Speak again and I will see you dead, I swore as I struggled to hang onto Valiana.
‘What ails her?’ Pastien finally asked. He went so far as to rise to his feet, but he wasn’t actually coming to help.
‘She’s been poisoned,’ Brasti said, trying to hold her ankles again. ‘Now go and find out why that damned doctor isn’t here yet!’
The sound of light footsteps from the hall reached me, followed a moment later by the sight of Aline running into the room, Tommer close behind her. I shouted, ‘Don’t come in here!’, but I was too late: Aline was staring in horror at what remained of the woman who had saved her life so many times. I saw more fear in Aline’s face then than in all the times her own life had been in danger. ‘Oh, no—’ she whispered, then she turned and fled the room.
It’s not her fault, I told myself firmly, tying to ignore the profound sense of disappointment that was washing over me. Of course she’d run – she’s seen too many of the people she cares about hurt.
‘Tommer, you leave as well,’ Duke Jillard said, rising to his feet.
‘What ails my sister?’ Tommer asked.
‘The woman is clearly mad,’ Duke Hadiermo said, coming round the table to face Valiana, ‘and I call a vote of this council to remove her as Realm’s Protector.’
‘Get the hells away from her, you fool,’ I warned, barely able to cling on to Valiana’s arm.
‘Perhaps this is not the time, Hadiermo,’ Jillard suggested laconically, which made me wonder exactly what he was planning. The Duke of Rijou always had a plan.
The Iron Duke of Domaris reached out a thick, meaty hand and attempted to clamp it around Valiana’s jaw – only to pull it away bloody and missing a chunk of flesh from the heel of his palm where her teeth had ripped into him. ‘Take this madwoman into custody!’ Hadiermo commanded his guards. ‘A night in a cell will sort her out.’
‘She’s losing her mind, you fat arse,’ Brasti said. Then Valiana’s wild flailing caught him in the side of the head and he fell to the floor. She kicked out again and her heel caught Hadiermo on the hip. She was spitting and foaming at the mouth, her eyes looking everywhere and nowhere at once.
‘My blade!’ Duke Hadiermo called to his retainers and instantly they hefted the two-handed greatsword and started towards him. ‘I will save us all a great deal of—’
He stopped speaking as he noted the tip of a short, thin sword at his cheek. The room fell silent, except for Valiana’s mad shrieking, as all eyes turned to the small hand holding that blade. There was not even the slightest suggestion of a tremor.
‘The next man to lay hands on my sister faces me in the circle,’ Tommer of Rijou, standing a full two feet shorter and a good two hundred pounds lighter than the Iron Duke, said, his young voice clear as a bell.
*
It has long been a puzzle to me how the Dukes of Tristia manage to keep their family lines intact when they seldom show any signs of caring for anything beyond their own power and sense of entitlement. In this one respect, Duke Jillard was different: he very clearly loved his son.
‘Back away, Hadiermo,’ he said now. He hadn’t raised his voice, but his intent was clear.
The Iron Duke didn’t bother to hide his disdain. ‘See what has become of this nation? You would let your boy issue threats against his betters?’
‘He isn’t threatening his betters,’ Jillard replied. ‘He’s threatening you. Now step away from the Realm’s Protector and be very, very careful that you don’t inadvertently touch my son as you do so.’
It says something rather terrible about our world, that as I stood there trying desperately to hang onto Valiana, whose crazed thrashing was losing none of its force, I found myself admitting to some small shred of respect for Jillard.
‘The hells for all of you,’ Hadiermo said at last. He signalled to his retainers and turned to leave the room, nearly running over the doctor, who was finally rushing in, her healer’s case clutched in both arms. He pushed the small woman out of the way, not caring that he’d nearly knocked her to the floor, then turned and yelled, ‘Better to have summoned the veterinarian to deal with this creature!’
Doctor Pasquine’s composure was remarkable as she set her case on the table and opened it. ‘Keep her steady, if you can.’ She removed something small and shiny and then opened a small vial and carefully poured some of its contents onto the object.
‘What in hells is that?’ Brasti asked. ‘And what took you so damned long?’
