Froi of the Exiles (36 page)

‘I agreed to the meeting and in one week’s time the envoy from the Provincaro will meet us at the top of this shaft with the promised protection. They will smuggle us out of the Citavita and into the centre of Charyn to collect my army. Then we will march back into the Citavita and claim the palace.’

Tariq looked around the cave. ‘And we say goodbye to my underground home.’

‘A solid home indeed,’ Froi said, impressed.

‘Mostly thanks to Gargarin’s plans.’

Tariq pointed into another room. ‘The privy. Gargarin’s idea, of course.’

‘Of course.’ Froi laughed for the first time in weeks. ‘He does have his obsessions, doesn’t he?’

Froi followed Tariq into a cluster of small caverns.

‘The hospital,’ Tariq said. ‘Can I introduce you to my cousin?’ he asked quietly. ‘She has had an ailment of the heart for some time now. Nurse says death will take place in the days to come, so we all pray that she will soon be at peace with those who’ve passed before us.’

Her name was Ariel. She would have been a pretty girl. Her cheek dimpled the moment she saw her younger cousin and she patted her bed for Tariq to sit.

‘I have heard the strangest story of a wild rescue in the Citavita,’ she said, fighting for every breath, looking beyond Tariq to Froi. ‘I think Cousin Ortense is giddy for our visitor.’

She held out a hand and Froi took it.

‘And the Princess?’ she asked.

‘She has a strangely strong … spirit,’ Froi said.

‘Or two,’ Tariq added, and he looked at Froi sheepishly. ‘Did it take you long getting used to?’

Froi shook his head. He realised that nothing about Quintana of Charyn took long to get used to except the idea of leaving her behind.

‘Will she visit?’ Ariel asked, and Froi heard the tiredness in her voice. ‘I dreamt of her not so long ago. I told her in my dream that if I had one wish it would be to die with hope and not with such despair for this kingdom. I told her that I dreamed of entering the other life with a smile to greet them all. “Good news!” I’d shout. “Good news for you all.” ’

‘She’ll like that dream,’ Froi said, a sadness overwhelming him that goodness died when baseness lived.

‘We will go collect her, Ariel,’ Tariq said, on his feet in an instant. ‘And tonight we will dine, all of us, together here with you, my love.’

Tariq seemed to hasten his step out of the room and Froi watched the heir stop and lean his head against the stone wall. He knew the lad wept for Ariel and he stood back to give Tariq the time he required to collect himself. Then he followed him through a tunnel to a set of stairs that led them down into another cavern.

Froi felt the cold instantly and realised he was in some sort of crypt. There were two slabs of stone in the middle of the room, one with a body wrapped in white from head to foot.

‘It’s a Lascow tradition for the dead,’ Tariq explained. ‘We lost one of our elders two days past. This is what we will do for Ariel. Wrap her in white linens and call her name out for the gods to receive her. Then we will send her down the underground river and set the raft alight so the gods can see her and lead her spirit towards our people in the Lascow Mountains. Only then can they be sung home to our ancestors.’

Froi nodded, touched by the ritual.

‘Is that how they do things where you come from?’ Tariq asked.

Froi shook his head. ‘It’s important for the Lumaterans to be part of the earth. The earth is the goddess so by being buried at death, we’re returned into her arms.’

‘Buried?’ Tariq shuddered, but then realised what Froi had said. The heir stared. Intrigued.

‘And what is a Lumateran doing in these parts?’ he asked. ‘I would think you hate us for what was done to your people at the hands of our men.’

Froi didn’t respond. He cursed himself for the words he had said, but there was something about Tariq that put him at ease.

‘When I’m in the palace, Froi, and all is calm in Charyn, my first duty to this land will be to issue an invitation for peace to your queen and her consort,’ Tariq promised. ‘The despair of Lumatere is a stain on a Charynite’s soul.’

‘And when that time comes,’ Froi said, ‘I will do anything to ensure your safety within my kingdom.’

Later, they ate with Quintana and Ariel, and Froi watched the two girls sitting side by side. Quintana had spoken little, her eyes fixed on Froi at every moment. If he stood, she’d stand as well, as though waiting to follow him wherever he went.

Froi watched Ariel take Quintana’s hand and Quintana pull away. It made him wince to see how cold she was in their presence when Ariel wanted comfort in her dying days. But then Quintana bent and whispered into the dying girl’s ear and he saw an expression of pure joy on Ariel’s face.

