‘You want me fire an arrow at Kest?’
‘Not just one, as many as it takes. You keep firing until he stops moving.’
‘He can’t parry an arrow, Falcio.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘he can.’ I walked towards Kest. ‘You just keep shooting until he stops moving.’
Kest kept his sword on Shuran as he let his gaze drift towards me. ‘Why did you take off your coat, Falcio?’
‘If you kill him, I’m next. Give me your sword, Kest, or else fight me.’
Kest’s eyes narrowed. ‘You think you can beat me? Without even the protection of your coat? Falcio, I think you might be going a little insane.’
‘Let’s find out.’
His expression changed, just a bit, as if he were suddenly confused about where he was. He was close to coming back to us; I just wasn’t sure if he was close enough. I took another step forward.
‘Falcio, stop . . .’ Then he said, ‘I don’t want to kill you.’
‘Nevertheless, those are your options.’ We were almost in range of each other now. Damn me, of all the deaths I’d ever envisioned for myself – and I have a very inventive mind – this wasn’t one of them.
Kest looked at me and then at Shuran, his lips moving as if he was talking to himself, and I could see them forming the word ‘no’ over and over again. Suddenly he brought his sword up high in the air and tilted the point down, towards Shuran’s chest. The angle would allow him to use his tremendous strength to drive the blade straight through Shuran’s chestplate.
‘No!’ I screamed and, cursing myself, I leapt towards him in a long lunge.
Kest beat away my rapier effortlessly and tossed his own sword lightly in the air, flipping it over so that he could grab the blade and aim the pommel at Shuran. He brought it down on Shuran’s chest like a farmer trying to drive a stake into the ground. A sound like the clanging of a church bell filled the courtyard, and when I looked back at Shuran he was still on his knees, but reeling mightily from the blow. There was a small circular indentation the size of Kest’s pommel on the left side of Shuran’s chestplate. Kest had marked exactly where his point would have gone: straight into Shuran’s heart.
My best friend looked at me, his mouth quivering and his eyes uncertain, then he turned to the Knight-Commander of Aramor and said, ‘I yield!’ before falling unconscious to the ground.
*
A considerable amount of chaos followed. The moment Kest fell, Shuran’s men took up positions in a circle around the two opponents, with five men guarding Shuran while the others stood over Kest’s body. I ran to him, but several of Shuran’s men made it quite clear that I wasn’t going to get through them. Brasti, Valiana and Dariana joined me and together we faced off with the Knights.
‘Stop,’ Shuran said, breathing so hard he could barely get the word out. He removed his helm and I could see sweat dripping down his forehead, giving an unnatural sheen to the burnt side of his face. ‘It’s done. No one is dead and no one needs to be.’
‘Step aside and let us see to our man,’ I said.
The Knights moved closer together. ‘This mad dog of yours is our prisoner now,’ one of them said. ‘He tried to murder the Knight-Commander of Aramor.’
‘There’s something wrong with him,’ I said. ‘He’d never—’
Shuran cut me off with a wave of his hand. ‘This was a duel, fairly fought,’ he said to his men.
‘But Knight-Commander,’ one of the Knights said, ‘this man—’
‘First positions behind me!’ Shuran barked and the Knights, moving in perfect unison, shifted from a circle around Kest to a line of men standing four feet behind Shuran. The Knight-Commander took a step back to give me room and I knelt down next to Kest. When I felt for the beating of his heart I found it slow, slower than mine by far. But was that normal for Kest now? I had no idea, never having had a Saint for a friend before. He had an unworldly look to him now. The red glow of his skin hadn’t so much disappeared as turned inwards, as if he’d been standing out in the sun for several days. His skin was dry, almost burnt.
‘What in hells is wrong with him?’ I asked.
I hadn’t been expecting a reply, but to my surprise, Shuran spoke up. ‘It’s Saint’s Fever, I think.’
Brasti came forward to join me. ‘What is that, a joke? Saint’s Fever is just redberry sickness – it’s a child’s ailment!’
