The Sword Of Angels (Gollancz S.F.)

by John Marco

  ‘Looking after you is work, girl, believe me. Do you want a drink or not?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mirage, taking the cup out of his hand. ‘Thank you.’

  He grinned. ‘Will you be much longer? It is going to get hotter, and Laurella is right – you don’t have to be out here working like a slave. You are the king’s woman.’

  ‘I choose to work, Corvalos Chane,’ said Mirage tartly. ‘And you can do more than just stand around making faces. Gardening is man’s work, too, you know.’

  ‘It may be that, but it is not my work, girl. My work is to see no harm comes to you. So be careful with those shears, will you?’

  ‘You are in a mood today,’ Mirage snorted, then at last took a pull of the cool water. From the corner of her eye she could see the boyish satisfaction on his face. ‘Of course if standing around is too much for you . . .’

  ‘I am fine.’

  She handed him back the cup. ‘Tonight Laurella is going to teach me to sew. What do you think of that?’

  ‘It sounds like great fun.’

  Mirage nodded. ‘After supper then. You’ll be there?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Chane, but a small knitting of his brow betrayed his displeasure. ‘I serve at the pleasure of my king.’

  ‘And you’ve done such a good job, Corvalos Chane, really,’ sighed Mirage. ‘Protecting me from all these flowers. If not for you I might be stung by a bee!’

  Laurella and Sela heard her joke and laughed. Mirage studied Chane’s face, watching cracks develop in his stony fac¸ade. He was a handsome man, her bodyguard, or he might have been if he wasn’t so thin. His face, like the rest of his body, held no fat at all, just taught skin stretched over his strong bones. The hot sun and her constant sarcasm made his scalp turn red.

  ‘The king cares for you, girl,’ he said. ‘He would not have anything happen to you, or I would be the one to answer for it. So beware of the bees, please. The thorns, too.’

  Was it a sweet thing to say? Mirage wasn’t sure. So many of Chane’s statements were couched in mystery. Despite their tension, they had become close during the month of Raxor’s absence, a fact that amazed Mirage. He was the one who had captured her, after all, and taken her to Raxor. But he had also saved her from Asher, and since then there was an unspoken attraction between them. He had told her once that he could never have a woman of his own. Still, he was a man, and his eyes revealed his desires.

  ‘I’ll be only an hour or so more,’ she told him. ‘We’ll break for a meal then.’

  Chane nodded as though disinterested, letting her return to her work. Mirage went back to her place in the garden, quietly trimming back the rose bushes. Occasionally she felt his eyes on her, admiring her, but when she looked up he glanced away, without the slightest trace of guilt to give him away. The hour passed slowly, and by the end of it Mirage and Sela were both exhausted and hungry. They looked hopefully at Laurella, who nodded as she rose from her bench.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ she said. ‘We can stop now.’

  Happily Mirage laid down her shears and began to stand, and then noticed a man hurry into the garden, running up to where Corvalos Chane stood. He was a soldier, one of the guardians Mirage often saw around the castle, and his face was drawn with worry. Mirage and the others stopped, instantly alarmed as the man began talking, struggling to catch his breath. Chane listened, though Mirage could not hear what was being said. She watched as Chane’s expression lost its usual apathy, collapsing suddenly with disbelief. His mouth dropped open as the man spoke. Mirage stopped breathing, sure something terrible had happened.

  Corvalos Chane looked stricken. His eyes moved purposelessly around the garden, as if lost. The soldier stopped talking. He stared at Chane. Mirage froze.

  ‘What is it?’ she called from across the garden.

  Chane ignored her. He dismissed the soldier, then turned and slowly left the garden. Shocked, Mirage looked at Laurella, but the old housemaid simply shrugged. Young Sela went to stand beside Mirage.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘Where’s he going?’

  Mirage was determined to get answers. ‘Wait here,’ she told Sela, then hurried out of the garden after Chane. She caught up to him quickly just outside the garden wall. He did not turn to look at her, but kept walking toward the castle, his face emotionless.

  ‘Chane?’ she queried. She grabbed hold of his sleeve to stop him. ‘Wait!’

  Corvalos Chane stopped walking, and very carefully took her hand off his arm. ‘Don’t touch me. I have to go.’

