Froi of the Exiles (55 page)

‘You’re easy to rile, Lumateran,’ she said.

And there it was. He was no longer referred to as the assassin, so Lumateran would have to do. And he realised that despite the fact that he wanted to toss Arjuro from his mount, and give a sermon on all things wondrous about Lumatere; despite his wish to attempt a mock raid on Paladozza to prove how stupid they truly were; despite wanting to lecture them on the appreciation Isaboe and Finnikin had for all things artistic, what Froi wanted to do above all else was kiss Quintana.

‘Little Serker shit, we’re speaking to you,’ Arjuro called out.

‘
Sagra!
’

Quintana turned again and he saw the ghost of a smile on her face as he counted to ten, his mouth clenched with fury.

‘I resent that you persist in labelling him a Serker shit and not a shit from Abroi,’ Lirah said coolly.

‘Thought you didn’t care about Serker, Lirah,’ Arjuro mocked.

She shot him a malicious smile.

‘You know what I think, Arjuro?’ she said. ‘I think you have suddenly come to life because De Lancey is beyond those poplar trees and you will always be a panting boy when it comes to Paladozza’s handsome Provincaro.’

Arjuro was furiously silent after that.

Gargarin did what Gargarin did best and sighed. ‘I’m begging you all to allow me at least one night’s rest in Paladozza before De Lancey has us forcibly removed.’

Froi fell in love. He didn’t want to. Not with a Charyn city. But he did because people didn’t stand around in Paladozza and stare suspiciously, they sat around and spoke to each other and laughed. Because at the entrance to the city, they had a town square called the vicinata where the people of Paladozza would take a stroll at night or watch performances or set up market stalls where merchants sold sweet tea and pastries and let Froi and Quintana taste at least five before handing over a coin. Because it was the first time he saw Lirah animated with a stranger as she spoke to an artist about his paintings. Because Gargarin and Arjuro had their heads together over books in a stand. Because for once in Froi’s life everything felt in place.

Similar to the Citavita, the road that ran alongside the entrance to the city was steep, but not as narrow. Unlike the Citavita, the stalls that lined the road were not selling goods for survival, but trinkets and beautifully crafted daggers and swords and fabrics full of colour. When they reached the top where the Provincaro’s residence was built, there was a small piazza where soft-furred hounds were for sale. Close by, a fountain belched out water with great force.

Froi kept an eye on Quintana, who seemed to gravitate towards the hounds, her eyes begging Gargarin for one of their young.

‘No!’ Gargarin said.

Who would have thought their savage cat was soft for puppies?

It made Froi smile, despite the fact that arrows had been pointed at him from the moment they arrived. Gargarin stood beside him looking straight up to where a group of De Lancey’s men were hiding.

‘You were mocking me,’ Froi said.

‘Not quite,’ Gargarin chuckled. ‘One doesn’t exactly have to have a wall surrounding them to be a firm believer in protection. The city is trained to go to ground within minutes of an army approaching. They’ve had drills ever since I can remember.’

Froi was irritated.

‘So how observant are you?’ Gargarin asked.

‘Very. It’s what I’m trained to be.’ Froi paused and looked around, before exchanging a glance with Gargarin. ‘Four behind the first rock shrine we passed and two on the rooftops of the house with red gables. Another two on the balconette of the inn with the image of the boar on the front. They make as though they are playing cards, but they throw down their hand too quickly.’ He turned and pointed up to a grand house above the piazza. ‘Most are up there, at every level and every window. Probably De Lancey’s residence. There are at least six in this square.’

Gargarin nodded. His expression showed appreciation.

A moment later, Froi was flat on his face with four of De Lancey’s Guard searching him.

‘It seems they still haven’t got over the incident in the godshouse hallway,’ Arjuro said, crouching to his level. Quintana was there as well.

The guards dragged Froi to his feet and wordlessly removed his short sword from its scabbard on his back and the daggers from his sleeves.

‘What did you do to them in the godshouse hallway?’ Quintana asked. The guards didn’t seem interested in the others and Froi knew this was personal.

‘He showed them a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat,’ Lirah said. ‘Just before he stood on the piece of granite over the gravina and bargained for Gargarin’s life. While they stood around looking stupid.’ She was angry. ‘He’s bleeding, you fools.’

‘Bargained with what?’ Quintana asked.

