The King's Bastard - By Rowena Cory Daniells Page 0,44
as useful to father or Lence, but -'
'So you see, tomorrow I must be first across the lake, first to find Halcyon's Fate, but only someone with great Affinity can find it and I'm... I barely registered when they tested me. I don't know what I'll do.' Desperation lent an edge to his voice.
Impulsively, Piro clutched his arm. 'You'll do it, Fyn, I know you will!'
He gave her a smile that said he appreciated her faith in him, even if it was misplaced.
Piro saw that she had to help him. For the first time since she'd developed Affinity she was glad she had it.
'Don't worry.' She squeezed his arm. 'Everything will turn out right tomorrow. Trust me.'
'Thanks, Piro.' He patted her hand as if she was too young to understand.
She bristled. She would be fourteen on Midsummer's Day.
'We'd better get back,' Fyn announced.
Still fuming, she followed him down to the great hall. The leogryf had been hauled away to be stuffed and mounted, and would join the other animals in the trophy chamber where it would be honoured as one of Halcyon's beasts.
Meanwhile King Rolen was holding the usual midwinter hearing. Four times a year he opened his hall to give ordinary Rolencians a chance to have their grievances heard and settled. Usually it was farmers disputing over fields or merchants arguing over shoddy goods.
Lence sat beside their father, being trained to follow in his footsteps. Byren stood behind their mother's chair, one arm resting on the high back. Funny, she hadn't seen it before but that was the way they were. Despite what he'd said about the leogryf, she knew her father favoured Lence and her mother adored Byren. As for her and Fyn, they were only spare heirs. And sometimes Piro suspected her mother thought she was more trouble than she was worth.
'I'd better get back to the monks,' Fyn whispered. 'Don't tell anyone.'
'Of course not.'
He headed towards the ranks of the monks but Piro hesitated. She knew she should join her mother and listen to the hearing. As a kingsdaughter she had to learn the intricacies of Rolencian law. Her mother knew it better than her father. But it was so boring. She had never understood how people could get irate over a few gold coins, or a field of corn. Maybe she would just slip quietly away.
'Pirola Rolen Kingsdaughter,' her mother called. Everyone turned. Piro wished she could sink through the floor. 'Come sit beside me. Listen and learn.'
She dared not disobey.
Piro took her seat at her mother's side. In the cleared space before the dais an old man and a youth of about fifteen were confronted by one of Halcyon's monks, who wore the umber robe of a village Affinity warder.
'By King Rolen's decree it is against the law to hide Untamed Affinity,' the warder announced. Piro stiffened. 'And isn't it written that everyone with Affinity must serve the church or risk becoming a channel for evil?'
The crowd nodded.
'And yet this man,' he pointed to the old farmer, 'this man has tried to deny the abbey his son!'
As people muttered under their breath, Piro swallowed and glanced down, noting how her mother's hands had tightened on the chair, until her knuckles showed white.
King Rolen cleared his throat. 'Is this true, Farmer Overhill?'
The old man dropped to his knees. 'I swear, King Rolen, Queen Myrella, my son's Affinity did not show until this year. I did not know.'
'Mystics master?'
A thin man of no more than forty stepped out of the ranks of monks, surprising Piro. The old master must have died since she saw him at winter cusp. Piro had noticed this mystic before because of his malformed arm which was hidden inside his robe. His shaved head gleamed with intricate tattoos revealing that he had attained the highest level of knowledge. To have been chosen as mystics master at so young an age, he had to be very gifted and dedicated. Piro was glad his attention wasn't focused on her.
'Affinity usually shows up by the age of six but it can remain dormant until puberty or some crisis triggers it. The boy should be in training,' the mystics master said. He caught the abbot's eye.
The old abbot spoke up. 'He can come back with us when we leave.'
The farmer lifted his hands pleadingly. 'If I send my only surviving child to the abbey, who will run my farm? I am too old to do the heavy work!'