Knight's Shadow

by Sebastien de Castell

  ‘Why would a Saint be accursed?’

  ‘The Gods don’t appreciate humans growing above their station, Falcio. Haven’t you figured that out yet? It’s the way of all things in the world: we all have a place and a purpose, and there is a cost to defying it.’

  I looked down at Kest, whose whole body was shaking as he continued his struggle to move, but it was if he were shackled to the ground. Time to take a chance. I stowed my throwing knife back in my coat and put my hands under his armpits and hauled him backwards. Once I had dragged him a foot away he put up a hand.

  ‘I can move again,’ he said.

  ‘Good. Let’s go.’

  He hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the girl.

  ‘I’m not playing her games,’ I said.

  Trin laughed. ‘Silly man, if you won’t play with me then I’ll just get someone else.’ She cupped her hands to the sides of her mouth and called out, ‘Valiana? Come on, sweetheart! Come and play with your beloved Trin!’

  Hells, I should have expected this. ‘Stay where you are,’ I shouted, but it was no good. The sound of Trin’s voice – the woman who had taken everything away from her – might as well have been a rope pulling at Valiana’s neck and she raced to the church.

  When she saw Trin’s face on the girl, Valiana lunged for her without even drawing her blade.

  ‘Stop!’ I said, grabbing the back of her coat and hauling her back to me. ‘It’s not Trin. It’s a trick.’

  ‘I just wanted to see my beautiful Valiana again,’ Trin said, mock-hurt. ‘Besides, who are you to speak of tricks, Falcio? Pretending you had Aline with you and making me send all those men to chase after you? Now that I’ve finally captured little Aline myself, I’ll have to instruct my men to be especially harsh with her.’

  My heart sank. How had the Tailor failed so soon? If Trin had Aline, then the Tailor and her Greatcoats were likely dead – and yet if Trin had won, why bother with this entire performance?

  Trin held a hand by her ear as if listening to something off in the distance. ‘Can you hear that? I think our little Aline has just become a woman.’

  Anger threatened to overtake me but the saner, smarter part of me knew something was wrong. I didn’t doubt Trin would order her men to do such a thing, but I knew that she’d want to be there when it happened. A ruse. It’s a ruse. Too late I understood why she’d called out for Valiana.

  ‘Don’t you dare touch her!’ Valiana screamed, as if her voice could somehow reach through the wooden frame to Trin’s men. ‘You will not touch her! Do you hear me? Don’t you dare touch her!’

  Trin smiled at me. ‘See, now was that so hard?’

  Valiana turned to me, confused.

  I shook my head. ‘She doesn’t have Aline,’ I said. ‘She wanted to know if we did.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be angry with Valiana. I would have found out eventually. Besides, it hardly takes a master strategist to know the old woman has sent you to get support from the southern Dukes, and one of them would have sent word to me eventually that you didn’t really have the girl.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Which Duke are you after first, I wonder? Roset in Luth has the most soldiers. But Isault has more money. Or perhaps grouchy old Meillard in Pertine? It might make sense to start with your own duchy, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘You’re really not as good at this as you think you are,’ I said.

  ‘It hardly matters; none of them will trust the Greatcoats and if you’re smart you won’t trust any of them. It’s really a very cold world we live in, Falcio.’

  ‘Made colder by your presence in it,’ I said. ‘A problem that the Tailor will soon rectify – if your own generals don’t do it first.’

  ‘Now, don’t be mean with me, darling. I went through a lot of trouble to be here with you.’ She looked down at the ground and made a coquettish expression, as if she were a young maid about to ask a boy to dance. ‘I have a gift for you, Falcio.’

  The girl’s hands opened for the first time. Cupped inside them was something that looked like a small, yellow-white piece of stone half the size of a fingernail. She held it out to me.

  ‘I had it polished just for you. It was quite brown and ugly when we found it.’ When I didn’t move Trin said, ‘Come. Take it. It cost me a great deal of time and money to acquire it. It’s from your wife Aline.’