‘A ruby ring given to him by his queen,’ Arjuro said as De Lancey’s men shoved Froi forward towards a narrow path that led them to an even higher level of the city.

‘Your queen gave you a ruby ring?’ he heard Quintana ask coldly.

Froi grabbed her hand and gently placed her between himself and one of the Guard. She twisted away, almost breaking his fingers. De Lancey’s men allowed her to step away.

‘You’re leaving her unprotected, you fools,’ Froi said. He shoved away from them and grabbed Quintana roughly by the wrist, pulling her back into the confines of his protection.

‘Now you can pretend you have some control over this situation,’ he told the men pleasantly, only too aware that the true danger lay in Quintana’s fury.

‘Is that what she bribed you with to assassinate me?’ she asked, trying to pull away. This time the guards had the good sense to keep her close.

‘I thought we were finished with the talk of assassination,’ Froi said, his voice weary.

‘Is she your lover?’ she demanded.

They reached a gate and walked into a courtyard with more guards. Surrounding them was a cluster of pristine white dwellings. De Lancey came out onto the balcony of the largest dwelling, holding a lantern in his hand. He stared down at them with irritated dismay.

Grijio’s head appeared beside his father’s. Then they both disappeared and it was a few minutes before they walked out into the courtyard. As usual, De Lancey was impeccably dressed in loose white trousers and a cambric shirt. De Lancey embraced Gargarin and barely acknowledged the rest except for Quintana. His eyes went straight to her belly.

‘Is it true?’ he asked gently.

‘True indeed,’ Gargarin said.

Grijio let out a breath that he seemed to have been holding.

Gargarin grabbed two of De Lancey’s men by the back of their necks and forced them to face Froi. ‘He protects the Princess and you protect him. Does that sound like an order?’

There was nothing sinister about the mood between the Provincaro and his men and they walked away.

‘My swords!’ Froi called out. One of the guards returned his weapons, taking a moment to study the craftsmanship of the short sword.

‘I’ll let you play with it if you’re nice,’ Froi mocked.

It was tense after the guard left. Grijio dared to break the silence, but he chose the wrong person to address.

‘How long has it been, Sir, since you returned to Paladozza?’ he asked Arjuro politely.

‘Nineteen years.’

‘Why so long, Sir?’

‘Because the memory of a farrier whose head was sliced clean from his body kept me away,’ he snarled.

Froi saw De Lancey freeze and Grijio flinch. A look of great pain and remorse passed between father and son. Had they spoken of the part De Lancey played in an innocent man’s death?

‘Come inside,’ De Lancey muttered to Gargarin. ‘I don’t want to kill him in front of my people. They’re not used to the sight of blood.’

They followed De Lancey and Grijio up a flight of stairs that took them into a hall, overwhelming in its beauty. Frescoes of every creation story Froi had ever heard from this land and those of the lands said to be across the great oceans adorned the wall. He even recognised that of Lumatere’s, a luminous goddess emerging from the earth.

De Lancey took them to a dining room where a long table was set up for three.

‘Another five places, Jatta,’ he called out.

There was silent awkwardness again and Grijio held out a hand to Quintana.

‘Would you like to see the songbirds I once wrote to you about?’ he asked.

She hesitated, looking around the room, squinting.

‘Perhaps you can bring the cage in here, Grij?’ De Lancey said.

‘You’ll love them,’ Grijio promised, running out of the room.

De Lancey removed five glasses from a tray. ‘My son –’

‘His son,’ Arjuro mocked under his breath.

De Lancey stared at him, decanter in hand.

‘And what is that supposed to mean?’ De Lancey asked.

Gargarin stood and limped towards the Provincaro. ‘Perhaps I should take over here, De Lancey.’

‘No. I want to know what he meant by that,’ De Lancey said.

Froi stared at Arjuro. He looked so strange and out of place with his dark robes in this pristine room.

‘Your boy out there?’ Arjuro shook his head with disbelief. ‘You disappoint me, De Lancey. We always mocked those fools of men who needed young flesh beneath their body to make them feel powerful.’

Gargarin removed the decanter of wine from De Lancey’s hand.

‘How dare you? My son –’

‘
Your son
? You have no son,’ Arjuro shouted. ‘Why the pretence? Eighteen years ago, you had no bride. Yet you have a young lover –’

Gargarin wasn’t quick enough to save the glasses. De Lancey dived across the table and grabbed Arjuro around the throat just as the glass hit the ground and shattered. It took Froi and De Lancey’s men and even Lirah and Jatta the serving woman to pull them apart.