‘Parents call it Saint’s Fever because the symptoms are similar, but there really is a Saint’s Fever, and it’s named that for a reason. There aren’t that many written sources dealing with the nature of the Saints, but I’ve read something that speaks of a kind of ailment that builds inside them. How long has it been since Kest last bound himself in a sanctuary?’
‘I . . . I’m not sure I even know what you’re talking about,’ I admitted. We’d not exactly had the leisure for researching Kest’s new condition since he’d taken on Saint Caveil’s mantle.
Shuran looked at me as if he doubted my words for a moment. ‘You’re telling me he hasn’t bound himself? Not since he murdered the previous Saint of Swords?’
‘It was no murder but a duel, fairly fought,’ I pointed out. ‘Caveil was trying to kill us.’
‘Still, why has Kest not—?’
Brasti stepped forward. ‘What we’re telling you, metal man, is that we have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.’
The Knight-Commander looked back down at Kest, his eyes wide. ‘Gods! No wonder the madness was upon him. I can’t believe he managed to hold it back as long as he did—’
‘What is this sanctuary you’re talking about?’ I asked.
‘A church – any church. He has to spend three nights inside until—’
‘He can’t go into a church,’ I said. I wasn’t likely to forget our last encounter with Trin any time soon. ‘He couldn’t pass the stone circle.’
‘That’s how it works,’ Shuran said. ‘You need to go to a church and ask the cleric to remove one of the stones, then Kest will be able to pass through. The cleric will replace the stone and reconsecrate the circle—’
‘Won’t that trap him inside the church?’ Brasti asked. A pertinent question, I thought.
‘That’s the point: he’ll be bound inside the sanctuary. The force that burns inside him must be held in check. A Saint must be humbled by man’s church to be saved. If the stories are true, after three days the cleric can remove the stone once again and the Saint will be able to walk the world, once again able to control the divine madness.’
‘You know an awful lot about Saints,’ I said.
‘Doesn’t every man who aspires to become something greater than himself?’
The almost dismissive answer didn’t sit well with me, but looking down at Kest’s face reminded me we had more pressing concerns. His skin was returning to a more normal pallor but there was something thin and worn about him. ‘What do I do now?’ I murmured, almost to myself.
‘Nothing,’ Shuran said, stepping back from us and sheathing his sword. ‘I’m no expert, but from what I’ve read he should be fine for a while. When the fever strikes it is . . . well, pronounced, but its passing should leave him in control for some time. However, I would advise that once your business with Duke Isault is complete, you should find Kest a sanctuary.’
‘Shit,’ Brasti said. ‘Doesn’t sound like being a Saint is all it’s made out to be in the stories.’
Shuran smiled. ‘Few things are. And yet I imagine for those called it’s hard to resist.’
I thought back to what Kest had been shouting at the beginning of his fight with Shuran. You think the hunger isn’t written all over your face when you look at me? ‘And you, Sir Shuran? Do you feel the call to become the Saint of Swords?’
‘Right now the only call I’m heeding is the one to return to my Duke,’ Shuran said. ‘Sir Lorandes, if you wouldn’t mind?’
One of the Knights broke out of formation and walked over to the horses. Without a word he took the reins of
Shuran’s steed and led him back to us.
‘The rest of you will travel to the Ducal Palace together,’ Shuran said. ‘I’ll see you when you arrive, tomorrow or the next day.’ He turned and looked at his men. ‘On my honour, not one of my men will seek to do Kest – or any of you – harm.’
‘But why is it so important that you leave right now?’ I asked. ‘Why are you going ahead on your own?’
‘Because I have been summoned by my lord and instructed to proceed with all speed. I can reach the palace a good deal faster if I’m travelling by myself. I follow the Duke’s commands, Falcio. That’s how it works.’
I was standing close to him and he towered above me. I kept my focus on his eyes. ‘And what if the Duke decides to betray us?’
To his credit, Shuran didn’t blink. ‘Duke Isault is the ruler of Aramor. If he decides to go back on his agreement with you then there’s nothing I can do about that.’
‘So you’ll betray us if he asks.’