  I felt the air in my lungs grow cold. Trin knew. She knew about Aline, and how the King had named his heir after her. I’d been a fool to think that Trin or one of her people wouldn’t find out about my past eventually. Despite the risk, I took a small piece of black cloth from my coat, one I used for cleaning my blades, before reaching out and taking the tiny thing.

  When I held it close to me and looked inside the cloth I saw that it was a tooth. She’s given me one of my wife’s teeth.

  ‘I’m told it was found inside a tavern where it’s been for – oh my, I suppose it must be fifteen years now. I thought about putting it on a little chain for you but that seemed old-fashioned.’

  My hand squeezed around the cloth and the tooth so tightly I thought either my fingers would break or the tooth would crumble to dust. Kest’s hand was on my arm. He knew how close I was to drawing my sword and stabbing Trin through the neck. But of course she wasn’t there and all my rage and frustration would serve only to kill the poor girl Trin was using.

  Very slowly and very carefully, I opened my hand and took the tooth from the cloth. Then I turned and threw it as far as I could into the desert.

  Trin made a tsk-tsk sound. ‘Now is that any way to treat a gift? And especially one so rare? Never mind. I have another. I’ll keep it safe for you so that it’s ready when the time comes.’

  I started to speak, but then noticed something was happening. The skin of the girl’s face began to grow paler and her eyes became unfocused. A tear slipped from Trin’s eye down her cheek. ‘Oh, stop, you simpering child, it’s almost over.’ She sighed. ‘It seems my little Cantissa hasn’t long left. The magic is very hard on such a frail young body.’

  ‘Fine. You’ve made your point. Let the girl go.’

  ‘Have I made my point, Falcio? I’m not sure I have, and it’s so very important for you to understand: Cantissa is like Tristia itself. She’s foolish, underfed, and exists only to die in whatever service her betters require. This is the world we live in, Falcio – a place where even an innocent girl has no hope of a life free of the machinations of Dukes and Knights and Saints. Honestly, why would you even bother fighting for such a terrible place? Better to leave it behind. Better to leave it to me. I have armies and influence and more money than you can possibly imagine.’

  ‘If you have so much power, then why are you so concerned about me?’

  ‘Silly man. It’s not about you – it never has been. It’s about what other people do because of you. You inspire people to take foolish actions, Falcio – actions that could become bothersome for a new Queen.’

  ‘The only throne you’ll take is the basest seat in the lowest, darkest hell I can find for you.’

  The girl’s hands moved to her hips as if she were about to scold me. ‘Well, if you’re going to be like that, my tatter-cloak, then I’ll just have to say goodbye!’ Trin’s smile widened and her hands reached up to the wooden handles of the screws pressed at each side of the girl’s temples. Before I could reach out she gave them a full turn.

  ‘Stop!’ I screamed. Valiana and I both ran towards the girl, but before either of us could reach her she stumbled back into the church and I saw her turn the screws twice more. She fell to the ground and her body began to twitch.

  I heard someone running towards us: Brasti was behind me, bow in hand. ‘What’s happening?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong with the girl? Who is she?’

  ‘Leave it,’ Kest called from outside, but I walked inside the church. The girl’s face was her own now. Cantissa had the plain features of a farmer’s daughter: small round eyes above a slightly flat nose. Those eyes were wide and full of fear now.
Blood seeped out from the sides of her head where the screws had pushed through her skull and her body trembled in little spasms. I knelt down and held her to my chest and tried to quiet her shaking until Cantissa finally let go of the world.

  Chapter Eight

  The Road

  The landscape became greener over the next week as we made our way through from the southern edge of Pulnam to the northern tip of Aramor. The desert to the east kept watch on us even as the brown brush and sand that bounded the wide road was gradually replaced by the thick fields of grain and barley that signalled Aramor’s age-old prosperity.

  Each morning I awoke unable to move, unable to speak and unable to see, and each morning I told myself that the time I spent in that condition wasn’t getting any longer, that this was like a fever that would pass on its own some day soon.

  For the first few mornings, I imagined that Cantissa was there with me, her hands reaching but never touching the iron screws topped by short wooden handles that were slowly being driven into her skull. Sometimes I imagined her face changing into Aline’s.

