Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1)

by Frances Smith

  "I have difficulty curtsying, Your Highness, please forgive me," Miranda said, lifting the folds of her skirt just enough for the princess to catch a glimpse of her foot.

  "Ah, I see, I am so sorry," Princess Romana said. "Standing too long must be very painful for you, would you like to sit down?"

  "Thank you, Your Highness," Miranda said, allowing the princess to steer her towards one of the reclining couches.

  "Indeed, an excellent idea," Quirian said.

  Princess Romana affixed him with a stern gaze from her purple eyes. "Do you play chaperone today, Pater Quirian? What a man of many parts you are."

  Lord Quirian sighed. "Lord Quirian, if it please, Your Highness."

  "Is that so," the princess said. "Who is your father, pray? Or, if your elder brother has inherited the title, then who is he? Where in Saba do you hold your lands? When were your family first admitted to the College of Patricians, by which Prince Imperial, and for what services rendered to the state?"

  "Prince Antiochus is satisfied with my lineage," Quirian replied.

  "My dear brother would call his horse a patrician if it would win him the purple throne," Romana said. "That he calls you a lord does not make you one."

  Quirian stiffened, his jaw tightening. For a moment Miranda thought he would grow angry, but instead he offered the princess a half-mocking bow and said, "Perhaps I should leave you alone with Filia Miranda, while I go in search of Prince Antiochus?"

  "Yes, that would be for the best, off you scamper," Princess Romana said, waiting until he had disappeared into the crowd of guests before sitting down on a couch opposite Miranda.

  "So," the princess said brightly. "You are the miracle girl, blessed by the gods with unmatched magical power. The girl who is going to make an army for my brother."

  Miranda shifted uncomfortably. "I suppose I am, Your Highness."

  Romana smiled. "I've no doubt that Antiochus and his creatures are paying you very well for the work you are to do for them, but I do hope you will think very carefully about what you are about, and what the consequences may be. Trust what you see, not what my brother's cronies tell you."

  Miranda frowned. "Do you stand with one of the dukes and their factions, rather than for your brother?"

  "I stand for the Divine Empire and the Empress Aegea, which makes me practically a faction of one in this day and age," Princess Romana replied. "Actually, no, that is rather unfair to my supporters, even if their faith is not as iron had as is mine own. But leave that for now, I merely ask you to consider that the best interests of Antiochus may not be the best interests of the Empire, and ask yourself whose interests you would rather advance: that of one man, or that of the country."

  "I don't understand, ma'am, how can the best interests of the Empire not be served by my eliminating the need to send young men to die in foreign fields," Miranda said.

  "It is a great misfortune that we must purchase the glory of the Empire in a cost of blood," Princess Romana said. "And it is true that men are flawed beings and thus make flawed soldiers. But those soldiers, flawed as they are, have often acted as the guardians of all that is best about the Divine Empire, whether that is by mutinying against the needless brutality of the Oretine War, by keeping the faith of Aegea alive, or by preserving the creed on which the Empire was founded though all others have forgotten. The Empire's history offers many examples of occasions when great evil might have been perpetrated had not the better nature of our army come to the fore to act as the conscience of the nation. Please consider, Miranda, what great evil might be done by a man who had at his command an army that would never tell him 'no'."

  "Do I hear you spinning conspiracies behind my back, sweet sister?"

  Miranda looked up. Quirian had returned, accompanied by an elegantly dressed man with slick, dark hair and large blue eyes. She assumed that this was Prince Antiochus, judging by his purple toga and cloth-of-gold tunic and his purple boots. He had a barely visible moustache growing on his upper lip, which was the only disfigurement on what would have been a handsome countenance otherwise, if Miranda had been interested in such things. He looked down upon his sister with a smile that was at once amused and, so Miranda thought, guardedly hostile.

  Romana smiled. "Of course not, brother. Are we not a family united in our love and devotion, the four of us?"

  "Four?"

  "You, me, His Majesty and Jason," Romana said pointedly.

  Miranda did not understand what she had just said, but it must have meant something between the prince and princess because a look of anger flashed in Prince Antiochus' eyes.

