The Whisperer (23 page)

Griff laid the last of the weapons into the fire and noticed as he did so that the bravado had gone out of Snark. It was obvious he was in pain and feeling sorry for himself but the leader of the Stalkers seemed to have lost all sense of authority or ability to intimidate. Now he just looked like a hurt, ugly little man with no courage…only a vestige of the sort that comes with being in large groups and with someone at his mercy.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Tyren raged, his face as red as a ripe cherry.

‘I know who this is now,’ the head Stalker snarled, filled with bitterness, ‘and I know it’s not worth my life to challenge him. He can take us all on and not one of us would be left standing…and the worst part is, he wouldn’t kill us but we’d lose arms, legs, bits of ourselves. You’ve seen what he’s done to my ear. That’s nothing to what he’s capable of. No, I know this man and his reputation too well.’

Griff returned to stand by the man’s side. He grinned up at him and the stranger frowned momentarily. He shook his head. ‘Take your friend, whoever she is, and scare off the horses as best you can, but first save one for each of you. Let the Stalkers at least have to look for their mounts. Quickly, Lute,’ he added.

It was Griff’s turn to frown but the stranger had already looked away.
Did he call me Lute
? he wondered.
How odd.

‘I demand to know your name,’ the showmaster said, filled with frustration.

‘It seems I’ve been recognised anyway, so it’s of little matter. You can ask your companion later. But you should know now that I am a servant of the Crown—just as Master Snark is—except his idea of service has become a little skewed.’

‘I don’t know anyone from the palace so your name would be meaningless to me anyway,’ Tyren spat.

‘But not to these men, it seems,’ the man replied evenly. ‘You have made a wise decision, Snark, especially as it would have given me immense pleasure to hurt more of you for what you have done to this magnificent creature here and for what you planned to do. Sadly I don’t have time to care about you, so you may now go and look for your horses. These two we shall keep,’ he said, his chin pointing at the pair that Tess and Griff held the reins to.

‘That’s theft,’ Snark threw back.

‘Go and complain to the King,’ the stranger replied, untroubled by the accusation. ‘Mount up,’ he continued, turning to Tess and Griff. ‘What about the centaur?’

‘He says he’ll manage,’ Tess answered.

‘He’s as brave as he is magnificent,’ the stranger said, looking at the centaur.

To Griff’s surprise, and he knew Tess was taken aback too, Davren bowed low to the mystery man.

Tess couldn’t hide her shock.

Whether the stranger knew that a centaur bowing to a man was not done, Griff couldn’t tell, but he was pleased when the
stranger returned the gesture, bowing equally low to the forest creature.

‘I’ll carry that one, shall I?’ he said, straightening and pointing at the sagar.

‘Hopefully he’ll let you,’ Tess said, smiling shyly and the man returned her smile.

‘Let’s see, shall we? Does he have a name?’

‘It’s Elph.’

‘Fancy a ride, Elph? Come on, big fellow, you look dead on your feet.’ No-one was surprised when Elph obliged to being handled by a stranger, and once sitting on the horse’s back, cradled by the man’s arms, he looked almost comfortable, and curiously small, against the tall newcomer.

‘I’m sure that’s a first,’ Griff said and picked up Helys, who was once again a soft pink. She was feeling safer already, he was pleased to see.

‘Was that a veercat I saw in the trees above me?’

Griff grinned. ‘His name’s Rix.’

‘I can’t wait to hear your tales, my boy,’ the man said. ‘But for now, ride like the wind.’

They’d somehow reached the tiny beach, the cove that Bitter Olof spoke about was just around the tip of land that jutted out a short way into the sea. But their pursuers had also reached the beach, barely moments later, and right at the front of them was a smug Duke Janko, with three armed mercenaries and two dogs growling at their handlers to let them off their leashes.

