She straightened the lapel of Valiana’s greatcoat. ‘But that’s for later. For now, you’ve got to take the oath.’
‘What oath?’ Valiana asked.
‘Well now, if it was just as easy as someone telling you what to say, then it wouldn’t be much of an oath, would it?’
Valiana looked around at us. ‘I don’t understand – do you want me to swear fealty to the Greatcoats? Or the King’s memory? Or some Saint?’
‘Is that what you believe in? What you want to die for? Cos, make no mistake, girl, the end of this road is a shallow, dirty ditch with your corpse in it.’
Valiana looked into the Tailor’s eyes for a moment, then looked away. ‘No,’ she said softly, ‘I don’t … disbelieve in those things, but then, I don’t know what it means to believe in anything, really. My life was always about me, and so was everyone else’s life around me, too. I don’t even know what I should care about. I never made a promise to anyone else, except—’
She looked at Aline, who was sitting down on a stool, looking at her hands.
‘—you,’ she said. ‘I promised you I’d protect you, didn’t I?’
Aline nodded and sniffed a little.
Valiana looked to the Tailor. ‘Is that—?’
The Tailor put a hand on her face and then gave her a light, almost affectionate slap. ‘No one can tell you but yourself. That’s what being free means – not the right to do whatever you want, but the right to take a stand and say what you’ll die for.’
Valiana stood motionless for a moment and then knelt before Aline and took her hand. ‘Listen, I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t know who I am or how long I have to live. I thought I was the most important girl in the world and now it turns out I’m worth nothing, not even the coat on my back. I’m not innocent – I know that now. Just being ignorant doesn’t mean I’m free of guilt. But you are. You didn’t do anything wrong, and now people are coming to – well, they’re coming to do bad things. And you didn’t do anything wrong. You should have the right to live and figure out who you want to be. I’m not strong, and I don’t know how to use a sword, not really anyway. But I think – I think I can be brave, or I can try, at least. I think that if someone tries to kill you I could … I don’t know, put myself in front of you. I don’t know how well I can fight, or run, or judge, but when the blade comes, I swear on whatever they want me to swear on, I’ll stop it, with my body if nothing else.’
I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t. There was a heaviness in the room as we all stood there and listened to Valiana’s quiet tears.
I don’t know how long we waited like that before Valiana looked around to the Tailor, who nodded at her, just once.
‘Tailor – how—?’ I choked on the words before I could get them out.
‘Shush,’ she replied, her eyes still on the girls.
After a moment Aline took Valiana’s right hand and placed it against her cheek. Somehow I knew she was going to do that … I knew because—
‘No,’ the Tailor said to me, ‘not yet. You’re not ready to understand.’ Then she made the tiniest gesture with her hand, like someone pulling a needle through cloth, and the question was gone.
‘Is that all right?’ Valiana asked. ‘Is that an oath? Did I say it right?’
The Tailor looked at me now. ‘Well, Falcio, do you reckon she said it right?’
‘It’s my oath,’ I said. ‘It’s the same oath I made to the King. And you said it just right.’
‘So is that it, then?’ Kest asked quietly. ‘Are coats and oaths the only things we have left?’ A look passed between him and the Tailor and she walked up and took his hand.
‘You know the answer already, don’t you, boy?’ she asked, tapping a finger on his forehead.
Kest nodded.
‘And you know who’s comin’, don’t you?’ she asked, more gently this time.
‘I do.’
‘So you’ve been trainin’ and practisin’, and now you reckon yourself the best in the world, don’t you?’
‘I have. I am.’
‘And you know it ain’t enough, right?’
I thought I saw the hint of a tear in his eye when I heard him say, ‘I know.’
She patted him on the arm. ‘I’ll say this for you: you’ve tried hard and you’ve learned a lot. But you have too much here,’ she tapped him on the forehead, ‘and too much here,’ she patted his arms, ‘and not enough here.’ She put the tip of her finger on his chest. ‘And now your time is comin’ and you ain’t ready.’
