Читать книгу Tyrant’s Blood - Fiona McIntosh, Fiona McIntosh - Страница 13

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 among people, especially as we are now hard to pinpoint given your maturity and the fact that my leprosy has miraculously cleared.’

‘Don’t avoid the truth,’ Piven said, somewhat harshly. ‘It’s not a miracle. It’s magic.’

‘I know you’re one for honesty, Piven, but you’re never to speak of magic so openly again, do you hear?’

Piven scowled. ‘Why are you so scared of it?’

‘You could be killed for admitting you possess it, and let me assure you that being killed would be the easy let-off. I told you a long time ago that the barbarians were hunting down all Vested. I heard they rounded up quite a horde but I have no idea what happened to them. I suspect many were killed.’

‘And was Clovis one of those rounded up?’

Greven’s head snapped around. ‘You catch on quickly for someone who was an imbecile,’ he said, pointedly.

‘That’s because I never was one.’

Greven hadn’t expected an answer and he certainly hadn’t anticipated a response that would shock him. ‘Pardon?’ Piven smiled. Normally, Piven’s smiles were warm and bright but Greven glimpsed cunning in this one. It was gone quickly but he’d seen it and it felt unnerving. Once again he was reminded to strengthen his resolve against his urges. Were they being unwittingly whittled away by Piven’s power? Did the boy even understand it? ‘What do you mean, child?’

Piven shrugged. ‘I wasn’t mad. I was lost, just as you said. There’s a difference.’

Greven’s gaze narrowed. ‘We’ve never really talked about what happened, have we?’

‘We’ve never needed to,’ Piven said, pulling himself up by a tree branch. ‘We’ve always just been glad I turned out as I have.’

Greven didn’t move. He checked all the mental barriers he’d taught himself to erect. His mind was tight; no thoughts, no clues were leaking. ‘You’re right. It was as though Lo himself smiled upon you.’ Again he saw Piven’s lip curl slightly in a half smile, bordering on a smirk. ‘It was enough for me. Do you recall when I found you?’

‘Greven, why are we doing this?’

‘What?’

‘Talking about old times while perched on a hill that we are using to run away from the life we enjoyed.’

‘Do you know, you’ve said more in the last day than you’ve uttered in your lifetime?’

Piven shook his head. ‘I hate exaggeration.’

‘Perhaps you’ve forgotten how silent you were.’

‘You’re deliberately trying to upset me, I think.’

‘I love you, Piven. I would never deliberately do anything to upset you.’

‘Then stop probing me.’

‘Why?’

Piven kicked at a small rock. ‘Because I don’t want to answer lots of questions.’

‘Although it seems you have answers.’

‘Not necessarily.’

‘Look at me, boy,’ Greven demanded.

Piven sulkily met Greven’s eyes. ‘What?’

Greven could remember Lily being much like this when she had been around the same age as Piven. Sullenness and taking the opposite view of adults seemed to be the disposition of all youth. But he was certain there was something else between himself and his boy. ‘What’s eating at you?’ Greven asked, his tone as reasonable and as friendly as he could make it.

‘I’m just angry.’

‘Why?’

‘I liked where we lived.’ Piven shrugged. ‘I liked our life. I don’t see why strangers should send us on the run and I don’t see why I don’t have any say in it.’

Greven nodded. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry I didn’t consult you.’

Piven said nothing but Greven could see the boy’s jaw working furiously. He was angry, and had disguised it well until now. ‘Shall we talk about it?’ he tried.

‘Will it make any difference? Will it make you turn back?’

‘No.’

‘Then there’s no point in talking about it.’

‘Nevertheless, I think we should talk about those olden times you refer to.’

Piven gave a long sigh as though bored. ‘And if I don’t want to?’

‘Then let me talk.’

Piven nodded, although Greven sensed that the boy felt he didn’t have much choice.

‘I want to talk about your magic.’ He saw Piven’s jaw clench.

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t understand it. Apple?’ Greven held out the fruit he’d dug from his sack. ‘Help yourself.’

Piven picked up the small knife and cut off a chunk of the apple. He bit into the fruit as he replied, ‘What do you want to know?’

‘You told me a while back that you could wield this magic. But you’ve never said how long you’ve known you’ve had the skill.’

The boy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Forever.’

‘Forever being from when you were little…or from when you began talking?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Greven nodded, not entirely convinced he trusted that answer. ‘All right. When did you first use it?’

‘To heal a robin with a damaged wing.’ Piven tested the sharpness of the knife on his thumb.