Lute wasn’t worried by the dogs. They were not fighting animals, simply trackers and were unlikely to attack them. He was, however, swallowing hard over the arrows trained on them. There weren’t that many men in truth—just the four—but there might as well have been four hundred because they were armed and his companions were not only unarmed but one was badly injured, and the other would be ineffective against these hardened fighters.

‘Hello, Lute,’ Janko said and his tone was syrupy. It made Lute’s flesh crawl. ‘My, my. When we found your red scarf I thought you were dead—’

Ignoring the Duke, Bitter Olof turned to Lute with a look of great apology. ‘We were so close,’ he murmured. ‘I’m so sorry, your highness.’

Lute took the dwarf’s lead and ignored Janko as obviously as Bitter Olof had. He knew his uncle wanted him dead and gone and he had no intention of listening to the man’s feigned simpering for a moment longer. He would be stoic and he would die as bravely as Pilo had. He looked at the dwarf. ‘Don’t be sorry. This is not
your fault. It wasn’t even your fight. You’ve done everything you could to help me. No-one could ever question your loyalty to the Crown, Bitter Olof. I feel proud to have known you and if I had a sword I would knight you here and now for services to your King.’

The dwarf gave him a bow.

‘What are you doing?’ Janko snarled.

At this Bitter Olof turned, his face a sneer. ‘I’m bowing to my King, you dolt.’ Lute was cheered to see the triumph on the dwarf’s face.

Janko’s expression darkened and his smugly smiling face turned angry as his lips thinned. ‘King? Here is your King!’ he yelled, jabbing himself in the chest. ‘You bow to me alone from hereon. You!’ he said, pointing to Little Thom, ‘Bow to me!’

Little Thom looked up, letting out a tired sigh at the pompous, snarling man on the horse and without saying a word simply shook his head.

‘You dare to defy me?’ Janko howled.

‘Olof,’ Little Thom said wearily under his breath. ‘Stand behind me. You may have a chance to save our King.’

The little man paused and then nodded at Lute with sad resignation. ‘Then this truly is farewell.’

‘I’m sure we’ll get up to no good together in the next life,’ Little Thom replied, not taking his gaze off the riders, but in a voice tinged with sadness. ‘Be quick, his patience has ended, for there is no further sport in this for him.’

‘What are you doing?’ Janko asked.

‘Run, Lute, straight into the sea but head for the point, swim beneath the surface if you can,’ Bitter Olof urged. ‘And don’t look behind. Go!’

Lute ran and heard Janko give the fearful orders.

‘Kill them!’

Splashing into the sea, he ran as hard as his legs could possibly propel him. Just before he dived into the waters he disobeyed Bitter Olof and glanced behind.

And what he saw was Little Thom, in an effort that seemed beyond human capability, shielding their progress with his great
frame for as long as he could stand, whilst the Duke’s men fired arrows into his back.

‘No-ooooo!’ Lute screamed and then the salty waters swallowed him.

They’d ridden west on the fringe of the forest as fast as they could go. Tess assured them that Rix had faithfully followed high in the trees and it was nearing midday after a lot of hard, silent riding before the man had slowed them and led them deeper into the woods to a narrow brook that gurgled with a comforting sound.

‘We can water the horses here,’ he said, ‘and we could probably all use a rest. I’m presuming none of you have slept in hours.’

‘Or eaten,’ Griff admitted, sliding off his horse and helping Helys down. She and Elph instantly began to forage, whereas Davren and the horses moved directly to the water. Davren drank greedily and Tess followed suit, kneeling down to cup water in her hands and gulp it down. Her beautiful golden hair was wet from trailing in the brook and she looked bedraggled and weary. But her eyes were shining and he guessed it was with the pleasure of freedom.

The man’s first thought, apart from unsaddling and tethering the horses, was Davren.

‘Let’s have a look at this wound, shall we?’ he asked, looking to Tess for permission.

She nodded. ‘He trusts you.’