Grijio raced in holding a cage of lovebirds, only to see his father being held back.

‘What did he say to rile you so?’ Grijio asked his father, putting the cage aside.

De Lancey adjusted his clothing and was full of decorum once more.

‘He accused De Lancey of taking you as a lover,’ Quintana said calmly.

In some way, there was little difference between this Quintana and the indignant Reginita. They both had the habit of not recognising when to refrain from speaking.

Grijio snorted with laughter at the idea. A young woman hurried into the room, her blonde curls bouncing around her face, her eyes wide with curiosity.

‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘I heard shouting and …’ She saw the glass on the ground and looked at De Lancey for an explanation. Froi noticed that in contrast to the richness of De Lancey’s complexion, his children were fair and blue-eyed.

‘Arjuro accused Father of taking me as a lover and Father took great offence and leapt across the table to strangle Arjuro.’

The girl was as stunned as Grijio.

‘You mean the Priestling’s here and nobody told me.’

She looked around, searching the table. Grijio pointed to Arjuro.

The girl shuddered. ‘All these years I’ve been expecting a demigod. A less decrepit version of Gargarin.’

‘My daughter, Tippideaux,’ De Lancey said dryly. She noticed Gargarin.

‘Welcome back, Sir.’

‘Thank you, Tippideaux,’ Gargarin managed politely, looking somewhat insulted by her image of Arjuro.

Tippideaux eyed Lirah next with a question hanging in the air.

‘Lirah of Serker,’ her brother said, blushing the moment he looked at Lirah.

‘
The King’s Serker whore?
’ Tippideaux asked, her curls bouncing as she turned to De Lancey for confirmation, as if it could not possibly be true. ‘What a strange night this is, Father.’

‘Lirah of Serker,’ her father corrected, looking wary as Tippideaux’s eyes found Quintana.

Everyone in the room except for the two girls seemed to wince at the thought of what would take place next.

‘Quintana of Charyn,’ Grijio introduced, sending his sister a warning look.

Tippideaux was aghast and held up a hand as if to shield herself from the sight of Quintana. If she wasn’t so awful in her honesty, Froi would have laughed.

‘What a ridiculous way to wear one’s hair,’ she said, horrified. She cast a look down Quintana’s form. ‘And that dress does not suit your figure, Your Highness.’

Grijio cleared his voice. ‘She’s …’ He leaned over and whispered in his sister’s ear.

Finally they had a moment’s reprieve.

Tippideaux of Paladozza fainted.

Later, Froi sat with Gargarin and De Lancey in a large reading room. The walls were stacked high with books and the floor was covered by a thick rug that enabled them to lounge on cushions for comfort.

‘This could cause hysteria,’ De Lancey said. ‘We could have women fainting all over Charyn.’

‘But Tippideaux –’

‘Doesn’t faint,’ De Lancey interrupted. ‘Tippideaux causes people to faint.’

‘What are your thoughts?’ Gargarin asked.

‘The Princess can’t stay here, Gargarin. I have no way of protecting her.’

‘You have no way of protecting your people, you mean,’ Froi snapped. ‘Like you had no intention of bargaining for her life in the Citavita.’

‘No,’ De Lancey said, anger lacing his words. ‘I have no way of protecting her. My people know what to do in an invasion. We go to ground and believe me when I say we can live underground for as long as it takes. But if they come in the dead of the night to take her, there will be nothing I can do.’

Froi looked away in disgust, but he felt De Lancey’s stare piercing into him.

‘Your boy needs to learn manners,’ the Provincaro said. ‘He has little respect.’

‘Only for those who deserve it,’ Froi said.

‘Wonderful. An Arjuro in the making,’ De Lancey muttered.

One of his people came in to serve sweet wine and dried apricots. Gargarin waited for the man to go.

‘Where would you suggest then?’

‘Sebastabol,’ the Provincaro replied. ‘They have the ocean on one side and a wall on the other. It’s impossible to invade. And apart from the fact that the Provincaro is still furious about the kidnapping of Olivier, I think we can convince him to offer the Princess sanctuary.’

‘How discreet are your Guard and servants?’ Froi asked.