‘When was that?’

‘In the woods, outside our hut.’

‘When, I said, not where.’

Piven gave a vexed sigh. ‘I can’t remember, probably three winters ago.’

‘And you’ve been using magic ever since?’

‘No. The next time was on you.’

‘Why?’

‘To give you back your face. I—’

‘No, Piven. I meant why did you wait? Between the robin and me?’

Piven shook his head. ‘I didn’t trust it. I didn’t really understand it.’ He hacked off another chunk of the apple and began chewing on it.

‘Didn’t trust it? Why?’

‘I’m Valisar.’

Greven frowned, reached for some bread. ‘In name only.’

Piven looked away, seemingly embarrassed.

‘Had you forgotten you were adopted?’

‘What I meant is, despite my seeming madness I’ve lived as Valisar and the royal family obviously made me nervous about magic. I didn’t trust it.’

Greven felt a nervous energy ripple through him. He threw the morsel of bread left in his hand to some inquisitive birds nearby. ‘So you could understand what they were saying around you?’

‘I suppose.’

Greven tried not to lose his patience. ‘Piven, help me. I’m trying to understand you.’

‘There’s nothing much to understand, Greven. I didn’t use my magic because I wasn’t sure about it. That’s all.’ Piven flicked the knife around in his hand, angrily.

‘If you didn’t use it, how did you know you possessed it?’

‘I knew, that’s all,’ Piven said, and Greven could tell that his young companion would not be drawn on this.

‘Do you know the extent of your powers?’

Piven shook his head, hacking at the grasses between his ankles ith the knife, his head lowered.

‘Forgive me all these questions, child, but you’re all I have. I love you. I want to understand so I can always help, always protect you.’

‘I know.’

‘How do you explain that you have this magic?’

Piven shrugged. ‘I’m Vested, I suppose.’

‘In which case you can understand why I’m worried, why I feel the need to protect you from those who would want to make use of that magic.’

‘If I have to use it, then I want to use it for the good of others.’

‘Exactly!’ Greven exclaimed. ‘Exactly,’ he repeated, relief flooding his body. ‘My fears, child, are that people might want to use it for reasons that do not help others.’

‘No one could make me do anything I don’t want to.’

‘You’d be surprised what people will do to avoid being hurt, or to prevent those they love from being hurt.’

Piven tossed away the apple core and wiped the knife blade clean on his trousers. ‘So you would agree that there are occasions when we must hurt others to protect ourselves…or those we love?’

Greven baulked at the question but he could see Piven wanted a direct answer. ‘I would do anything to protect you…or Lily. I would probably have killed or certainly harmed some soldiers once—if I’d been able—when your adopted brother, Leo, came into my life. That was a terrifying moment. Yes, I would have done anything to stop them hurting Lily—or him, come to that.’

Piven nodded as though an important admission had been made. ‘What do you think the man Clovis is after?’

It was a straight question; Greven could hardly answer it indirectly. ‘I believe he has been trying to hunt you down for many anni and was sure he had stumbled upon the right path at last. I think he wanted to see that it truly was you first and then I believe he would have tried to persuade you to join him.’

‘Why?’

‘That I can’t answer. He is Vested. Perhaps he is in touch with other Vested and can sense you, or perhaps—’

‘I think I can guess,’ Piven said, sounding as if he had wearied of the conversation.

‘Really?’

‘Rebellion,’ Piven stated, his tone bald and unimpressed.

Greven was shocked. He rocked back against the tree he was leaning against and regarded Piven. He’d underestimated his charge. For anni he’d just been delighted that something had unlocked the child from his prison of silence. But Greven was beginning to think he’d entirely misjudged Piven, accepting his quietness for lack of thought and his simple outlook for a lack of depth. ‘Rebellion?’ he repeated dimly.

‘Do you really think the entire population of Penraven—let alone the masses of the Set proper—were going to just lay down arms entirely and accept a barbarian ruler?’

Greven looked at his child, astonished. ‘But they have.’

Piven held a finger in the air. ‘Most. Not all.’

Greven shook his head in bewilderment. ‘How would you know?’

‘I can sense it. But my skills aside, any rational person would have to allow that there would always be potential for rebellion, as long as a Valisar remained alive.’

‘But you’re not Valisar, Piven!’

Piven gave him such a look of disdain that Greven actually flinched. ‘I was referring to Leo.’