‘Good, because I need to see if it’s worse than it looks.’ He glanced at Griff and his gaze softened. ‘What? Not even so much as a hug, eh?’

‘Er,’ Griff looked baffled. ‘Forgive me, er, sir, but everything’s happened so fast. Tess and I, well, I don’t know what we’d have done if you hadn’t come along when you did, but I do know that right now we’d be in chains and being led back to Master Tyren’s Travelling Show.’

‘Is that where you’ve been?’ the man asked, looking completely confused now. ‘Why didn’t you go where you were
supposed to?’ His tone was suddenly abrupt. ‘You can’t take chances like that. You are too important!’

Now Griff was mystified. ‘Look, er, sir, I’m not sure what—’

‘And why do you keep calling me “sir”, for Lo’s sake? If you can’t hug an old friend hello, the least you can do is use my name.’

Tess sidled up to Griff. He knew she was feeling just as bewildered and also suddenly frightened again for both of them—all of them. Surely the kind stranger wasn’t going to turn into some crazed captor himself?

Griff bit his lip. ‘I would, sir, if I knew it.’

The man was tethering the last of the horses but he rounded on Griff now. ‘This is a jest, is it? Am I supposed to be laughing with you or is it some joke I don’t understand?’

Griff took a deep breath. This was turning more odd by the moment. ‘My name is Griff, sir. This is Tess. We’ve told you the names of the creatures—’

The man looked back at him as though he had said something very daft. ‘Griff?’ he repeated.

‘Yes?’

‘No, I mean, you said your name is Griff?’

‘Yes, sir. Is something wrong?’

‘I’ll say! I don’t understand. What’s happened?’ he said, frowning. ‘You’re acting as though you don’t even know me.’

‘I don’t think he does,’ Tess said, trying to help. ‘Who are you?’

‘Lute,’ the man replied, his tone filled with injury now. ‘Lute, it’s Pilo.’

Griff stared back, none the wiser for that information. ‘Master Pilo, I—’

‘No, just Pilo. That’s how you know me,’ the man corrected, his expression sagging.

‘I’ve never seen you before in my life, er, Pilo. I honestly don’t know you.’

The man looked as though Griff had just slapped him.

‘And his name’s not Lute. This is Griff.’

‘What have they done to you?’ Pilo asked. He turned to glare at Tess. ‘What have you done to him?’ he demanded.

‘Nothing!’ she hurled back at him. She shook her head. ‘We’re friends. I hardly know him to have done anything to him.’

‘I have to get you help,’ Pilo said, advancing on Griff. ‘A healer needs to see you. Have you banged your head? Taken a fall? Have those men brainwashed you?’ He grabbed Griff’s arm.

‘Wait!’ Griff yelled. ‘None of those things have happened. You’re mistaken. I’m not who you think I am.’

‘I think I know the Crown Prince Lute when I see him!’ Pilo said, indignant.

‘Crown Prince?’ said Griff and Tess together, dismayed.

‘Well, actually, King, if I have anything to do with it, your highness.’ Pilo glared at his young companions. ‘Why are you staring at me like that?’

Tess started to explain but Griff stopped her. ‘No, wait. Master Pilo. Please listen to me. I am not who you think I am, but I do know who you’re talking about. And I know him because I’ve just been speaking to him and he’s in trouble.’

Now Pilo looked at Griff as though he really had slid into madness.

‘I can prove what I’m saying,’ Griff added.

‘I’ll humour you, but I realise I have to get you some help. You’ve obviously lost your mind.’

Tess sat down. ‘If you have any food in those saddlebags, Master Pilo, I would appreciate even a small hunk of bread, but either way, you are going to be still and listen to what Griff has to say. Please.’

Pilo tossed the saddlebag he was holding to her. ‘Help yourself.’ He turned his disbelieving, now angry gaze on Griff. ‘I’m listening.’

