Melina Marchetta - Quintana of Charyn

‘Was the palace exactly as Rafuel of Sebastabol sketched?’ Finnikin asked when they were finally seated.

Froi didn’t answer. He didn’t expect them to begin with that question. He had thought they’d skirt around things before they asked him that.

‘Froi?’ Sir Topher prodded.

‘Do you not trust us with that information?’ his queen asked.

‘I trust you with my life,’ Froi said. ‘But if I answered your question, then the people I love in Charyn would never trust me again.’ His eyes met hers and then Finnikin’s. ‘And in my whole time there, I never once betrayed Lumatere. So if there’s no reason for you needing to know how to enter my son’s home, I’d prefer not to speak of the Charynite palace.’

There was silence. Perri was already on his feet, pacing the room.

‘Then what shall we speak about?’ Finnikin asked.

‘The weather is always a safe topic,’ Froi said pleasantly. ‘It could lead into some vital information about the storage of rain-water, and growing produce. We have different terrain to Charyn and what we grow, they want, and what they grow, we may want.’

‘Anything else, Froi?’ Finnikin asked dryly. ‘Any other suggestions?’

‘Well, you have invited me here for a reason,’ he said with a shrug, ‘and I have become used to people asking my opinion, so it’s a bit difficult to hold my tongue.’

Sir Topher sat forward in his seat. ‘And you gave your opinion readily?’ he asked. ‘With them?’

‘Most times. I did lose my confidence once … after I was injured,’ he said, remembering Gargarin discussing Froi’s self-doubt with Lirah that time in Sebastabol.

‘After you were betrayed by a Charynite … friend?’ Isaboe asked.

‘Yes.’

‘An opportunist? This traitor friend?’ Finnikin asked. ‘Did he do it for money? Lucian mentioned what greedy, ignorant Charynites they were, those who placed themselves in charge of the camp dwellers. Do most Charynites betray for money?’

Froi felt himself bristling. ‘Well, firstly, I tend to refer to him just as a traitor these days,’ he said. ‘Not a friend. And … no. Most Charynites don’t betray for money. Most Charynites want to stay alive and hold their children in their arms.’

He regretted the words the moment he spoke them. Caught the pain in Isaboe’s eyes. But there was understanding there, as well.

‘He … the traitor didn’t do it for money,’ Froi said quietly.

‘And you know this for certain?’ Sir Topher asked. ‘Someone just wakes up one morning, Froi? And decides to betray those who trust him? But not for money? And you believe that?’

Froi sighed. ‘No, sir. I’ll explain to you how betrayal happens. A bunch of lads come up with a plan. Quite noble, if not naive,’ he said, thinking of Grijio and Satch and Olivier. ‘And then what happens is that one of the lads gets kidnapped as part of a plan hatched between a neighbouring enemy kingdom and a very secretive organisation …’

Finnikin sighed. ‘If it’s Lumatere and Rafuel’s people you’re referring to, then let’s get rid of the cryptic references. I get so confused when I haven’t slept.’

‘Yes, let’s use names,’ Isaboe said.

Froi nodded. ‘I took Olivier’s place at your instruction, and meanwhile he was held captive underground, guarded by a man, Zabat, who convinced him that he could make a difference. Except Zabat had switched sides and believed Bestiano of Nebia was the best chance for Charyn. And when Olivier of Sebastabol was released, he became what Zabat, not his original captors, wanted him to be. Which led to betrayal.’

‘In what way?’ Sir Topher asked.

‘Olivier withheld the truth,’ Froi said.

Isaboe made a sound of annoyance.

‘He doesn’t seem so naive after all,’ she said. ‘If you’re ever writing to the Charynites, Froi, tell them not to execute the smart ones. They do come in handy.’

He looked up at her again. Would Froi’s rotten corpse be lying somewhere in a ditch in Sorel if Froi was less smart?

Yes, of course it would be, her eyes told him.

Froi smiled, half bitterly, half in amusement that he would think she had lost any of her fight or backbone. That he would think that Lumatere’s charming, loving Queen and her king were any less than they presented. But they didn’t lie about who they were. They just omitted details.

Finnikin retrieved a letter and passed it to Froi. Froi’s heart hammered at the thought of Gargarin finally writing.

‘This came to us yesterday, addressed to you.’

Froi opened it, recognising the writing from a letter Simeon had sent to Lucian.

‘The Priests of Trist,’ Froi said, reading quickly, his heart heavy by the end.

‘Rafuel?’ Finnikin asked.

Froi nodded. ‘They obtained information from one of Donashe’s camp leaders and found Rafuel outside Jidia in a mine shaft with no food and only a little water trickling from a stone – skin and bones. They don’t expect him to live. They want me to pass on the news to the women of the valley as well as Japhra and Tesadora. The Priests of Trist found mad ramblings on the walls imprisoning Rafuel and the names of the women of the valley were amongst them.’

Froi heard Perri’s sound of regret.

‘Tell us about your correspondence with these Priests,’ Finnikin said.

‘The Priests of Trists wrote to Lucian first and I replied on Lucian’s behalf. They wanted to know how the scholars died.’

‘Why didn’t that order come from the Charyn palace?’ Finnikin asked.

‘Because the palace is taking care of political traitors, not personal vengeance, and what happened with the scholars … and Rafuel is about personal vengeance. The Priests had five camp leaders in their prison. They wanted to make sure those who murdered the lads were tried and executed and they didn’t want to get it wrong, especially if there was a chance that Rafuel lived.’

‘Is Rafuel of Sebastabol being alive your business?’ Trevanion asked, looking at Froi. ‘You hardly knew him except for the week he taught you about Charynite customs. You smashed his nose, last I remember.’

Froi felt the regret he always did when he thought of Rafuel these days.

‘Let’s just say that Rafuel and I go back … nineteen years. If you remember anything about the events I spoke about in the letter I gave to Finn … Your Highness, it was that I was smuggled out of the palace as a babe.’

‘By a boy.’

Froi shrugged. ‘Rafuel was that boy. So yes, him being alive is my business. And for all of your information, it won’t do us any harm finding allies in the Priests.’

Isaboe stood and walked to Froi’s side, sitting before him.

‘And that is why we need you, Froi. Talk us through it. What if we want to take a step towards peace? Who has the most power? Gargarin of Abroi? The Provincari? The godshouse?’

‘The Provincari united have the power,’ Froi said. ‘My advice is that you go to Gargarin, but you also establish a relationship with the individual Provincari. Deep down, they’re slightly impressed with Lumateran nobility. Take advantage of that. And then remember that the godshouse is important to the people and if you’re going to impress Charyn, you’re going to want to impress the godshouse.’ He looked at the Priestking. ‘They want nothing more than absolution from the blessed Barakah . They understand the pain that took place here at the hands of Charyn’s army and they know they can’t change the past, but they want to acknowledge it.’

‘How strong is their army now, Froi?’ Trevanion asked.

Froi was dreading that question. His eyes met Trevanion’s.

‘Very strong. United, it’s even stronger.’

‘If they were ever to attack …’ Isaboe asked.