‘You really don’t understand Knighthood, do you, Falcio? If the Duke commands it, it won’t be a betrayal.’
I had no small amount of admiration for Shuran, and in another life, who knows, perhaps we would have been friends. But at that moment the only thing running through my mind was, Saints, how I hate Knights. ‘So you expect us to just waltz into the palace and hope it’s not a trap? If Isault’s planning on selling us out to Trin, what’s to stop him from capturing us or killing us to seal the deal?’
‘Duke Isault would never do that,’ Shuran said firmly. ‘If he changes his mind and decides to back Duchess Trin instead of Princess Aline he’ll tell you to your face and send you on your way. He won’t order me to arrest you, not unless you attack him first.’
I looked around at Shuran’s men. There were five of us and ten of them, so decent odds. We could take them if we had to – assuming, of course, that Kest awakened from his current slumber.
‘I’ll swear this much,’ Shuran said. ‘If you come to the palace, I will personally guarantee your safety.’
‘And what if Isault orders you to attack us? You’ll – what? Refuse?’
The question was pretty obvious to me, and yet Shuran was clearly troubled by it. Eventually he said, ‘Then I’ll renounce my Knighthood and do what I must to ensure my promise to you is upheld.’
‘What about your precious honour then?’ I asked.
He put his foot in the stirrup and mounted his horse. ‘If the Duke tells me to attack those he’s sworn to treat with fairly, then my honour won’t be worth a black penny any more.’
He kicked his horse and left me standing in the inn’s small courtyard feeling somehow both betrayed and yet ignoble. That was quite a feat.
Chapter Fourteen
The Betrayal
A few hours later found the five of us back on the road, riding alongside Shuran’s Knights in deathly silence. We’d been halfway through constructing a litter for Kest – all Greatcoats learned a variety of useful knots for such eventualities – when he’d awakened from his fever. The red glow was completely gone now, but it had been replaced with a grey pallor; it might have simply been exhaustion, but I couldn’t help but worry it might be something more deadly. He sat astride his horse – you couldn’t even call it riding – and stared at the ground passing below like a hung-over man reflecting on the wages lost in a drunken game of dice.
Sometimes I slowed my own mount so that Kest could catch up, each time hoping he would talk to me, help me understand what was happening to him. But each time he just held up a hand and muttered, ‘Not yet.’
And so we continued on our way.
A steady rain began to fall and the roads, ill-maintained since the King’s death, became slick and dangerous, forcing us to slow even more for we could not risk the horses.
The drudgery of our pace affected us in different ways. I was thankful for the watchful eye Dariana was keeping on the Knights riding ahead of us, though none of them had yet decided to disobey Shuran’s order. Brasti had sunk back into a black mood, still brooding on what he saw as a betrayal of the villagers in Carefal.
Only Valiana saw fit to speak to me. ‘We did the right thing, you know.’ She pulled her horse up next to mine. ‘In the village, I mean.’
‘“The law is the law”,’ I said, though the words sounded more like a taunt than the comfort they were supposed to be.
She reached out and rested a hand on my arm. ‘People will only believe in the laws if they see them enforced.’
‘We just enforced the law on a group of brave women and men who wanted nothing more than fairer treatment from their Duke.’
‘That’s just the point,’ she said. ‘The Dukes were wrong, but so were the villagers. They acted as they did because they saw no other choice. That’s what’s wrong with this country, Falcio. People see no other choice than to take as much power as they can and use it for themselves.’
‘Says the girl who not so long ago planned to make herself Queen.’
I instantly regretted my words; she had done as she’d been raised to do and none of this was her fault. I was about to apologise when I realised she wasn’t as hurt as I’d expected.
‘If I had been made Queen, I would have found a way to bring the Law back to Tristia – that’s what the monarch is supposed to do. It’s what King Paelis did, isn’t it?’
‘Until the Dukes had him killed, yes.’
‘And what has it brought them? The country is poorer now, the roads more dangerous. The Dukes are no richer than they were before, but now what part of their fortune they don’t lose to brigands they spend on spies to keep watch on each other and more Knights to fill out their armies, and all the while paying their men less and less.’