Froi felt Tariq’s eyes on him, wary. Suspicious.

‘You were staring,’ Tariq said. ‘Perhaps at Ariel. She’s beautiful, is she not?’

Froi nodded, but Tariq was no fool and he looked towards Quintana.

‘She was my first, the Princess was,’ Tariq said. ‘The breaking of the curse was to begin with us, for we were born in the same year. She’s the only girl I’ve ever laid with. We were frightened beyond anything and had no idea what to do. Do you know who we had to ask?’

‘Lirah?’ Froi asked.

‘No. She was imprisoned and I was never to meet her.’ Tariq leaned forward to whisper. ‘Did you become acquainted with Aunt Mawfa?’

‘Yes,’ Froi said sadly. ‘Yes, I did.’

'I think our Aunt Mawfa was a wildcat in her days,’ Tariq said. Froi laughed.

‘Did she die easily?’ Tariq asked quietly.

‘Yes,’ Froi lied, abruptly getting to his feet. Talk of Lady Mawfa and Tariq and Quintana’s first time together was making him uneasy.

‘I need to go.’

Tariq looked dismayed. ‘Have I offended you in some way?’

Froi looked over to where Quintana was still whispering to Ariel. When he turned back to Tariq the other lad’s expression darkened.

‘I can take care of her, you know,’ Tariq said stiffly. Then his face softened and he grimaced. ‘We both … Quintana and I … we both agreed that we would do everything for Charyn. We are fated to be together.
Those born last will make the first
.’

‘But Charyn has done little for both of you,’ Froi said harshly.

‘Some of us weren’t born for rewards, Froi. We were born for sacrifices.’

'I’ll not say my goodbyes,’ Froi said, walking away. ‘It might be best that I leave without ceremony.’

‘You saved her life,’ Tariq said to Froi’s retreating back. ‘Charyn may forget that one day, but I won’t.’

He got as far as the end of the tunnel of speckled light.

‘Froi!’ he heard her cry. Froi turned to see Tariq gripping her hand, and Quintana pulling away.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

He continued his way to the docked raft and began to untie the rope. She reached him.

‘Please, Froi. Only you can take care of us,’ she wept. ‘Only you.’

She held onto him and he tried to push her away gently, tried to get onto the raft, half-lifting her back on the landing.

‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Please stay and protect us.’

‘You have an army coming, Quintana. Tariq doesn’t need me.’

‘But we need you, Froi. Not Tariq. We need you.’

Froi sighed, pushing her gently away again. ‘Tariq!’ he called out. But she tried to climb on board again, almost toppling into the water as she wept.

‘Let us come with you, Froi. Please.’

Tariq reached them and tried to remove her from Froi, but Quintana held on fast, sobbing,
‘Please, please,’
over and over again.

‘Quintana, you’ll hurt yourself,’ Tariq said when she tried to board the raft a third time. ‘You’ll not survive a moment in the capital.’

‘He’ll protect us. He’ll make sure nothing happens to us.’

She managed to cling onto Froi, her arms clasped around him.

‘Can we have a moment, Your Majesty?’ Froi asked Tariq, his heart hammering hard at what he was about to do. Tariq was hesitant, but then stepped away.

Froi pulled free of Quintana, grabbing both her arms to shake her hard.

‘Listen and listen well, Princess,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘I was sent to assassinate you. Do you hear me? By the Lumaterans who despise you. I was sent to snap your neck and put this kingdom and mine out of their misery.’

She recoiled and Froi knew he would take this moment’s expression to his death.

Quintana stepped back onto the landing, and her legs buckled. Froi reached to catch her, but Tariq was there, picking her up in his arms.

‘Go,’ Tariq said. ‘On my word, I promise that I will not let anything happen to her. Go.’

T
he Belegonian Ambassador had outstayed his welcome. Finnikin knew it. Everyone in the room, including the Ambassador’s own scribe and guard, knew it. It had been too long a day with little compromise. No, the Lumaterans could not send fleece down the river through Belegonia to Yutlind. Belegonia now had a strong market selling their own fleece to wool merchants in Yutlind and Osteria. Did they not have the right during Lumatere’s curse to breed their own sheep for such purpose? And no, Lumatere should not expect the Belegonians to buy their ore when the kingdom of Sorel was selling it for half the price. Then there was the subject of Charyn. Belegonian conversation always came back to the subject of Charyn.

