Tyrant's Blood by Fiona McIntosh

Author:Fiona McIntosh [McIntosh, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780730451037
Google: ZEdRGtDxOGsC
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2010-05-31T16:00:00+00:00

20

In broad daylight Sergius could make out the terrain, could even recognise some plants. He wasn’t sure why he’d begun picking the pink, mauve and violet seaside daisies today but he’d been collecting a few of the pretty pink flowers of love when he’d heard a familiar caw. Looking up, he recognised the shape of his favourite friend.

Friends were few these days—just a couple of people from the closest village, who brought supplies to keep him going for moons on end. He wanted for little and grew a lot of what he needed anyway. But whenever he could make out Ravan, his heart lurched with joy. Ravan always brought real news from the outside, well beyond the boundaries of this cliff face or even the surrounding villages.

‘Ah, Ravan,’ he murmured. ‘You seem to know when I most need your company.’ He waved and before long the bird had landed effortlessly on the ground, leaping almost immediately to Sergius’s shoulder. ‘You’re such a show-off,’ he accused, stroking the bird as he walked into his hut.

Hello, Sergius. Got some food for me?

‘No, wretched bird. You’re the one with the sharp eyes. You’ll have to hunt, I’m afraid.’

The hospitality’s not as good as it used to be, Ravan complained mildly.

Sergius chuckled. ‘Arriving unannounced, you must have some news?’ he enquired eagerly.

I do. Troubling it is, too.

‘Oh? Come in, come in. Do you need some water?’

I can’t stay.

Sergius frowned. His friend sounded uncharacteristically nervous. ‘What bothers you, Ravan?’

Piven.

‘Ah. Now fifteen anni. Is he giving Greven some grief? It’s to be expected in a lad of his age.’

Ravan hopped onto the familiar table so his friend could sit down and look at him at close range. Grief? Yes, you could call it that.

‘Why didn’t you just talk to me via the seam?’

I didn’t want to risk it. I think I shield my thoughts better when I am far away from him.

‘Loethar?’ Sergius asked.

No. Piven.

‘What do you mean?’

Piven is changing. I’ve sensed that for a long time and I seem to be in tune with his moods. Lately he’s been plunging into a darkness I can’t really describe other than to say it feels like evil.

Sergius frowned. ‘Evil? I don’t understand.’

Neither do I, fully. But I feel it. And he and I have always been connected.

‘You’ve always felt connected to Loethar too.’

I still do. I’m connected to both of them, but in different ways. With Loethar I feel it’s my duty is to be a friend to him. With Piven, it’s different. I am drawn to him. And then there is another.

‘Leonel is—’

No, Sergius. While I was glad to help Leo and his injured friend to get assistance from Lily and Greven, I don’t feel connected to the Valisar king in the same way as I do to Piven, nor did I feel it for his father. Helping Leo in the forest seemed the right thing to do, yet I never understood why I helped Loethar’s enemy.

‘Tell me the news,’ Sergius suggested. ‘You seem troubled.’

I am. I felt Piven’s spirits plummet and I went in search of him.

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