The Kings Man Read Free Page A

Blackwing. Dismay settled in the pit of Garzik’s stomach. He was out of his depth. The rules he’d grown up with did not apply in the hold of a sled-ship.
    Soft whispers and moans came from the other men in the hold. Either it was getting lighter, or his sight was improving, because he could see Mitrovan’s dirty face now. The scribe’s slightly protuberant eyes studied him. Under all that dust, Mitrovan’s hair was black; he was not old, just fussy and frightened.
    ‘Someone took my boots –’
    Feo laughed.
    ‘Forget your boots,’ the scribe said. ‘Keep your head down and we’ll be all right.’
    Garzik wanted to tell him there was no ‘we.’ He was not a coward who gave in to bullies. He was Lord Dovecote’s younger son, a warrior in training. He held his honour high.
    But Byren had asked him to do one important thing and he’d failed.
    Did Byren still live? May it please Goddess Halcyon, bringer of bountiful summer, let Byren live. Let him have rescued Lence and escaped with Orrie and Elina. Let them all be safe up in the foot-hills of the mountains.
    Garzik searched his memory of the overheard conversation between Master Cialon and Lord Travany’s other servants, but the details were hazy and he could not recall any mention of Byren’s name. Surely, if the king’s son been captured or lay dead, the Merofynians would have been crowing?
    ‘What news of Byren?’ he asked the scribe. ‘Does Byren Kingson still live?’
    ‘I’ve no idea. He wasn’t at the castle when the Merofynians attacked. There was hardly any warning.’ Mitrovan looked beyond Garzik, into the past. ‘Before my master escaped with his family, he entrusted me to oversee the loading of his prized possessions on a ship bound for Ostron Isle. I should have joined him there, but the ship never left the dock. When the castle fell, it –’
    ‘The castle fell? Rolenhold has never fallen. It’s –’
    ‘Keep your voice down. Feo’s just waiting for a chance to take out his temper on someone,’ the scribe hissed. He glanced over his shoulder and then leaned closer. ‘I’m no fool and you’re no servant. Only a nobleman’s son would have taken that tone with Feo. There’s no need for you to stay here with us. Why don’t you identify yourself? Lord Travany can contact your father to arrange a ransom.’
    Garzik shook his head. Anger and shame made it impossible to speak, even if he’d wanted to.
    ‘I don’t see why anyone would become a seven-year-slave, if they could avoid it. I don’t understand...’ Mitrovan broke off with a little gasp, eyes widening. ‘You’re a spy, sent to report on the Merofynian nobles. The markiz was always telling me to beware Ostronite spies trying to get the inside information on his deals. But this... this is spying in the service of Rolencia.’
    Garzik looked down, wishing his reason for being here was so noble. ‘I’m not... I don’t –’
    ‘Of course,’ Mitrovan agreed, voice low and full of repressed excitement. ‘You can rely on my discretion. But if you want your disguise to work, you need to take a more servile tone. Your tabard is good quality and your accent is refined, so you’d best present yourself as an indoor servant. Is that what you’re pretending to be, a scribe like me? Because a lord’s personal scribe knows when to keep his mouth shut.’
    Garzik looked up. ‘I’m not a spy. I’m...’ He could not bring himself to reveal his failure.
    The scribe shook his head. ‘That’s no good. You need a strong story, one that holds water. You’re lucky you met up with me. I can teach you how to be a nobleman’s scribe. You’ll want to win a place in Lord Travany’s household, win his trust and become privy to his secrets. I know just the way to go about it.’ He nodded to himself as he squeezed Garzik’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll help you.’
    And because this illusion was far better than the bitter truth, Garzik let it slide. ‘The castle fell, you