The doctor carefully held up what looked like a three-inch long very narrow knife. The contents of the vial could be seen sitting in a groove that ran the length of the blade. ‘I had to get an inunction blade,’ she replied. ‘It’s the only way to get the fluid into her vein.’
‘You’re going to cut her?’ I asked, my mind spinning back to the Dashini Unblooded and their long, thin needles. This isn’t the time for reminiscences, I told myself. Focus.
‘We need to calm her and this is the fastest way. Now keep her steady or I’ll end up slicing her vein open.’
We did our best, while the rest of the room watched. Always fascinating to watch someone else suffer, isn’t it, your Graces? I thought bitterly.
The doctor gripped the inunction blade tightly, like a knife-fighter about to face her opponent, and with a single, precise thrust she drove it into Valiana’s arm.
‘How long?’ Kest asked, grunting from the effort of keeping Valiana still.
The doctor didn’t answer; she was peering at her patient, looking concerned. ‘Something’s wrong. The amount I gave her would put a pony to sleep – she should already be unconscious.’
‘Give her more,’ Kest said, a growing urgency in his voice.
Doctor Pasquine shook her head. ‘I can’t – too much could kill her.’
‘She’s going to die if you don’t,’ Kest said. He turned his head to me. ‘Falcio, she’s not weakening.’
At first I didn’t understand. ‘So? Just hold her. If you’re tired—’
‘No, look at her, Falcio: Valiana’s barely half our size and it’s all we can do to hang onto her. Her muscles and joints can’t take this kind of strain – she’s going to tear her arms from their sockets.’
‘What can you do?’ I pleaded with the doctor, and without a word she refilled the groove in the tiny blade and drove it into the vein. This time I could feel something happening to Valiana but whatever it was, it wasn’t affecting the madness that was driving her.
‘It’s not working,’ Doctor Pasquine said. ‘It’s as if there’s something more than poison doing this, something almost—’
‘Spiritual,’ said Ethalia from the door, her face pained as if she were standing too close to a fire. She was leaning a hand on Aline for support. She looked down at my girl. ‘You were right to bring me, my Lady, Ethalia said. ‘This is an enemy that all of us must face together.’
*
Ethalia walked over and stood behind Valiana, then reached out her hands and placed them on either side of Valiana’s face – only to fall back against the table, moaning.
Tommer rushed over to help her stand. ‘Lady, are you—?’
‘Wait,’ Ethalia said, her breath coming in and out in quick gasps, almost as if someone had punched her in the stomach. I watched helplessly as she steeled herself and again stepped forward and once again placed her hands on Valiana’s cheeks.
At first, Valiana bucked all the more and I was afraid that Kest was right, that she’d simply tear her arms from their sockets, but a few moments later I felt the strain against my grip lessen and the spasms fade a little.
‘It’s working,’ Brasti said, clutching Valiana’s legs. ‘Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.’
‘I don’t know what I’m doing,’ Ethalia said, breathing in ragged gasps. ‘I’m just . . . trying . . . to—’
Suddenly Valiana shook again, not as badly as before but enough that I nearly lost my grip on her arm. Sweat was dripping from Ethalia’s jaw. ‘I’m
. . . It’s like I’m trying to grab onto water. She keeps slipping from me. I’m losing her!’
‘Falcio,’ Brasti said, his face bruised from Valiana’s kicks, ‘look at Ethalia – she can’t take much more of whatever it is she’s doing.’
‘Someone needs to take my position,’ Kest said. ‘I can’t grip Valiana properly without my right hand – I’m losing hold of her.’
‘You,’ Jillard said to one of his guards, ‘do as he says.’
The guard hesitated, but not for long; you don’t survive in Rijou by disobeying the Duke. Kest ducked down a little to let him seize Valiana’s arm. ‘Steady,’ he warned, ‘she’s stronger than she appears.’
The guard looked irritated as he took his position. ‘I think I know how to hold a—’
He fell back abruptly, blood flowing from his nose where Valiana’s wild swing had struck it. ‘Saint Forza’s bloody—’
‘Hold your position, damn you,’ I shouted.
