'It was a chapel, your Highness,' he said roughly. It was where Olio first used the Key of the Heart to heal someone without the aid of a magiker, the prelude to his losing his mind to the same Key.
'Yes, of course it was,' Olio said, his voice distant. He looked at Edaytor and his eyes focused. 'I don't like it here.'
'The harbour is close.' The prelate sniffed the air, 'Can you smell the sea?'
Olio sniffed too. 'No, only the burning. Take me away.'
Edaytor held the prince's hand and led him down the street. A few minutes later they were in a part of the old city that had survived the great fire. All around them people bustled at their work with no spare time to glance at the prince and his party. There were carters pushing loads between warehouses and shops, street hawkers and sellers, children rushing around and between the legs of adults, and priests, soldiers, magikers and sailors crowding the street. And then they were in the open, the narrow streets left behind as they entered the docks, a wide strip of land connecting quays to warehouses. There were dozens of ships tied to the quays, including many of the low-prowed and narrow-beamed warships of the Grenda Lear navy, their kestrel pennants fluttering from every mast. Olio headed for the nearest, Edaytor and the guards half running to keep up. Someone on the ship must have seen the royal entourage on its way, for by the time Olio had reached the foot of the gangplank an officer was standing to attention at the other end.
Olio waited for Edaytor to catch up and glanced at the officer nervously. 'What do I do?' he pleaded in a low voice.
'Ask him for permission to come aboard,' Edaytor whispered in his ear.
Olio cleared his throat. 'Captain, may I come aboard? Please?'
The officer cleared his throat as well. 'Your Highness!' he shouted, making Olio and Edaytor blink. 'Captain Eblo is not aboard! I am watch officer! Ensign Pilburn at your service!'
'Can the watch officer give me permission?' Olio asked Edaytor.
The prelate shrugged. 'Ask him.'
'Can you give me permission to come aboard? Please?'
'Your Highness!' came the shout. 'You have permission to come aboard!'
Olio breathed a sigh of relief. 'Well, that's good,' he said, and started up the gangplank. Before he took the second step one of his guards stopped him and moved in front while another squeezed himself behind. They marched up the gangplank, the rhythm of their feet making it sway. Edaytor watched with curious pleasure as the sandwiched prince, so diminutive between the guards, was escorted on board the ship. The watch officer stepped back and stood to attention. When there was room Edaytor followed with six of the remaining guards, two staying behind at the foot of the gangplank.
'So this is a warship,' Olio said with self-satisfaction, and clicked his heels on the deck as if to prove the case.
'Your Highness!'
'You don't have to say it so loudly,' Olio said. 'Will you show me around? Have you any prisoners?'
'Prisoners?'
'Pirates,' Olio continued, waving his hand in the air. 'That sort of thing.'
'No, your Highness. We have no pirates on board.' Pilburn looked at Edaytor for guidance.
'Killed them all in action, I expect.'
Pilburn's face contorted in confusion.
'Shall we start below?' Edaytor suggested.
'You can show me the brig,' Olio said. 'You do have a brig?'
'Yes, your Highness,' the officer said, leading the way to the aft cabin.
'You don't have to keep on calling me "your Highness". It isn't etiquette. Just "sir".'
'Yes, sir,' Pilburn said obediently.
Over the next ten minutes the royal entourage shuffled and crouched and squeezed through narrow ways and cabins below decks before emerging via a gangway on the foredeck.
'It's not a very big ship, really,' Olio commented.
'It's built to be swift and sure, sir,' the watch officer said. 'That's why we are named the Windsnapper.'
'That's certainly a wonderful name,' Edaytor said.
'Have you seen any action?' Olio asked.
'Why yes, sir,' Pilburn said, obviously offended at the question. 'Three years ago we caught and destroyed a pirate sloop off the shores of Lurisia. Two years ago we were involved in an action against a smuggling port on the border of Hume and Haxus. We had two prisoners in the brig after that fight. And only last year, sir, we chased your outlaw brother out to sea—'
'We've probably taken up enough of your time, Ensign,' Edaytor said quickly, talking over Pilburn. He gently pushed Olio towards the gangplank.
'My outlaw brother?' Olio asked. 'What are you talking about, Ensign?'
'Your Highness?' Pilburn asked in turn, more confused now than ever before.
'We are due back at the palace,' Edaytor said urgently to Olio. He caught the attention of one of the guards and nodded to Pilburn. The guard understood and immediately escorted the ensign back below decks. By now he had manoeuvred the prince to the top of the gangplank, but Olio wedged his feet against it and would not be budged.
'What was that officer talking about, Edaytor?' Olio demanded.
'It was a slip of the tongue, your Highness,' Edaytor answered, still gently trying to shove him down to the dock. 'Nothing important—'
'I'm not a fool,' Olio said, his voice deepening, and for the second time since Olio's accident Edaytor heard something of the old prince in that tone. He stepped back and Olio turned to face him. 'You know something about my brother. Which one? Berayma or Lynan?'
Edaytor licked his lips. He did not know what was best: to continue to feign ignorance or tell the truth. Taking his courage in hand he decided on the latter. 'Ensign Pilburn was talking about Prince Lynan.'
Olio looked over Edaytor's shoulder, out over the harbour and towards the sea. 'Lynan is made outlaw and fled overseas? Is that what all this is about? Is that why no one will talk to me any more? Is that why my mother refuses to see me, or Berayma? Was it my fault?' His voice was rising, and he took hold of Edaytor's cloak. 'Does my family want me outlawed as well?'
The guards were startled by this sudden outburst and did not know which way to look, afraid that if they caught the prince's eye he would ask them the same questions.
Edaytor rested his hands on Olio's fists and said as gently as he could: 'You are loved by your family. No one thinks you have done anything wrong.'
'But what happened to Lynan?' Olio demanded. 'He is so young. How could he possibly be an outlaw?'
Edaytor could not meet Olio's questioning gaze. 'There are some things you must know, but I am not the one to tell you.'
'Then who is?'
'Your beloved sister. Areava will tell you.' He took a deep, guilty breath. 'It is time Areava told you everything.'
'I am afraid,' Olio said, his voice becoming small and childish again. 'Edaytor, I don't know what to think.'
Edaytor put an arm around Olio's shoulders. 'Trust me, your Highness. You will be alright. There is no need for you to be afraid.' He hoped the prince did not hear the doubt in his voice.
Dejanus had not taken a drink for nearly a day. He was going to be cold sober for this all-important council meeting. He was finally going to get what he had wanted ever since he first took up soldiering—an army of his own. He got to the council room early and was irritated to find Harnan Beresard there already, setting up his small secretary's desk and carefully placing his various pens and papers upon it. But Harnan did not have a vote on the council, Dejanus reminded himself, and so was unimportant. He nodded to the secretary and then took his position near the entrance, standing as erectly as possible and giving full effect to his size. As each of the councillors arrived he caught their attention, smiled grimly as befitted the times and nodded confidently at them. Some of the councillors—mainly members of the Twenty Houses—ignored him, some seemed surprised—and one or two even a little dismayed—by his attention, but many smiled back and seemed reassured that he was there. He did a quick count. He thought he would have more votes than he needed, as long as Orkid and the two priests backed him up. After their little chat, he was sure Orkid would not vote against him, at any rate, and the primate and his secretary would follow the chancellor's lead. The only obstacle remaining was the queen, who could veto any council decision if she so desired. Areava had exercised that prerogative very rarely, though, and never on major issues.