The Scrivener s Tale - By Fiona McIntosh Page 0,16

... forgive me, I don't know what to call you. I have never known your name.'

The man smiled and it was as though new warmth filled the room. 'How remiss of me. My name is Fynch.'

'Brother Fynch,' Josse repeated the name, as though testing it on his tongue.

'Just Fynch,' his guest said mildly.

Josse took a breath. 'May I ask another question, er, Fynch?'

'By all means.'

'You were a friend of our great King Cailech.'

'I was.' He paused to smile in private memory. 'And of his queen, Valentyna,' Fynch added.

'Yes, indeed.' Josse hesitated, but then decided he had to clarify this or he would die wondering. 'Um, and yet I am in my winter years and you look like spring.'

They both chuckled at the metaphor.

'Looks can be deceiving, Brother Josse. I can assure you I am much older than you.'

'But - ' and something in the look Fynch gave him told Josse to leave it. There was no reprimand, no irritation in Fynch's expression, just a soft glance that seemed almost painful to behold, so Josse looked away and accepted that the mystery would always remain so. 'Well, you are an inspiration.'

Fynch smiled. 'I'm sure you would like to know why I'm here after all this time.'

Josse sat forward, placing his half-full cup of gleam on the small knobbly table that sat between them. He noticed Fynch's gleam was untouched. 'Yes, I would. I'm intrigued.'

'I need the aid of the Brotherhood.'

Josse looked surprised. 'But you know we are here only in the service of the Crown?'

'I do.' Fynch eyed him now and the golden glints in his eyes seemed to glow even brighter. 'Tell me about the man in the forest.'

'Cassien? Of all our men, why him?'

'Because you were asked to prepare him.'

Josse looked astonished. 'But those were secret instructions, from the desk of - '

'The royal chancellor. Yes, I know and I'm sorry for the stratagem. It would have prompted too many questions had I approached you directly on this matter when you took over as Head Brother.' Fynch gave a small shrug of a shoulder. 'I know it's confusing, Brother Josse. Tell me all you know about him. And then I'll tell you why he is so important to me.'

Josse sat back and took a deep breath. 'All right. Cassien came to us as an infant ... an orphan. His mother was a slattern.' He paused as Fynch smiled tightly at the polite word. Josse cleared his throat. 'She was nonetheless incredibly beautiful, and it was said rich men from far and wide would journey to see and partake of this woman's ... er ...'

'Services?' Fynch offered.

'Yes,' Josse agreed, relieved to discover that his guest was not stuffy about these things, even though he'd always thought of him as something of a holy man. 'She lived and worked in Pearlis, not far from the cathedral. She died neither young nor old - in her prime perhaps you might say, ravaged by a disease that no-one had any knowledge of, or cure for. It is believed the sickness was brought from across the oceans, and her body was burned as it frightened everyone so. Cassien knows none of this. He believes his mother died soon after childbirth. She gave him to us when he was little more than nine months. I have to say her attitude sounds cold, but I met her and she was a warm, laughing individual who wanted the best for her son, which she knew she could not give him. I never visited her. She accepted no money for him, asking only that she be allowed to glimpse him from time to time.'

'And did she?'

'Every moon until she died. We would take Cassien through the market and past a designated spot where she would be watching him from a close distance. I always felt sorry for her, even though she'd given her child away. There was only ever tenderness and love in that beautiful face of hers. I gave her my word that her son would never know.'

'The father?'

'According to her he was a traveller, a wastrel. She loved him, apparently. He was rarely home from what we learned. Again, I never met him.'

'There were brothers, weren't there?'

'An elder brother,' he corrected. 'I never saw him and I have no idea of his life.'

'Go on.'

'Well, the young Cassien charmed us all from his arrival. He was an agile, bright-eyed infant with great curiosity and the sharpest of minds. We all loved him. I