Griff gathered his thoughts. This wasn’t going to be easy. ‘You’re Pilo, aide to Crown Prince Lute. He thinks you’re dead, he’s sure you were killed by Duke Janko on the morning the Duke’s men deliberately startled Lute’s filly…er, I think her name is Tirell. You saved Lute and the horse before anything bad could happen and you forced him to leave you, to take Bruno, your horse, and go to a place called Tarrow’s Landing. Is that right?’

Pilo nodded, ‘But—’

‘There is more you should know,’ Griff said, cutting across whatever Pilo was going to say. ‘He was attacked by bandits and your horse was stolen.’ Pilo’s eyes clouded. ‘Lute was hurt too, but not badly enough that he couldn’t move. He was found by some other men and taken to a place where he met a dwarf who goes by the name of Bitter Olof.’

Tension left Pilo’s face at the mention of the dwarf’s name. He looked relieved. Griff continued, telling Pilo everything. But now came the hard part. ‘Master Pilo, Lute is in trouble now. The last time we spoke Duke Janko was hot on the heels of Lute and his friends. The man called Little Thom was seriously injured with an arrow wound and they couldn’t make it to a place called The Devil’s Smile.’

All the while he’d been talking Griff had watched Pilo’s expression change into what he could only describe as silent awe. He stopped talking and waited.

Pilo said nothing initially, just gawked at him.

‘Aren’t you impressed?’ Tess demanded, munching on some bread. She laid a hand on Griff’s arm and smiled encouragingly at him. ‘I am.’

Griff grinned his thanks.

‘How can you possibly know this?’ Pilo finally asked. ‘You must be Lute, only Lute could know of my horse’s name or the fact that I’d told him to find Bitter Olof.’

‘Your enemy,’ Griff added for good measure.

Pilo nodded. ‘Yes, my sworn enemy.’

‘Except he wishes he could make amends, Master Pilo. Er, I hear that Bitter Olof has never forgiven himself and that if not for him and the blood debt he owed you, Lute would likely already be dead.’

Griff watched Pilo’s jaw grind.

‘Do you believe me now?’

He shook his head with wonder. ‘I don’t know what to think. I have to believe you. But until now, I thought I was talking to Lute.’

‘Well,’ Tess said, frowning. ‘If you know all that he has said is true then if he were Lute, he would be with Bitter Olof now. He can’t be in two places at once.’

‘Exactly,’ Pilo replied, his tone now filled with awe. ‘And yet you cannot know all of this unless Lute is with Bitter Olof.’

‘Which proves I’m Griff and here with you, while Lute right now is trying to shake off the Duke’s men.’

‘How do you talk with Lute?’ Pilo asked, frowning.

Griff took a deep breath. ‘I can eavesdrop on people’s thoughts. I hate having this talent but I can’t do much about it. I was born with the skill. And it’s through this magic, I suppose you’d call it, I first heard Lute’s call for help. I can now link to him and talk to him through our minds.’

Pilo stared at Griff, his expression a mix of confusion as much as wonder. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing, yet I have no choice but to believe this because all the evidence suggests you have been talking to Lute. But how much do you know about your own family, Griff, because now it’s my turn to stun you.’ He reached into a pocket, pulled out a palm-sized disc of porcelain. ‘I lost my family a few years ago. The royal family became my new kin, you could say, and Prince Lute filled the terrible gap that came when I lost my own child. He’s a great fellow, will make a fine king if we can help him to outwit Janko. Here,’ he said, offering it to Tess, who was closest to him. ‘The palace artist was doing some portraits for the King and Queen and this was something spare he did on a whim. The likeness to the Prince is accurate. See for yourself.’

Tess stared at the disc in silence. She handed it to Griff without a word but her face told him that something had shocked her. He took the portrait sketch and stared at it. There had to be a mistake.

Pilo cleared his throat. ‘I say again, how much do you know about your family, Griff?’

Griff looked up, his throat turning dry as his gaze met Pilo’s. They were both thinking the same thing.