  "I do not wish to hear that name mentioned in my presence again," he said, his words emerging between gritted teeth. "You dishonour our mother every time you bring him up."

  "You dishonoured yourself by the way you treated him," Romana said softly.

  "Say no more of this," Antiochus replied. "Or, sweet sister, I may have to hurt you."

  Romana took a deep breath. "Miranda, allow me to present my imperial brother the Prince Antiochus, your patron. Brother, this is your honoured guest and centrepiece of your schemes for power."

  Prince Antiochus smiled jovially, as if he had not just threatened his sister with physical violence. "Delighted, Filia," he took Miranda's hand and brushed his lips against it. "Absolutely delighted. You are as beautiful as you are reputed to be powerful."

  Miranda bowed. "Your Highness is too kind."

  "Are you enjoying the party?" Antiochus asked. "Are you hungry? Would you like to try a snail?"

  "No, thank you, your highness, I do not care for snails," Miranda said. "For myself I prefer oysters, though I could rarely get them in Corona."

  Romana raised one eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Quirian looked a trifle surprised. Prince Antiochus looked more amused than anything.

  "Is that so," Antiochus said. "I myself prefer oysters, but then for men that is more than half expected. For a woman...yes, I imagine that the provinces must have been quite lonely at times for a lover of oysters."

  "A little, yes, your highness," Miranda said.

  Antiochus chuckled. "You will be glad to know, Filia, that here in the capital all tastes are catered for, whether they be for oysters, for snails or for...rarer things besides. Quirian tells me that you have already begun work on my army?"

  "I have, your highness," Miranda said.

  "Excellent," Antiochus said. "Excellent." He laughed. "Talk with my sister, if you wish, but do not take what she says too much to heart. You will learn soon enough that Romana has quite the reputation as an eccentric. Why do you think that, in all this glittering assembly, she is the only one wearing black?"

  "I confess, highness," Miranda said. "I had rather thought that she was mourning your late father."

  Antiochus barked with laughter. "That would be less comical than the truth; tell her, sister, what your garments symbolise."

  Romana smiled. "I am in mourning, Filia, but no longer for my father. I am mourning, indeed, the passing of traditional values and the spiritual decline of this once upright nation."

  Antiochus did not bother trying to contain his mirth at this. "I ask you, Filia, have you ever heard anything so ridiculous in all your life."

  Miranda held her peace, not wanting to either offend the princess or mention that she had, in fact, heard something similar more than once from her brother.

  Antiochus smiled. "I am afraid that I must take my leave of you now, Filia, as this party is for my benefit I must spend the evening mingling with my supporters, but I do hope that you will have an enjoyable evening. Filia Miranda. Sister."

  "Your Highness," Miranda said, bowing again.

  "Brother," Romana said quietly.

  Antiochus turned away and disappeared into the crowd of guests, Quirian trailing behind him, whispering in his ear.

  "So," Romana asked. "What did you think of your patron?"

  "He was very kind, your highness," Miranda said.

&
nbsp; "Oh, yes, Antiochus always treats his pets very while they please him. Would you like me to introduce you around the room?" Romana asked. "I will not say that the best people in the Empire are here, but some of the wealthiest are and that is not a thing to be dismissed lightly these days. You should meet them, while you have the chance. You have a rare opportunity here, Filia, it is not often than a commoner is given the chance to be a player in our games of high politics and statecraft. You should make yourself known."

  "I would like that, thank you," Miranda murmured. "Princess, why are you being so kind to me? I am your brother's woman, and you seem to be...you are not his ally."

  Romana smiled. "I would rather not be your enemy, Miranda Callistus. And so I try to make you my friend instead. Come. I shall play chaperone, in place of Pater Quirian."

  "Do you begrudge him the title so much?" Miranda asked as Romana took her arm.

  "Titles of nobility do not exist to make men of his stripe feel important or powerful," Romana said. "They are a public statement of the honour and glory possessed by our old families, an acknowledgement of the great services rendered by those families to the Empire. That is a currency far too precious to be debased."

