The Kings Man Read Free Page B

say?’
    ‘In just one day. I heard a rumour they were betrayed from within. King Rolen died even before the castle fell, murdered under a flag of truce –’
    ‘What?’ Garzik shuddered. The king had been like a second father to him. Kind, in his bluff way. Anger choked Garzik. ‘Those cowardly Merofynians... But what can you expect of a king who offers his daughter’s hand to cement an alliance, when he’s really planning an invasion?’
    Garzik’s mind ran on. Queen Myrella would be heartbroken. As for Piro... The thought of how she’d bristle at finding herself a prisoner made him smile.
    A year younger than him, she’d plagued him all his life, wanting to join in with what the big boys were doing. Only last summer, after he’d won a coveted place on the fishing boat with Lence, Byren and Orrade, she’d talked her way in. He would have willingly pushed her into the lake that day.
    But since the time she’d dressed as a goat-herder to help Byren restore the Warlord of Unistag Spar... well, he’d been thinking about her a lot lately. ‘I suppose the queen and her daughter are prisoners?’
    The scribe blinked. ‘You don’t know –’
    ‘Queen Myrella’s dead?’ Garzik felt sick. His own mother was long dead; Byren’s mother had been the closest thing he had to a mother.
    Mitrovan shook his head. ‘Yes, both of them were killed.’
    Not Piro. He could not believe it. Would not. ‘But Piro’s only thirteen and a kingsdaughter. She’d be a valuable prisoner. Why kill her? You must have it wrong –’
    ‘They burned the bodies,’ Mitrovan whispered. ‘The day the castle fell, they burned their bodies to make sure no one could take trophies.’
    He said it with such finality.
    Turning away from Mitrovan, Garzik curled up, covered his head with his arms and willed the world to go away.
    And it did. For a while.
    When next he woke, the sled-ship’s movement had changed and he was even hungrier. He sat up. ‘I think we’re approaching Port Marchand.’
    Mitrovan shifted and sat up next to him. He listened for a moment. ‘I think you’re right.’
    ‘They’ll have to transport us from the lakeside-wharves across port to the bay.’ Garzik had been here last spring with his family. Happier times... If Piro and Queen Myrella were dead, dare he hold out hope for Elina? Despair made him curl up again. He’d never realised heartache could cause physical pain.
    ‘We’ll be up on deck soon, in the fresh air,’ Mitrovan told him.
    He was right. Not long after that they were herded out of the hold up onto the deck, where they blinked in the weak sun, under the brilliant icy-blue of the Rolencian winter sky.
    Garzik shivered, his bare feet freezing on the cold wood of the deck. He could really have done with his boots.
    Now that they were in the light, he counted his companions. There were fifteen of them, all young, all with injuries that would heal. Master Cialon had made sure Lord Travany would get his seven years’ service out of them.
    Garzik’s head spun and he had trouble staying upright. He hated being so weak, hated having to rely on the scribe who, now that he got a good look, was probably not much older than Byren. Mitrovan adjusted his weight to better support Garzik. The movement made the tall, skinny scribe grimace with pain.
    ‘What happened to you?’ Garzik gestured to the where he favoured his right side. ‘Did a Merofynian –’
    ‘Nothing like that.’ The scribe looked rueful. ‘I slipped on the ice and cracked a rib.’
    Garzik grinned.
    A familiar voice made him turn and look. In the light of day, with his arm in a sling, Feo did not appear too threatening. Garzik frowned. Wait a moment; hadn’t Feo attacked him with both hands? ‘What’s wrong with Feo’s arm?’
    ‘Nothing.’ Mitrovan kept his voice low. ‘He made a sling from a torn up shirt and fell in with us, because he thought he’d be able to escape from the injured group, but they watched us too closely. He