The guard piled back in again and finally managed to get a grip on her. She’d started snapping her teeth at him like a wild dog – we’d need to gag her if this went on much longer, or else risk that she would tear someone apart. I forced myself to look at her, hating myself for wishing I could cover her snarling face.
Gods help me, I thought, as a terrible little seed that had been growing in my mind finally blossomed into the blackest of all flowers.
I turned to Kest, gagging even before I could get the words out. The mere thought of what I was about to say was forcing the bile to rise up in my throat. ‘Kest, I need you to—’
‘I can’t hold on,’ Ethalia screamed. ‘Oh sweet one, I’m so sorry, I can’t hold on to you!’
‘What do you want me to do?’ Kest asked me.
Valiana screamed again, a horrible hissing sound, and this time I could tell her throat was giving out from all the abuse it was taking. Ethalia’s face was streaming with tears as she lost the fight to hold onto Valiana’s mind. Everyone else was looking at me.
You will make her wear it, the note had read.
‘Bring me the iron mask,’ I said.
*
As I held the foul thing in my hands, the cold iron froze my blood and the rough edges bit into my palms, a sharp contrast to the finely crafted brass clasping mechanisms on the sides which signified finesse, precision, intent. This was a thing made only for torment and despair.
Damn all you Gods to every hell there is. Don’t make me do this.
‘Pull her away from the table,’ I said, my own voice as cold and hard as the metal mask.
Brasti and Jillard’s guardsmen hauled her forward, although she was pulling away hard, the joints in her arms straining so badly I expected to hear them tear apart at any moment.
Think of another way, damn you! There has to be some other—
‘I need you to hold her head,’ I told Pastien, Ducal Protector of Luth, but he didn’t move.
‘Kest only has one hand, damn you! He can’t hold her head – get behind her and do it!’
Still he didn’t move. His mouth was frozen in horror at what I was asking him to do. His words from hours earlier – Sir, would you grant your assent for me to court Valiana? – rang hollow to me now.
‘Get out of the way, you fool,’ Jillard said, pushing him aside. He gritted his teeth and held out his hands, then pressed them against Valiana’s head, keeping it still. I was about to turn to Kest, but of course I didn’t need to say a word; he already knew what had to happen next. He took the back side of the mask and took up position next to Jillard.
Valiana’s mouth was open wide, though no sounds came out any more, for she had pushed her throat well past its limits. I held up the mask in front of her face, erasing her eyes, her mouth. She wouldn’t be able to see once I put it on her, wouldn’t be able to speak . . .
There might be some medicine, my mind screamed at me. The doctor could be wrong about this! You might be—
‘Now,’ I said, and Kest and I simultaneously closed the mask over Valiana’s face. A sickening thunk announced to the room that the two pieces had mated together. I heard another faint clack: Valiana had tried to bite through the shallow metal cone that now kept her from closing her mouth.
I have taken away her ability to speak.
I turned the clasps, first on the right side, then on the left, and just as Kest had predicted, each one broke off as soon as the bolt had tightened, locking Valiana inside. The mad bucking stopped abruptly. Valiana fell forward into my arms and the iron mask struck me square in the mouth. I tasted blood.
I didn’t care.
Kest put two fingers to her neck. ‘Her heart’s beating almost normally.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘But how could an iron mask counteract a poison? There must be some sort of mystical aspect to—’
‘You did it,’ Pastien said, edging closer to us. ‘Her madness has passed. She is . . . calm.’
‘I did it,’ I repeated, but the words meant something very different to me. I had just sealed the girl who was as close as I would ever come to a daughter, the girl to whom I had given my name, inside a mask of infamy.
I was a torturer now. Her torturer.
A hand touched my shoulder and I knew immediately it was Ethalia’s. ‘Falcio,’ she said gently, ‘you did what had to be done.’
Before she’d been a Saint, Ethalia had always known exactly what I was feeling without me having to say it, what words would bring me to my senses. Apparently she had lost that ability.
I let my eyes drift over to Pastien, then to Duke Erris and his retainers, and the guardsmen in the room. ‘Get out,’ I said.
