of Dovecote and Spurnan of Cobalt had stood by Byren's father, when he had come into the kingship. He'd only been eighteen and it had looked like Merofynia would crush Rolencia, which was still reeling from the attempt by the Servants of Palos to usurp the throne in Spurnan's name. The bastard had sworn he was not involved and his subsequent support of Rolen had proven his