‘You’re missing the point. My powers, though strong, are limited by the weakness of my being just a man. It will destroy me faster than I’ll be able to help you—that’s what I fear. I know you’ve been sparing. But once this new fight begins, you will call upon me again and again,’ Kirin said wearily. ‘I would wreck my body gladly if I thought it could last.’
Freath waved a finger at his friend, hating this schism when he most needed Kirin’s loyalty. ‘Listen to me. You can leave now if you don’t want to be a part of this. Don’t go back to the palace, just disappear and be free. I’ll think of something to tell anyone who asks. But don’t expect me to do the same. I cannot—will not—relinquish my loyalty to the Valisars.’
Kirin nodded sadly. ‘Where is the army to come from, Freath, that will go up against Loethar? Where is the aegis that you believe will protect Leo? No amount of our searching has proved fruitful. What is the future for your new king when you have set off a fight that will lay this realm and others to waste?’
‘I don’t have the answers you want. I don’t have any answers! But I fear I cannot do this without you. I have no allies in the palace without you.’
‘Freath, we are pathetic.’
‘I know. But we have to try, don’t we?’
Kirin spun away, looking angry but also torn. Freath looked at the grey silvering Kirin’s hair. It was only a few strands but they had not been there a year ago. He’d watched the lines in the younger man’s face deepen; he’d witnessed wisdom and maturity replacing youth and energy in this man who could no longer be considered young at thirty-three anni. He wondered who Kirin would be had he been allowed to grow into his role at the Academy in Cremond, instead of facing the fear and bloodshed he had. He could wonder that for all of them, though. They would all be very different if their lives had not been scarred by Loethar’s marauding horde.
He couldn’t lose Kirin. Even though he had just urged his friend to leave, he would be devastated if Kirin walked away now. He had to find the right words to make his friend remain. He knew what to do.
‘I think you need some time. Don’t disappear, my friend. Instead, go and find Clovis for me. Get away from all of this. Who knows, perhaps you’ll find Piven.’ As he said it, Freath realised this plan was wise, far more sound than what he’d originally had in mind. ‘Meet the boy on safe territory somewhere. Get a feeling for who he is now. Work out a line of communication between us so that we can talk without revealing ourselves. And while you’re doing this, think about your role, Kirin. Consider how much I need you, how much the Valisar boys need every loyal soul we can muster.’
Kirin nodded. ‘I will take this time you’re offering. Ever since word came through about Piven I’ve felt excited and I’ve needed that after years of feeling hollow. But I don’t want to use Piven to win back a throne. I’ve realised my excitement is for the fact that he’s alive, not that he offers potential.’ Freath bit back the retort that threatened to fly from his mouth. ‘You follow Leo,’ Kirin continued. ‘I’ll find Clovis and we’ll take it from there.’
Freath didn’t know what to feel. He was glad that Kirin wasn’t deserting him entirely, but the separation felt bitter nonetheless. ‘When will you leave?’
Kirin shrugged. ‘Immediately. The note said Clovis was heading to Minton Woodlet. I’ll start there.’
‘What if he should send more news?’
‘He has no more pigeons. He would have used the one you gave Reuth all those years ago; he never had one of his own. I reckon with a horse and some money I can find him faster than he can try and re-open the lines of communication.’
Freath nodded reluctantly. ‘Money’s no problem. We’ll buy you a horse, though, from here. I don’t think you should take a palace beast, just in case.’ There was suddenly nothing more to say. ‘So you’ll leave, just like that?’
‘Freath,’ Kirin began gently, then sighed. ‘Yes. I promise I will get word to you somehow.’
‘Won’t you at least share a plate of Osh with me?’
Kirin gave a soft grin. ‘Do you always have to win?’
Greven dug his staff into the ground and hauled himself up the incline.
‘Are you all right?’ Piven asked over his shoulder.
‘Don’t worry about me, lad. I’m as strong as an ox.’
‘Well an ox, as strong as it is, would be stupid to climb this hill. I still don’t understand why we must.’
Greven gave a brief bitter laugh. ‘Because only fools would.’
‘There’s a perfectly good road below us.’
‘Perfectly good, yes. Also perfectly open, perfectly positioned for ambush, perfectly—’
Piven stopped and turned. ‘Ambush?’ he interrupted, his voice leaden with sarcasm.
Greven waved a hand. ‘Just pause a while. Let me catch my breath.’ He looked up to see the sun low in the sky. It was nearly time to think about an evening meal. ‘You must be famished. Let’s stop properly and eat something light. We can build a fire later and cook the rabbits we’ve brought.’
Piven unslung the water skin and offered it to Greven, who took it gratefully and drank a few mouthfuls. ‘Ah,’ he sighed with relief. ‘I suspect I owe you an explanation.’
‘I would agree with that,’ Piven replied, sitting down beside Greven. ‘What are you frightened of? What happened yesterday?’
Greven knew the boy deserved to know. And he felt safer now that they had put some distance between themselves and the interfering couple. ‘A man called Clovis and his wife, Reuth, came to see me. They are looking for you.’ As he spoke he delved into a small sack of food, pulling out a tiny loaf of bread, a hunk of cheese and some nuts.
‘Me?’
Despite the note of surprise in his tone, Greven sensed that Piven had already guessed as much. The boy’s perceptiveness was unnerving for one so young. ‘I suppose it was wishful thinking to imagine that anyone from the former royal family would be left entirely alone,’ Greven grumbled, more to himself. He placed a knife on the stump of a nearby tree that had obviously been felled a long time ago, its surface smooth enough now to act as a makeshift table.
‘They would do better to hunt Leo,’ Piven replied carefully.
Greven frowned. The boy was right. So why was he so frightened for Piven and, more to the point, of Piven and his powers? ‘They probably imagine that Leo is dead. And he could be, for all we know. But someone obviously suspects you’re alive and while you may not be blood, you are still valuable as a figure of hope to any pockets of loyalism.’
Piven shook his head. ‘It’s been ten anni!’
‘Some people have long memories, son.’
‘Do they know?’
Greven shook his head, understanding. ‘No one knows of your change but you and me. And no one should know, if we’re sensible.’
‘You want me to pretend to still be simple?’
‘I don’t know what I want. I just don’t want anyone to know about your true identity.’
‘But they still think I’m an imbecile.’
‘Imbecile? That’s a harsh word. From what I could tell, Piven, everyone thought of you simply as an invalid. But you’re right—they believe you to be older but exactly as you were when you were last at the palace. That’s our one advantage. I’m hoping we can lose ourselves