The Uncrowned King by Rowena Cory Daniells Page B

look of them. One was without a leg from the knee down and the other's hands were crippled with the bone-ache.
    'They're saying all the king's old honour guard are dead,' One-leg muttered. 'I remember Temor as a boy, remember his da. Good men, both of 'em.'
    'Good men,' the other echoed. 'Young Rolen lost a lot of good men today.'
    It took a moment for Piro to realise they were talking about her father.
    'Eh, he can't afford to. Not with the enemy at the gates again.' One-leg shook his head. 'The Bastard's brat shouldn't have punished Sawtree.'
    'Aye. Good man, Sawtree,' the other agreed.
    Piro's stomach lurched and her skin went cold. So the spit-turner hadn't been entirely honest with her. She wanted to ask these old men what Cobalt had done to punish Sawtree, but she didn't dare.
    'I hear the Bastard's brat's offering a reward for news of Rolen's girl,' One-leg said and spat.
    Piro crept away feeling guilty. What had Cobalt done to Sawtree? She wanted to go to him and help, but that would be an insult when he had chosen to sacrifice himself for her. Tears stung her eyes. She searched for somewhere safe, somewhere that if she was found she would not endanger others.
    At last she settled in a store room. Everything had gone wrong. Her two oldest brothers were missing, her mother was locked up, her father was sick and had placed his trust in a trickster and now, Rolenhold was under siege.
    Unable to eat, she stared out the single high window. The stars were covered by thick cloud tonight, which meant the usual dusk breeze hadn't come in from the sea. Had the Ostronite merchant escaped?
    He was probably wealthy enough to cry hostage and pay for his release but his sailors and servants would not be so lucky. The best they could hope for was to be kept as seven-year slaves. Merofynians exacted seven years' servitude in return for captives' lives. Strange to think that a kingdom which considered itself the most civilised in the known world should keep slaves and hold to such harsh laws. For all that the Merofynians looked down on Rolencians as barbarians, her father had preferred a simple beheading to the hanging, drawing and quartering of the convicted.

Chapter Seven
     
    It had taken the better part of the day for Fyn to lead the boys down the slope towards the village and now he hesitated in a hollow, out of sight of the village's gate tower. Finding Merofynian invaders inside the abbey had unnerved him. Who knew where the enemy was?
    He ordered the boys to wait but, with the promise of hot food only two bow shots away, the older boys muttered about the delay and the little ones cried softly.
    'They're just about done, Fyn,' Feldspar protested, catching up with him. 'Can't we -'
    'No, we can't!' He grimaced. 'Sorry. I don't want to lead you all into a trap.'
    'Do you think the Merofynians are already there?' Joff asked.
    Fyn shrugged. 'I just don't know.'
    'We'll wait,' Feldspar whispered. 'Settle them down, Joff.'
    He moved off and Feldspar squeezed Fyn's shoulder.
    He wanted to brush off that supporting hand. Felt a fraud. No one would be following him if they knew how he'd failed the abbot.
    On top of that, impatience and worry ate at Fyn. Already, he had lost a night and a day since the abbey had been taken. And he still had to cross Rolencia's ripe valley. No matter how often he told himself Piro was safe in Rolenhold, he couldn't rid himself of the worm of worry that gnawed at his belly. She was in trouble, he just knew it.
    'What is it?' Feldspar asked.
    Fyn glanced around the hollow while Lenny waited at his side, shivering but not complaining. This was all that remained of Halcyon's warrior monks, small boys and acolytes who were too young to go to war. A wave of loss engulfed Fyn. Tears burned his eyes as he thought of the knowledge lost with the monks' deaths. The Merofynians were probably ransacking the great library even now. On a more practical note, who would tend the hothouse seedlings? How would the farmers