‘Knights don’t get paid, remember? They serve for honour.’
Valiana ignored my sarcasm. ‘Look at Shuran’s men, then think back to those we saw back at the palace. Did you notice that several of them were greybeards, well past their prime? Knights used to be given gifts of land after their years of service so they could retire and live in peace and prosperity. Isault’s not doing that, is he? And neither are any of the other Dukes, not now. They all keep adding more Knights to their rosters, but without rewarding the ones they have.’
I hadn’t considered that before now, but she was right. Despite all the stories of Knights and their honour and brave deeds, to us Greatcoats, Knights were nothing more than hired thugs with pretensions to nobility. It had never occurred to me to think of them as men who had hopes and dreams of a life outside the confines of their armour. I supposed it was probably easier not to think of them at all, given how often I’d had to fight them. I shook my head to clear the thought from my mind. ‘If you’re asking me to feel any sympathy for the Ducal Knights—’
‘You should have sympathy for anyone who suffers,’ she countered. ‘In Rijou you told me that nothing is worse than sitting back while evil prospers. Shouldn’t you be able to show some pity for these men, too?’
I thought about Aline, and how impossible it was going to be to make her Queen, and about Trin, who was out there somewhere merrily creating chaos in the world. I thought about the rest of the King’s original hundred and forty-four Greatcoats who were scattered to the winds, alone or dead, or worse, turning to banditry to survive. I thought about Kest, who was even now suffering under this sainthood that had turned out to be a huge curse. And I thought about the fact that when I laid my head down on my pillow tonight, I had no idea if I would ever move again.
Then I looked at the ten Ducal Knights of Aramor in front of us. Each of them would happily turn on us right then and there and slit our throats for no other reason than we were Greatcoats, were it not for the command of one man.
‘Fuck the Knights,’ I said.
*
Three more days and enough rain to convince me that every God in Tristia had taken this opportunity to piss on my head brought us back to the courtyard of Duke Isault’s palace. We were soaked to the bone as w
e waited in the never-ending downpour for one of the watchmen to seek out Sir Shuran.
‘You’ve arrived safely,’ the big Knight said, striding towards us from the wide arched doors to the palace. His freshly polished armour gleamed, in studied contrast to our sodden, grimy coats. ‘I understand you made it back without incident.’
I noted that Shuran had been followed by the usual coterie of heavily armed men who were now standing around him with their weapons drawn. Kest stepped forward, his hands held out to show that he wasn’t holding a weapon. ‘Sir Shuran, I behaved . . . inappropriately. The actions were mine and no one else knew I would—’
‘What? Call me a coward and a traitor? Challenge me to a duel for no particular reason and then do a remarkably good job of trying to put a sword through my heart?’ He tapped a finger on the indentation in his chest plate. He had done an amazing job of polishing his armour to a mirror-shine, but he hadn’t bothered to beat out the dent. ‘You’ve given my enemies an awfully precise target, Saint of Swords.’
Kest nodded. ‘I will accept any punishment you deem necessary, so long as my friends—’
‘Enough,’ Shuran said. ‘I might be fascinated by the Saints but I’ve got a low tolerance for martyrs. You were beset by the Saint’s Fever at the time – and besides, technically I did accept your challenge.’
‘Still . . . I would make restitution.’
Shuran grinned. ‘Good. Let the price be that some day you’ll give me a fair bout when I’m not busy trying to stay alive to do the Duke’s business and you aren’t in the middle of a bloody red rage.’
Kest nodded, and the matter seemed done with, for the moment at least.
Shuran turned to me. ‘I’ll have someone take you to your rooms. The Duke knows what transpired in Carefal. I’m sure he’ll want to see you in the morning.’
The thought of spending the night here made me uneasy. I had no doubt that even now Shuran’s Knights were telling their fellows the story of how close the Greatcoats had come to killing their leader. ‘No,’ I said, ‘I need to finalise things tonight. We won’t be staying at the palace.’
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