  There was nothing I could do for my King’s daughter now. I had to hope the Tailor and her Greatcoats were keeping her hidden and safe. My focus had to be on Aramor, and Duke Isault. Only by securing his support could I give Aline the chance she needed to become Queen. The Tailor’s words echoed in my ears: ‘Aline must be protected so that she can take the throne. Nothing else can stand in the way of that. Nothing will.’

  When we finally crossed into the northern edge of the Duchy of Aramor I signalled a halt. ‘We should let the horses drink,’ I said, bringing one leg over the saddle and stepping down to the ground.

  ‘I don’t care what you say, Falcio,’ Brasti said, dropping down from his own mount and walking over to join me, ‘I’m sleeping in an inn tonight. I’ve had enough of the cold desert wind chilling my balls.’

  ‘Your balls could do with chilling,’ Dariana said, still on her horse.

  Brasti looked up at her with a disgusted expression. ‘Have no fear, Dari, my dear. You chill my balls plenty as it is.’

  His words rang false. Dariana was quite pretty in her way, though I could never quite bring myself to call her attractive – she reminded me a little too much of the Tailor. Brasti, on the other hand, had more – well, cosmopolitan tastes in sexual partners. During our time on the road he’d been making frequent and increasingly elaborate overtures to Dariana, most of which included a recitation of his virtues that, if true, would have stretched the boundaries of natural laws. For her part, she obviously found him repugnant, and she took every opportunity to remind him of that – which, to me at least, was her most endearing quality.

  ‘Someone’s coming,’ Brasti said, pointing down the road.

  ‘Where?’ I asked.

  ‘About two hundred yards.’

  Valiana joined us, her hand on the hilt of her sword. ‘I don’t see anything.’

  ‘Listen.’

  After a few seconds the rest of us could make out the sound of a horse cart, its wheels making bumpy progress along the trade road.

  ‘Hide, fight or flee?’ Kest asked.

  I looked at Brasti. ‘Are there other horses with the cart?’

  ‘No, I doubt it’s anything more than a merchant.’

  ‘Keep close to the horses,’ I said.

  A minute later an old man rode along, sitting on top of a wagon pulled by two sorry-looking mules. ‘Greatcoats, eh?’ he said, pulling to a stop.

  I nodded.

  ‘Got redweed,’ he said. ‘Good for sore gums.’ He peered at us as if trying to see our teeth.

  ‘Thanks, but we’re fine,’ I said.

  ‘Got lots of other things. Stems from jackroot; that’ll help with joint pain. Give you a little boost with the ladies in the bargain, or so my customers tell me.’

  ‘Again, no.’

  He let go of the reins and pulled the blanket up from the back of his wagon. There were dozens of jars and boxes there. ‘Can’t tell me you don’t need anything for healing,’ he said. ‘Fellas like you? Must get into all kinds of scrapes. How about some black thelma? Does a fine job on bruises.’

  ‘I . . .’ A thought occurred to me. ‘Have you got anything for neatha poisoning?’ I asked.

  ‘Neatha? You sure you got the right name?’

  ‘Yes, neatha.’

  The old man shook his head. ‘Might as well ask if I’ve got a cure for rain. Stay out of it, that’s the cure. Neatha’s lethal, son. One whiff and you’re gone. Not a bad way to go, or so they say. Not sure how “they” would know though.’

  ‘All right. Have you ever heard of a man being paralysed in the morning, after his body’s been still for a few hours?’

  ‘How long does it last?’ he asked.

  ‘A few minutes. Maybe as much as an hour. Followed by stiffness in the limbs.’

  ‘I think they call it old age, son.’

  ‘It’s not that, it’s—’

  ‘Doesn’t make a difference either way,’ he said. ‘Neatha’s fatal. A man’s exposed to it and he dies. It’s that simple.’

  ‘I was exposed,’ I said. ‘And I’m still moving.’

  The old man took up the reins of his mules. ‘If you got hit by neatha then you’re dead, son. Your body just needs a bit of time to figure that out, is all.’