‘We have no idea if he’s ali—’

‘He is. I feel it,’ Piven said casually, raising the water skin to his mouth. He swallowed. ‘And as long as he is, there will be people who will rally for the Valisars. And I’m extremely useful, I’m sure, as a symbol for the Valisar Crown until he reveals himself.’

Greven cleared his throat. ‘Piven, you sound so much older than you are.’

Piven turned and there was his beautiful uncomplicated smile again. ‘Is that a bad thing?’

‘No. No, not at all,’ Greven said, gathering his wits. ‘Refreshing, in fact…but unnerving all the same.’

Piven’s smile widened. ‘Sorry. But forcing me to leave my home has brought this all out of me. We’ve lived in a very protected, remote manner, haven’t we, Greven? And now, suddenly, I’m being forced to confront the real world. Real dangers.’

‘Indeed. I would save you from it if I could.’

‘I know. You may have to yet.’

Again, there it was; knowledge of something…a cryptic comment in a response as though Greven had given some form of admission. He was baffled by it. The truth was, he realised, he was baffled by Piven this day. He could hardly recognise him as the same quietly spoken, generally remote youth he’d shared a home with only a day or so earlier. Now he felt as though he was talking with an equal—an outspoken, well-informed one at that. ‘One more question, if I may?’ he asked.

Piven looked up through his straggly dark hair. ‘Yes?’

‘When do you remember first making sense of what was being said around you?’

The boy nodded. ‘I’ve asked myself that same question many times. I always return to the same answer.’

‘Which is?’

‘When my father, the king, died.’

Greven didn’t have the heart to correct Piven. Besides, the boy would likely leap down his throat anyway. He didn’t need any further reminding of his lineage. ‘Can you describe that time? Not the horror of it but what was happening to you, I mean.’

‘I can’t, really. I just think I became more aware of everyone around me then. Real thoughts were impacting, people’s comments made a little more sense, I could focus a little bit. But only a bit. My main anchor, I suppose you could call him, was Vyk. When he was around I could concentrate and all the noises and confusion that usually filled my head would lessen a lot.’

‘Is the bird magical?’ Greven asked.

Piven shrugged. ‘He was to me.’

That was an evasive answer but Greven let it go. ‘Where has he gone?’

‘He’ll find us.’

‘Why are you so sure?’

‘I just am. He hasn’t finished with me.’

Greven knew he should leave it alone, but he couldn’t. ‘So you think it was the death of King Brennus that allowed you to…to…’

‘To enter the world properly, yes,’ Piven replied. ‘But not immediately. It took time. You know how I was in the beginning.’

‘I do. But now look at you. I feel as though you’ve changed since we sat down!’

Piven smiled, a true sunny smile. ‘I think being on the run like this has made me accept that I can’t keep hiding from who I am. Like you said, there will be people who would use my presence as a rally cry for those still loyal to the Valisars. And then there are those who would make use of my magics for their own gain. I’m not sure I would permit either.’

He sounded so grown up it was astonishing. Greven tried not to show his surprise. ‘But we are loyal to the Valisars, surely?’

‘Of course, but I won’t be a pawn for someone else’s rebellion, Greven. I think I must find Leo.’

‘No, Piven. I had no intention of embarking on a crusade. I want us to escape attention, not go looking for it.’

‘You were hoping we could blend into another invisible life—Jon Lark and his son Petor?’

Greven frowned. ‘Yes.’

‘Then you’re being naive.’ Greven felt a spike of fresh anxiety as Piven continued. ‘If this man Clovis can find me now he can find me again. And if he can find me so can Loethar or anyone else who wants me dead, or alive, or as a symbol, or as a Vested, or as a—’

‘Stop. Piven, what’s happening to you?’

Greven watched the boy he loved take a long slow breath before he spoke. He watched as the dark eyes lifted to regard his. ‘What’s happening is that I’m being realistic. I am accepting that I cannot have the quiet life in the hut in the forest and that I can no longer be Piven in disguise as Petor Lark and I am discovering that my magic will not be still.’

Greven stared at him, awe and anxiety battling within.

‘This magic I have,’ Piven continued. ‘Wild or divine or whatever in Lo’s name this skill I possess is, it claws at me. It has for a long time. And I have resisted it for all that time. I’m beginning to think that those first five anni were protection granted by the heavens. Now I fear something dangerous is lurking.’

Greven didn’t know what to say. He watched the youngster weigh the blade in his hand, and then, as if having made a decision, he handed it back to Greven. ‘Put this back in your sack. We’d better clear up and be on our way again.’

Greven nodded dumbly, not understanding why he felt suddenly intensely frightened.