  ‘Go where?’ Mirage insisted. She looked ahead, toward the soldier scurrying back toward the castle. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘No one. He’s no one.’

  ‘What did he tell you?’

  Chane fought to control himself. He looked at her, then quickly looked away. ‘Prince Roland is dead,’ he said. ‘King Raxor is on his way home.’

  Mirage stepped back. ‘What?’

  ‘The king . . .’ Chane could barely speak. ‘His army – they were defeated.’

  ‘Defeated?’ It seemed unbelievable. ‘Raxor?’

  Chane looked disgusted. ‘Did you not hear what I said? The king’s son is dead.’

  ‘I heard you,’ said Mirage. ‘I . . .’ She caught herself. ‘I am sorry.’

  Chane shook his head. ‘His only son . . .’

  Once again he turned away, walking slowly as if through a haze. Mirage took a step after him, then stopped herself. Her own shock tied her tongue into a knot. The heartbreak on Chane’s face frightened her. Behind her, she heard Laurella and Sela approaching. What would she tell them?

  Under the perfect blue sky, Mirage watched Corvalos Chane leave.

  As she always did since Raxor’s departure, Mirage ate her supper with Laurella and the other maids, late at night after the royals had all gone to sleep. Tonight, however, the usual bawdy conversation around the table was stunted by the terrible news of Prince Roland’s death and the even more unbelievable fact that the king’s great army had been defeated. Because she was an outsider still, Mirage heard very little about what had actually happened, and though all the servants listened earnestly to the talk among their masters, they still had almost no idea of what had actually happened. Mirage ate sparingly, saying little as she contemplated the awful truth about what Baron Glass had done. The rumours that reached her and her servant friends were filled with tales about the ‘Black Baron’ and his evil armour, and how he had been the one to murder Prince Roland. The thought curdled Mirage’s appetite so that she pushed her potatoes around her plate without tasting them.

  Corvalos Chane had not come to her, either. Mirage supposed he was somewhere in the Castle, mourning the loss of his king’s son. Like many in Hes, Chane had no real love for the prince, but his love for King Raxor was boundless and Mirage was sure he shared the old ruler’s pain. She imagined what Raxor might look like now, broken and defeated, his only son slain in the most horrible fashion. He had been kind to her and Mirage had been looking forward to his homecoming, but now she dreaded it. The news of his defeat fell over Castle Hes like a blight.

  That evening, she did not go to her rooms as usual, but instead walked the corridors of Castle Hes in search of Corvalos Chane. The king’s relatives had all gone to the parlours to discuss the bad news of the day, leaving the castle ghostly and quiet. What had been a long day ended in a blood-red sunset, visible from the castle’s many windows. Mirage paused to watch the crimson dusk disappear into darkness, wondering where Corvalos Chane was hiding. He would not be pleased to see her, she was sure, but she was drawn to him tonight. She needed his quiet strength.

  She inquired about him to servants she passed in the halls, and when they claimed to know nothing she left the castle to survey the grounds, where a sharp-eyed page boy told her he had seen Chane a few hours earlier, taking a horse from the stable. Mirage cursed her bad luck, sure that Chane would not be back before the morning. She stood in the courtyard, alone with the page, unsure i
f she should wait or simply go to bed.

  ‘Did he say where he was going?’ Mirage asked the boy.

  ‘Master Chane doesn’t speak to me,’ laughed the boy. ‘Sorry, Ma’am.’

  He excused himself and then was gone, leaving Mirage confused. She was angry too, because King Raxor had ordered Chane to look after her and in the whole past month he had barely left her side. Now that she needed him . . .

  ‘No,’ she said, stopping herself and feeling bad for cursing him. She wasn’t a Reecian, after all, and could not really know the depth of his pain. Suddenly she found herself wandering, not wanting to go back to her rooms. She felt like a foreigner again, unwelcome.

  He’ll come back eventually, she told herself.

