be able to stand up to four of Halcyon's monks!'
The other three had scrambled to their feet now and looked to Galestorm for guidance. Unlike hot-headed Galestorm, they were clearly not eager to tackle both the kingsons.
'Come on, Fyn.' Byren slung an arm around his brother's shoulders and deliberately turned his back on the others.
His neck tingled as they walked off. Were these monks cowardly enough, not to mention foolish enough, to attack them? But Galestorm and his companions must have thought better of it for Byren and Fyn made it safely out of the Three Swans' lane.
Fyn turned to face Byren, shrugging off his arm. 'Thank you for helping me, but -'
'Now they'll come after you when I'm not around, I know,' he muttered. 'Not much I can do about that, I'm afraid. Don't get caught alone. Stay with your friends. That Lonepine looks like he could handle himself.'
'Feldspar might be the mystical type but he can handle himself too,' Fyn insisted.
Byren studied Fyn.
'What is it?' Fyn asked.
'I got the impression that this is not the first time Galestorm and his bullies have picked on you. Why didn't you say something? And why do they dare to bully a kingson?'
Fyn sighed. 'At the abbey I am just Fyn. We're supposed to leave our past lives behind, especially once we take our monk's vows. The abbey has great ideals but reality is different. In a place where all are equal in the goddess's sight, the masters vie for power. The abbot is chosen from their ranks and to be abbot is to rule all of Halcyon's abbeys and oversee the distribution of the goddess's wealth. He is only one step less powerful than father.'
Byren rubbed his chin, he hadn't considered it that way. 'But you're still a kingson. Why do they dare -'
'That's the problem. Galestorm knows my birth will help me rise to become the master of whatever branch I enter and he resents me for it. Besides, I caught him tormenting a grucrane and now they've flown off, leaving our abbey without its sentries.'
'They'll come back. Where else will they sleep these cold winter nights?' Byren rubbed his brother's shaven head. Fyn had lost his cap in the scuffle, revealing his crown of tattoos. Soon they would shave off the thin plait that grew from the top of his head and begin the first of his monk tattoos, above and between his acolyte tattoos. On that day he would become the lowest of the monks. Byren summoned a smile. 'I'm the lucky one. I don't envy you or Lence. Now come up to Rolenhold and share a drink with me. An acolyte who's nearly a monk can still enjoy a fine Rolencian red, can't he?'
Fyn grinned. 'I can and I will. But first there's something I must do.'
'Yes. You'd better warn your friend to watch out for Galestorm.'
Fyn hesitated for an instant. 'Exactly. See you later, Byren.'
As he watched his younger brother forge through the crowded square Byren wondered what Fyn was really up to, then dismissed it. He had to get back to the castle and find Piro. And when he found her, he was going to give her a piece of his mind. It was time she grew up!
Piro climbed down from the minstrels' cart with a word of thanks, then slipped away through the servants' courtyard. She was not looking forward to apologising to Fyn or her mother. Then she remembered she hadn't fed her foenix yet, so she went to the kitchens.
Three summers ago Byren and Lence had tried to trap a foenix which had been ravaging the high farms on the Dividing Mountains. The birds were very rare now and their father wanted to capture a pair for the royal menagerie , but this foenix had turned vicious to protect its nest. Byren had brought the two eggs back to Rolenhold and Piro had kept them warm, turning them every day, but only one had hatched. Now her foenix was as big as a large chicken, though his legs were longer in proportion to his body. He had yet to develop the crest and beak sharp as a dagger, but he did have the brilliant red feathers as fine as fur, and the gleaming red chest scales. Because foenixes liked heat she kept him in the menagerie which was glassed over, and warmed by hot vents from the pools far below the castle. King Byren the Fourth had built it before the wars