The Whisperer Read Free

heads.
    Tyren continued. ‘What’s more, we never saw the Queen during her pregnancy. We never saw the lad when he was born. They’ve been so careful with that boy.’
    ‘We haven’t been to Floris in many years, Tyren. He could be a strapping lad by now,’ his wife had said, reaching for the still-warm lekka biscuits, spiced with cinnamon. ‘Besides, we did hear that her majesty’s confinement was touch and go. They didn’t want to risk the child. The physicians thought it better to keep her still and not allow her out and about.’
    Tyren gave a sound of disgust. ‘It’s all a bit strange if you ask me.’
    ‘Oh, hush,’ his wife admonished. ‘We know the boy is hale and healthy now—it’s half the reason we’re appearing in the capital, isn’t it? To celebrate his birthday?’
    Tyren grunted. ‘Well, if he’s all grown up then it’s all the more reason for Janko to hate him.’
    ‘There’s a darkness in his soul,’ Blind Pippin had added, even though he hadn’t been part of the conversation. ‘I sense it whenever we’re in the north, I can feel that man’s shadowy presence.’
    Madam Tyren had snorted her disgust at this and several others around the fire had clearly agreed. They all accepted Pippin’s ‘visions’ as his act and were quite happy to go along with it, as long as he was earning money for the Travelling Show’s coffers. But it seemed they didn’t appreciate Blind Pippin continuing his act outside the tent.
    But Griffin had stored away the blind old man’s insights and paid careful attention to Master Tyren’s warning. He himself had never even had Duke Janko’s shadow cross his path, so he didn’t consider himself a judge of the man. But the stories of his ferocious battle skills and courage were legendary in Drestonia. Griff wasn’t sure he needed to meet any royalty anyway. He was happy with the simple life on the road, although he missed home deeply. Griff always dismissed thoughts of home before they took hold and could upset him. It was best to forget the past, banish the memory of his father’s sorrowful face when they had left him and to simply look forward—to try his utmost to enjoy this new life travelling the realm.
    Tomorrow evening the performances at Tarrymonger would take place. Newcomers to Master Tyren’s shows were never sure what to expect. This was not a circus, nor was it a fairground. The Marvels of Nature were essentially the curious oddities of life that people rarely got to view. He wondered about Tyren’s new act that he was to help with and got a hurry on, keen to please the showmaster and secure their bargain, because the absolute last thing on Earth Griff wanted was for his secret to get out.

2
    Lute watched his mother’s skirts billow in a circle as she swung around at her husband’s suggestion. He had always enjoyed the rustle and swish of her silks and taffetas. It was the sound he associated with his beautiful mother, the Queen. He hadn’t taken much active interest in the politics of the realm but he liked to listen to his parents and, as Pilo had counselled, the less he spoke and the more he listened, the more he learned. He bit silently into the juicy pinky orange flesh of the garalba, its sweet fresh flavour exploding into his mouth.
    ‘A hero’s welcome?’ Queen Miralda said, eyebrows arching with surprise.
    Lute glanced towards his father, who shrugged. ‘Why not?’
    The recently turned thirteen-year-old watched the Queen join the King at the window of the King’s private salon. They both looked out across the city. Lute wondered if they’d forgotten he was there, curled up on a soft chair. Unlikely, he decided, but he had worked out long ago that to be still and relatively quiet meant that he could linger longer among the adults.
    He knew the scene that his parents looked down upon very well indeed, having stared out of the same window every day since he was old enough to stand. He loved his father’s private salon and