‘I will repeat this one more time, Your Majesty,’ the Belegonian Ambassador said. ‘My king is urging you to take up this opportunity. It’s what Lumatere has been waiting for.’

‘Do not presume to tell me what we’ve been waiting for, Sir,’ Isaboe said sharply.

‘The Charynite capital is in anarchy,’ the Belegonian Ambassador said. ‘The Osterians and Sarnaks have armies in place with our Belegonian soldiers standing by their side, ready to enter at any moment.’

‘The last I heard, one does not invade merely because another kingdom’s capital is in anarchy,’ Finnikin said from the window overlooking the garden where he could see Vestie of the Flatlands and Jasmina playing blindman’s bluff with Moss, who was guarding them.

He turned back and saw the Belegonians exchange looks. They were going to change tack. He was certain they were going to mention Sorel. They always used that kingdom as a threat in their negotiations. Finnikin tried to catch his wife’s eye.

‘The Sorellians will take advantage of this,’ the Belegonian Ambassador said.

‘You know this for certain, do you?’ she asked.

‘No, but our spies tell us that Sorel has been in constant discussion with those on Avanosh Island, who have claimed for hundreds of years that the Charyn throne was once theirs. The heir of Avanosh could be what the Charynite people want.’

Isaboe looked to Sir Topher. ‘Why would these people of Avanosh be what the Charynites want?’ she asked.

‘Because –’ the Belegonian Ambassador went to answer, but Isaboe held up a hand to stop him. Finnikin was used to the hand. The hand was held up at times when Jasmina tried to argue about what to wear on certain days, and the hand came into play when Finnikin tried to insist that Isaboe had no idea how to win a game of Kings and Queens fairly. His wife’s hand was mightier than a sword.

‘Because Avanosh is neutral,’ Sir Topher explained. ‘During times such as this a neutral leader will prevent Charyn’s Provincari from going to war with each other if one tries to take the throne.’

Isaboe stood and walked to Finnikin by the window. She leaned against him, so unlike her when they were surrounded by foreigners. He reached out a hand and kneaded her shoulder. As much as he wasn’t allowed to say she looked tired in front of others because,
No one walks around saying that men and kings look tired, Finnikin,
he wanted to say the words all the same. Isaboe, you look tired. Isaboe, you work too hard. Isaboe, you can’t solve everyone’s problems. Isaboe, you are not responsible for the happiness of every person you meet.

‘Then why not leave the Charynites to be ruled by the Avanosh lot who will keep their people from going to war?’ Finnikin suggested.

The Belegonian Ambassador shook his head emphatically.

‘If the Avanosh heir ends up in the palace, the kingdom of Sorel will play a role in the running of Charyn,’ the Ambassador said. ‘We don’t want that.’

‘But you have absolutely no qualms buying Sorellian ore when they are undercutting an ally of yours?’ Isaboe asked sharply.

The Belegonian grimaced. ‘You are misunderstanding the matter, Your Majesty.’

‘I don’t miss matters, Sir,’ she snapped. ‘I can’t afford to miss matters. Each time a Queen or King in this land misses a matter
many
people die. So I would advise you to think carefully of your words.’

‘Sorel and Charyn have been thorns in our side since the beginning of time,’ the Ambassador said. ‘Nothing can be worse news than if they unite.’

‘Not a thorn in your side, Sir Osver,’ she said, her tone so frigid Finnikin hardly recognised it. ‘Not a thorn in the side of Belegonia. Perhaps the kingdoms of Osteria and Lumatere and Sarnak, but you share no border with the Charynites. Yet you stand to gain much if they are forced to surrender to these joint armies you have in place.’

Finnikin watched his daughter below look up from her play, straight to their window. He moved Isaboe aside. If Jasmina saw them now, they would be ending one series of negotiations and entering another. At least they had a chance of winning against the Belegonians, but Jasmina was another matter.

He watched as his father rode into the garden on his stallion. Vestie and Jasmina ran to him with excitement and Moss lifted them, seating Vestie behind Trevanion and Jasmina in his lap. Trevanion proceeded to canter around the garden while both girls chortled with joy. It made Finnikin smile to see them. Who would ever have thought that Trevanion would be softened by two little girls?

But Finnikin’s attention was brought back to the Belegonian Ambassador.

‘The Charynites murdered your family! The Sorellians imprisoned your captain. The father of your consort. Take this opportunity, Your Highness.’

Finnikin could see Isaboe was speechless with fury at the mention of her family’s death.