  He just needed to be alone, just for a while, to deal with the terrible news. So Mirage went to the stable where she was sure Chane would reappear. Like everything in Castle Hes, the stables were enormous, and manned day and night by rough-looking hands who eyed her suspiciously when she stepped through the wooden gates. The ground, pitted with horseshoe marks, smelled of horse manure. A few lanterns hung in the stalls. The boys who had finished their hard day of work squatted in a circle in one of the stalls, playing a dice game. They all stopped when they saw Mirage. The look on their faces spoke of desire, the kind Mirage was still unaccustomed to. She glanced away, gazing at the stalls and the resting horses until a man – a soldier – called to her from across the way.

  ‘My lady? Have you need of anything?’

  He had a brush in his hand and was grooming a horse, a big, chestnut coloured beast that whinnied at his loving attention. Mirage paused, taking a moment to remember him. She had only seen him briefly when he’d come into the garden to deliver the terrible news.

  ‘No,’ she said. Then, ‘Yes. I’m . . . looking for someone.’

  Did he know who she was? Most in the castle did, but never took the time to speak to her.

  ‘There’s only me here, my lady,’ he said, ‘and the boys who work here. Who are you looking for?’

  ‘My name is Mirage,’ she offered.

  He nodded. ‘I know who you are, my lady.’ He surprised her with a smile. ‘You are the king’s woman.’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. She had been called that so often it no longer offended her. ‘Sir, I am looking for Corvalos Chane. Have you seen him tonight?’

  ‘You were with him in the garden, when I told him the news.’ The soldier looked inquisitive. ‘You heard by now, then?’

  ‘Everyone has heard, but I don’t know the details,’ said Mirage. ‘That’s why I am looking for Corvalos Chane. Where is he? Do you know?’

  ‘He has gone,’ said the man. ‘He rode out hours ago but didn’t say where he was going.’

  ‘Just like that? He just left?’

  ‘Just like that, my lady,’ said the soldier. He let the hand with the brush drop to his side. ‘I was unlucky enough to give him the news. I’ve never seen his face like that, not in all my life. And I have known him a long time.’

  ‘He’s supposed to protect me,’ said Mirage impotently. She laughed at the notion. ‘That must sound silly to you, but he surprises me. To leave without a word to me . . .’

  ‘He has much on his mind, my lady. The king will be return in less than a week. I am sure Chane does not relish seeing him.’ The soldier set down his brush and stepped away from his horse. ‘My name is Donil,’ he said.

  Mirage returned his smile. He had that rare quality among the people of Castle Hes, a genuine kindness. ‘The folk of the castle have kept me in the dark all day, Donil,’ she said. ‘Will you tell me what has happened?’

  ‘To Prince Roland, you mean?’

  ‘To the prince, yes. And to the king.’

  Donil shook his head. ‘It’s not for a woman to hear, my lady.’

  ‘But I must,’ said Mirage. ‘I have waited all day to hear the truth of what happened, and I cannot sleep at all until I know. Please, Sir Donil – if Corvalos Chane is not here to tell me, then won’t you?’

  The soldier studied her face, considering her request. ‘You’re a Liirian, I’ve heard,’ he said. ‘I suppose you have a right to know what your countrymen did.’

  ‘Then you have heard wrong, Sir Donil, for I am not a Liirian and the men that did this deed are not my countrymen. Forget what you’ve heard about me, please. I’m neither a Liirian nor the king’s whore.’

  ‘My lady, your pardon,’ said Donil without offense. ‘But you were a consort of Baron Glass. I have heard that correctly, at least.’

  ‘A consort? No,’ Mirage corrected. She thought of going further but stopped herself. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. Please . . . tell me what happened at the river.’

  ‘I know only what the king’s riders told us,’ said Donil. ‘They came ahead of his army.’

  ‘They arrived this morning?’

  Donil nodded. ‘Just before I saw you and Chane in the garden, my lady. It was decided I would tell Chane what had happened. A bitter duty, believe me, but he is well with me.’

  ‘You are friends?’

  Donil laughed. ‘No, madam. Corvalos Chane counts no one as his friend. He serves only his master. But we talk, and if anyone in Castle Hes knows his mind then it is I, I suppose.’

  ‘I have never seen him the way I did this morning,’ said Mirage. The memory of his face rattled her. ‘And it isn’t just because of Prince Roland. Tell me – how bad was the defeat?’

  ‘The defeat was total, my lady. The king was lucky to escape alive, I think. I don’t know how many men died. Hundreds at least. But they say your man Glass—’ Donil corrected himself. ‘Baron Glass. They say he was unstoppable, my lady, like a thing from hell.’

