The King's Bastard - By Rowena Cory Daniells Page 0,68

been lying in wait for him. Catching the flash of a dark robe, he turned, his hands lifting defensively.

'Ahh, Fyn Kingson, I didn't mean to startle you.' History Master Hotpool beckoned him into the shadows. As a master, he wore a silver torque with one row of lapis lazuli. 'I hear the mystics master has offered your friend Feldspar a place. You must be pleased for him, but where does that leave you? This made me wonder why you hadn't come to ask me for a place.' Though he fixed Fyn with a fond, avuncular look, his eyes held a predatory gleam.

Fyn avoided his gaze. He had not gone to the history master because, though he had a genuine love of history, he did not like Hotpool. The master's smile did not reach his eyes and the monks who went into his service complained of favours they did not wish to give.

Fyn cleared his throat. 'Master Oakstand said he would offer me a place with the warrior monks, so I thought -'

'The weapons master?' Hotpool frowned. 'I would not have thought you were the type to favour brawn above brains, Fyn. Besides, I know you turned him down.' His eyes narrowed. 'Did you hope to pass over both and aim for a cleric's place? Four of the last ten abbots have been clerics. Is that your goal, to rule Halcyon's abbey since you can't rule Rolencia?'

'I am just a lowly acolyte,' Fyn said quickly, heart hammering with discomfort. 'I can only hope that in their wisdom, the masters select the right vocation for me.'

Before Hotpool could comment, he bowed and slipped away.

Knees shaking, Fyn cursed Piro. It was all her fault. If she hadn't interfered he might have found the Fate and then he would have been with the mystics master right now, safe from Master Hotpool and others like him.

Fyn headed for his brothers' chambers. Life was relatively simple for Piro, but she had certainly complicated his life.

Chapter Twelve

The queen and Seela pushed Piro out the door of the solarium, into the long corridor, with admonishments still ringing in her ears. For one tempting moment, she considered running to the stables and hiding in the hay loft. Last winter she might have done it, but with the arrival of her Affinity had come the realisation that she would have to grow up and face the world eventually.

Still, her feet dragged as she made her way along to the trophy chamber. She understood why her father chose to meet the warlord there. The room housed tributes collected by the royal family of Rolencia over the last three hundred years. There were great metal shields, decorated with beasts as fierce as the barbarian warlords who had once carried them.

Niches in the walls housed porcelain urns of rare oils from Ostron Isle and vases encrusted with semi-precious stones. Also from Ostron Isle came cedarwood furniture, carved so skilfully it seemed alive. Over the fireplace hung the Mirror of Insight. In all the years Piro had peered into it, it had never done anything but reflect the room's trophies and her own curious face.

There was a stuffed wyvern, though not as large as the ones which roamed the Royal grounds of Merofynia. The taxidermist had done a wonderful job, standing it on its rear legs so that it was taller than a man, mouth open to reveal razor-edged teeth. Its gleaming sapphire eyes were real jewels which winked with reflected light. Its short upper arms were raised to claw and its wings were extended to display their delicate membrane. It stood to one side of the oriel window which looked out over Rolencia.

On the other side was a stuffed foenix. This bird had roamed the menagerie back in her grandfather's time. It was taller than Piro. A crest of brilliant red feathers added another head and a half to its height. It was not as fierce-looking as the wyvern, though its beak was hard as metal and its chest was covered in scales as hard as armour, plus it had dangerous spurs on its legs. Like the wyvern, its eyes were real stones, emeralds.

If they did not find a mate for Piro's foenix, he would end up like this one and then the only foenixes people would ever see would be stuffed ones.

Piro stopped outside the carved oak door of the trophy chamber, heart hammering. Two pillars rose up to an arch over the door. Their decoration was the royal foenix, gold on