  Romana led Miranda across the room, to where a tall, balding man stood holding court amidst a circle of younger fellows. Coming from Corona, nearly everyone in Eternal Pantheia looked a little pale compared with Miranda's experience, but all of these fine nobles and equestrians looked far paler than the citizens out in the street.

  Of course, most of these people have probably never done a day's honest work in their lives. This unhealthy pallor is what staying out of the sun does for you. In fact, as Miranda took a second look around, she found it easy to tell who were the soldiers and who were not: the soldiers had burned under the sun of a hundred battlefields, while their wives, daughters and more mercantile competitors had not. There were not many soldiers present here, but then if there had been then Prince Antiochus would hardly have needed an army of golems to support his ambitions.

  "Lord Maro, gentlemen," Princess Romana spoke clearly and just a little louder than normal. "Allow me to present to you Filia Rebecca Miranda Callistus, of Corona Province. Where precisely in Corona Province are you from, by the way, Filia?"

  "You probably wouldn't have heard of a town called Lover's Rock," Miranda muttered.

  "The Turonim holy site, how very appropriate," Romana said. "Filia, this is Theseus Maro, the present Lord Maro, and his son Acamas."

  Lord Maro was the oldest man present, his hair mostly gone and what was left turned to grey; his eyes were grey as well, as though he had chosen the prince's faction for the appropriateness of it all. He did not bow as he murmured, "Filia Miranda."

  His son, slighter than his father and not quite so tall, with hair of light brown and eyes of hazel, did bow, though only slightly and only from the neck. "Filia."

  Romana gestured to the other men. "And these are my brother's companions, usually they follow so closely at his heels that one might mistake them for his dogs. May I present Gellius of Helenia, Valens Hadrianus, Hippolytus Kyrios and Dio Verra."

  They all murmured their acknowledgement of her presence.

  "So, Filia," Gellius said. "You are the famous mage who is going to help Antiochus onto the throne? I did not expect you to be so young and comely." He looked to be the oldest of the five young men, including Acamas Maro, though Miranda did not think him much older than twenty. His hair was dark and combed to one side, with a raffish moustache obscuring his upper lip. Unlike the other men he was not wearing a toga, but a tunic of cloth-of-gold and a grey cloak slung over one arm.

  "I am what I am, sir, as are we all," Miranda said. "I take it then, that you are not a native of the Empire?"

  "Indeed not," Valens Hadrianus said, a grin playing across his sharp features and lighting up his green eyes. "Gellius here is a barbarian from Helenia, our client state in the north, the son of their king, sent here by his father to be civilised."

  "If I wanted to be civilised I would hardly waste my days in your company, would I?" Gellius replied, to the general laughter of his fellows.

  "So, you are from the provinces, Filia?" Hippolytus Kyrios asked. He was probably the most handsome of the group, with sandy hair and well proportioned features.

  "From Corona, yes," Mirnada replied, becoming a little amazed at the way everyone here talked of 'the provinces' as though they were some singular entity and not a territory spanning length and breadth of Pelarius and beyond.

  "Being here must be quite awe-inspiring for you," Hippolytus continued. "I'm sure you've never known such sophistication before in your life."

  "How many servants get invited to occasions such as these after all?" Dio Verra asked rhetorically. If Hippolytus was the most handsome of the group then Dio was probably the ugliest, with a long nose and straggly hair that nearly obscured his dark eyes.

  "A servant?" Miranda repeated dully.

  "Not a servant, no," Lord Maro intoned. "Perhaps you are more of a hired tradesman?"

  Princess Romana smiled. "Thank you, my lord, gentleman. I am sure that Filia Miranda has found this most enlightening."

  Miranda bowed. "Sirs, my lord."

  Princess Romana introduced her to more guests, some of them nobles but more of them wealthy equestrians, all of whom treated her like either a child, a tool or a servant. Once she realised that most of them would never bother to remember her name Miranda stopped bothering to try and remember theirs. She drowned beneath the weight of their condescension, their arrogance. The scorn of the wealthy equestrians who had asked her to fetch drinks for them, or the pity of the patrician ladies who told her how grateful she must be to have requested from the dreariness of the provinces.