‘Now see here, boy,’ the Duke of Pulnam grumbled, still determined in his dotage to prove he didn’t fear anyone but the Gods, ‘you will not address—’
It was Jillard who cut him off. ‘Best we do as the First Cantor says, Erris.’ He began leading the old Duke out of the room, but paused as he passed me, glancing first at Valiana’s still form in my arms, then at me. A brief flash of something akin to sympathy passed between us: the look of a man who knew what it was to fear for his child. Then the Duke of Rijou gave a slight shake of his head, which, along with the words that came next, told me that our brief alliance was at an end. ‘Besides, my dear Duke of Pulnam,’ he added, ‘there are matters of great importance that we must now discuss.’
With Valiana trapped behind a mask of infamy, the politics of Tristia had turned once again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Curtain
‘The problem with you, darling husband, is that you will insist on drawing your blade before you even know who you’re supposed to be fighting.’
The soft voice jolted me awake. I lifted my head from where it lay buried in Valiana’s shoulder and saw that I was hanging onto her like a sailor believing he could keep the mast of his ship from being torn away by the storm. Someone had installed the two of us on a small purple and silver sofa set against the back wall of the Diplomatic Chamber. I felt slow and sluggish, as if I were stuck in time – a leaf held by the breeze, neither rising nor falling – while the world turned around me.
Brasti paced down the centre of the room, gesturing wildly as he and Kest argued over our next move. In contrast, Tommer stood calmly in front of the locked door of the chamber, his blade drawn, ready to challenge anyone who tried to demand entry. Aline watched him from a chair at the council table. Ethalia leaned against the wall in the shadows in the far corner of the room, facing away from us. She looked . . . thinned, somehow, lessened by the unbearable effort she’d expended trying – and failing – to save Valiana.
I don’t expect I look much better, I thought. My arms were leaden, my legs numb from sitting too long. How long have I been like this? I needed to shake myself out of this lethargy and help the others decide our next course of action – but that would have required letting go of Valiana and I couldn’t do that, not yet.
‘You’ve never been able to let go of people, though, have you?’ The familiar v
oice, a little stern, a little teasing, drew my gaze towards the tall curtained windows that opened onto the palace courtyard. There I found my wife, in front of the long curtains, gowned in their purple velvet folds, her hair fashionably tied back with their silver tasselled cords.
‘If only you’d composed such poetry for me when I was alive,’ Aline said, looking down at her garments. ‘Honestly, husband, can you remember a single time when I wore clothes of such frippery?’ She stroked her blonde ringlets. ‘And what sensible woman would style her hair in such an impractical fashion?’
‘Falcio has always been a poet, silly woman,’ King Paelis countered, and I turned my head to find him leaning against the council table, armoured in glistening oak that flowed up from the polished surface. ‘His blade carves epics of valour across the canvas of this troubled nation.’
Aline’s eyes narrowed. ‘Really, Falcio? And how exactly is conjuring up that skinny wreck of a man in such glorious fashion going to help unmask the enemy? How will you be able to break the iron shackles binding the future if you insist on making such a fool’s paradise of the past?’
It struck me as odd, and more than a little unfair, that my hallucinations were so much more well-spoken than I was. ‘A dream doesn’t have to be real to be worth fighting for, does it?’ Not bad, I thought, Not exactly Bardatti standard, but not bad, either.
Aline threw up her hands, sending ripples along the curtains. ‘So be it. Keep your illusions.’ She walked towards me, the thick fabric of the curtains following behind. ‘But you must see past the distractions your opponent places in front of you. While you fence with shadows, he shapes the world to his own perverse design.’
‘A name, woman!’ King Paelis bellowed, giving voice to the question foremost in my mind, though he was sounding a bit like a petulant youth. ‘Tell us the enemy’s name! Is it Quentis? Jillard? One of the other Dukes?’
‘Perhaps he needs no mask of his own,’ Aline replied. She sat next to me on the arm of the sofa, the bottom of her dress matching its purples and silvers. She was looking at Valiana. ‘He fits his masks to others, and in so doing hides his own face. This is his genius, Falcio. You can’t beat him at this game.’
Saint's Blood: The Greatcoats Book 3 Page 25