  The description made Mirage freeze. ‘They say that?’

  ‘Those who survived, yes. The rumours of him are true, then. Do you see now why the whole castle trembles tonight? If Baron Glass comes, there will be no way to stop him.’ Donil looked at her strangely. ‘Unless you know of a way, my lady.’

  ‘Me? Why would you ask me such a thing?’

  ‘As I said, I hear things,’ said Donil. He glanced around, lowering his voice. ‘My lady, you need to be careful.’

  ‘Why?’ Unable to help herself, Mirage looked over her shoulder. ‘What are you telling me?’

  ‘Just keep yourself safe until Chane returns, is all. There are people talking.’

  ‘Donil, what people?’ Mirage demanded. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Donil smiled, determined to say no more, and turned back to his waiting horse. ‘Chane should be back by the morning,’ he told her. ‘Until then, do yourself the favour of staying out of sight.’

  His words frightened her. And perplexed her. She had a thousand questions for the enigmatic soldier, but his manner told her not to ask them. Mirage looked suspiciously around the stable. Nothing seemed out of order. The stable hands continued with their dice game. The horses rested happily. It felt late suddenly, and oddly cold.

  ‘I’ll go now then,’ said Mirage awkwardly.

  She watched Donil. The soldier didn’t turn around, but gave her a cheery farewell.

  ‘Sleep well, my lady.’

  *

  Mirage had got used to Corvalos Chane around her, and without him to protect her she found sleep almost impossible. With only her Akari to keep her company, Mirage lay beneath the expensive sheets, staring at the copper ceiling and wondering about the riddle Donil had set at her feet. Kirsil wandered in and out of her mind, as perplexed as her master as to the meaning of the soldier’s words. Were they in danger? Laurella didn’t think so, nor did any of the other maids. Castle Hes was in mourning, and the thought of anyone doing harm to Mirage in Raxor’s absence seemed unthinkable to Laurella, who insisted that Mirage go to bed after her wanderings through the courtyard. Mirage sighed and turned her head to glance out the open window. She had pulled the wooden shutters wide apart to let in the meagre breeze. Moonlight spilled into her opulent chamber. The world was rema
rkably quiet, and Mirage could clearly hear her own heartbeat, thumping uneasily in her chest.

  Kirsil? Are you there?

  The young Akari replied, I am always here, Mirage. You know that.

  ‘Yes,’ Mirage whispered. She did know Kirsil was always with her, though sometimes she needed reassurance.

  You should sleep now, said Kirsil. Try, at least.

  ‘Where’s Chane, do you think?’ Mirage asked. ‘Do you think he’ll return?’

  Of course. He must return. He is pledged to the king. And to you now, Mirage.

  ‘Yes . . .’

  The spirit’s words did little to comfort Mirage. But she was tired and it was very late, and soon her eyelids grew heavy. Half fighting it, she began to slip toward slumber, at first restlessly, then more deeply as her exhaustion won out. The gentle noises outside her window lulled her, and she began to dream.

  Mostly, she dreamed of Thorin. She dreamed of how he had once been, when he was kind. He had loved her and comforted her. Even before she had changed her appearance, he had showed her kindness. In her dream she longed for him, as though her dream had unlocked a passion she had long kept suppressed. She missed the old man.

  The dream faded, and Mirage slept. An hour passed without her notice and then another, and in her mind she heard the sound of scraping. She ignored it, but when it came again her eyes fluttered open. She felt Kirsil jolt through her mind.

  Wake up! said the Akari.

  Mirage bolted upright with a gasp. ‘What?’ Her pulsed raced and her eyes scanned the room. Through the dark and silvery moonlight, she could barely see at all. ‘Kirsil? Was that you?’

  Mirage, look!

  ‘What?’

  And then she saw him. He sat at the edge of her bed, one leg casually crossed over the other, staring at her with his manic gaze. His hands were clasped over his knee. The whiff of a demented smile curled his lips. His scarred face twitched when their eyes met.

  Mirage went numb. The door to her chamber was closed. He was alone, though she couldn’t tell for certain. She raised the sheet over her bosom, unable to speak.