  It was too much, far too much; Miranda shook her arm free of the princess and said, "I am very grateful to you, ma'am, for being so kind to me tonight, but if you wouldn't mind I would like to be alone for a while."

  Princess Romana nodded knowingly. "I understand. A word of advice, if I may."

  "The princess may do as she pleases," Miranda said sullenly.

  Romana ignored her rudeness. "You have met only a part of our society tonight, and amongst the worst of us. After all, to be glib, if these were good men then they would not follow in my brother's wake and whisper in his ear of his rights to the throne in hopes of fair advantage upon his succession. Those who follow Antiochus are vain, callous and arrogant. Think, I beg you, on what kind of man attracts such followers. But do not, I beseech you, judge the whole Empire by what you have seen tonight. There are better men in this country by far than those you have met tonight, even at court."

  Miranda looked at her, frowning. "What would you have me do, your highness?"

  "There has no need of golems to defend it," Romana said. "We have the finest army in the world, if we only knew how to make good use of it, or dared to use it as we know how. The only reason for your being here is to prop up treason. I would have you return to Corona or, if you will not, to use your knowledge of healing to serve the throne and the whole state, not to simply help one man rise higher than he ought."

  Miranda smiled. "I will try and bear your words about the quality of the court in mind, princess, but I fear I do not think so highly of the Empire as you do."

  "No," Romana said with a sigh. "Few do, even when they owe so much to it." For a moment she looked terribly sad, stricken by great weariness, before she rallied with a visible effort. "I do not hope that you will grow to love the Empire as I do, but I do hope I can bring you to appreciate it. Until next time, Filia."

  Miranda bowed. "Until next time, your highness."

  Romana left her alone, but it was not long after that Quirian found her.

  "You are ready to leave, aren't you?" Quirian asked.

  "Yes," Miranda said softly. "I hope that that's all right."

  Quirian smiled indulgently. "Of course, Filia; nothing is more important to me than your happiness. Come."

&nb
sp; He led her back to the palanquin, where his guards were waiting to escort them both back to Lord Quirian's house.

  "So, how did you find your first taste of society, Filia?" Quirian asked.

  "Sour," Miranda replied.

  Quirian chuckled. "The first battle is always the hardest, Filia. It will get easier, in time."

  "Battle?" Miranda asked. "I thought I had been to a party, not a war."

  Quirian's smile was as sharp as a blade. "In Eternal Pantheia, Filia, everything is a struggle. The patricians fight for status, the equestrians fight for wealth, the poor fight to survive. And the army fights for all those things."

  "And you, my lord?" Miranda said. "What are you fighting for?"

  "Justice, Filia," Quirian said. "Justice for all."

  They spent the rest of the litter-ride back in silence, and when they finally arrived at Quirian's house Miranda remained in the courtyard, letting the cool night air surround her, the darkness enfolding her like mother's arms.

  "Filia?" Quirian said. "You will not come inside."

  "Not quite yet," Miranda said, sitting down amongst the statues of old Coronan heroes and Aurelian scholars who littered Quirian's courtyard, looking at the stars as a nightingale began to sing. "If you do not mind, I would like to be alone."

  "I am afraid I cannot allow that, Filia," Quirian said. "But I will leave you with only Octavia, if she is not too distracting. Octavia, see Miranda safely inside when she decides to retire."

  "Yes, Lord Father," Octavia replied, and so the awkward girl stood watch over Miranda even as the rest of Quirian's entourage followed him inside, the doors closing upon them with a thud, setting the two young ladies apart from the rest of the house and, with a gated wall between them and the city, from the rest of the world. In the empty courtyard, with only the statues for company and only the sound of a nightingale to hear, it felt almost as though they were truly alone in Pelarius.

  Miranda might have preferred it that way.

  She bowed her head with a deep sigh.

  "Miranda?" Octavia's voice was high pitched and suffused with concern. "Miranda, what's the matter?"