  ‘Cheerful old bastard,’ Brasti said. He looked at the sun starting to slowly set in the sky. ‘I need a drink. Hey, old man,’ he called out. ‘Is there a town with an inn close by?’

  ‘Shalliard,’ the man shouted back. ‘Three hours the way you’re headed. Assuming you don’t fall off your horse and die first.’

  Brasti grinned. ‘Well, I think at least some of us can manage that, can’t we?’

  *

  We spent that night in a small inn called the Golden Bell, and the following morning I awoke to the sight of my King, which was remarkable, since he’d been dead for more than five years. His form was blurry and dark, which made sense seeing as my eyes were still shut. I couldn’t make sense of his features nor his clothing, yet there was something so distinctive about that thin, bony frame and the ungainly posture that always made me think he was about to tell a dirty joke.

  White light began ever so slowly to fill my vision and I realised that my eyes must be opening. I was coming out of the paralysis. Oddly, my hallucination became sharper, and for a brief moment I could see King Paelis as clearly as if he were just inches away from me. He looked just as he had the last time I’d seen him, in that cold tower above Castle Aramor where he’d spent his last hours. His gaze was gentle and he opened his mouth. I was surprised that I could hear his voice so clearly. He said only four words before my eyes opened fully.

  What he said was, ‘You will betray her.’

  The harsh rays of morning light banished my vision, and the King’s face was replaced with that of Kest.

  ‘Can you move yet?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so,’ I said.

  ‘Rest a minute.’

  Sound advice. ‘What are the others doing?’

  ‘Brasti went hunting. He said there’s some kind of wild pheasant in these parts that’s prized by the nobles of Pulnam. I think he misses being a poacher.’

  ‘What about Valiana?’ I asked.

  ‘Same as always – practising. Dariana’s a good teacher, despite her odd fencing style. I still can’t quite place it.’

  ‘A mystery for another day,’ I said, leaning on my elbow and pushing my way unsteadily to my feet.

  Kest gave me a hand. When I was standing he looked at me and said, ‘It was twelve minutes this time.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I already knew the answer; I just didn’t want to think about it right now. The first time I’d awakened trapped in my own body, the paralysis had lasted just a few seconds. Then it was a full minute. Now it was twelve.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Kest asked.

  ‘Nothing. We make our way to the Ducal Palace of Ar
amor and knock very softly and politely at the gate. If all goes well, we’ll secure Isault’s support and then move on to Luth and Pertine and whomever else we need to put the King’s heir on the throne.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Then? Then we get me cured and find something else to worry about,’ I said, grinning.

  Kest shrugged and helped me pack up my bedroll. In my mind I imagined an island I’d heard of just off the coast of Baern in the warm southern sea, and a woman with dark hair and a pretty face with tiny wrinkles around her eyes who had given me respite and hope when I’d needed it most. Let me see Ethalia once more before the end, I thought. That’s all I ask.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said. ‘Aramor awaits. Saints willing we can do this without screwing up the entire world.’

  In case I’ve never mentioned it before, in Tristia the Saints only answer the calls of the very rich, the very powerful, or those blessed by the Gods. I had never been any of those things.

  Chapter Nine

  The Duke

  By midday we’d arrived at the Ducal Palace of Aramor and knocked politely at the gate to give the guards the papers that ensured that we’d be brought in to see Duke Isault unharmed. So much for courtesy: before we’d really had a chance to take in the palace sights we were surrounded by two dozen Knights in full armour, their swords drawn in a singularly unwelcoming manner.

  ‘Brasti, the next time you feel it necessary to put an arrow through a Knight’s chest,’ I said, my voice as calm as I could make it, ‘try not to do it in front of twenty of his fellows.’

  ‘Or at least kill more than just the one,’ Dariana suggested.

  The five of us stood face out in a tight circle inside a massive stone courtyard, looking at what I was pretty sure was a detachment of Ducal Knights. They gripped their two-handed warswords and began to close in on us, step by step. Sometimes they would stop, as if waiting for an order from their captain, and then invariably one of them would say something threatening and advance towards us, just an inch or two, and the others would follow. From above I imagined we must look like a troupe of dancers not yet sure when to begin the performance.