‘How long?’ Kest asked.
‘How long is the thread in my hand?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he replied.
The Tailor said, ‘Tonight. It’s going to be tonight.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I said to her. ‘I don’t understand any of it any more.’
‘You ain’t supposed to,’ she said irritably. ‘Damned Magisters: you always want to know what to do or where to hide or who to kill. This ain’t that any more. There ain’t much time left, and what there is ain’t for judgin’ or ridin’ or fightin’. It’s for livin’, for as long as you have left.’
She walked stiffly over to the door and opened it. She clucked at Monster, waiting outside, and the Fey Horse opened her mouth and growled.
The Tailor ignored the warning and put her hands on the side of the scarred creature’s face. ‘You’ll come with me now, Horse. I’ve got a job for you. You can’t help them right now, much as you might want to. We’re sisters, you and I,’ she said absently, ‘old and broken and scarred and angry. They’ve taken it all away from us.’
She turned back to the rest of us. ‘They’ve taken it all,’ she said. ‘They’ve taken every last good thing in the world.’
Then she swung the door wide. ‘Now go and show them your answer.’
THE SAINT OF SWORDS
Whatever I expected to find when we reached the roadway, it wasn’t Patriana, Duchess of Hervor, with a single armed guard at her side. She was sitting on a stump, as elegantly as one could, and reading a book. Her guard was armoured head to toe, but he was only one man and that didn’t present much of a threat for us. So naturally I assumed we were completely surrounded.
‘We are quite alone,’ the Duchess said as we approached. ‘You needn’t fear an arrow in the back just yet.’
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Brasti said, pulling an arrow from his quiver. ‘Hang on, boys, I’m just going to go kill the old cow and I’ll be right back.’
The Duchess smiled politely at him. ‘Ah, if it were only that simple.’
I gestured at the two horses tied to the tree near the stump. ‘You travelled light,’ I said.
‘Alas, but the wagons would not have been able to keep quite the pace we needed to reach you. But travelling light is pleasant enough in the right company.’
‘I take it you wanted to get here before Duke Jillard did?’ I asked.
‘Yes. I do thank you so much for stealing the little girl out of Rijou. Apparently the Duke is quite determined to kill her, and I can’t really have him getting hold of the five of you. He managed to field an army of his more loyal soldiers and bring it up the Eastern Passage and through the Arch, and in a short while they’ll make their way down this road. I don’t plan on being here when they arrive.’
She looked the five of us over. ‘But my, haven’t you been busy, getting all nice and cleaned up for our visit. And you, my sweet child,’ she said, looking at Valiana, ‘don’t you look all grown up in that lovely coat.’
‘I’m bored,’ Brasti said. ‘Is there any way I could possibly just kill you now and then we could go and – I don’t know – play games with your head?’
‘I don’t think you would have much fun tossing my head around like a ball, Trattari. Trust me, I’ve tried it more than once and even a traitor’s head just gets soggy after a while.’
I wondered, not for the first time, that the world could bear the weight of so many foul people
.
‘Besides,’ she added, ‘you’ll find patience is a worthwhile companion. I’ve been patient nearly twenty years now, and I suspect the sensation of completing my task will be made even more satisfying by the delay.’
‘All right, now even I’m bored. What is it you want?’ I asked.
‘Negotiation,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘No need to be coy. You have the Patents of Lineage and I need them. I don’t want Jillard to get them back, and I’m willing to negotiate.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Safe passage for the five of us and a barrel full of gold onions.’
The Duchess thought for a moment, then said, ‘No, I’m afraid that won’t do. Though the gold onions would be feasible, I suppose, if you’d care to settle for those. But I’m afraid I really do need most of you to be dead as soon as possible.’
‘I imagine you can understand why that doesn’t work very well for us,’ I pointed out.
‘I’m not being cruel,’ she said earnestly. ‘The girls must die because none of my plans really work out very well with them alive. The archer insulted Duke Perault, and so he must die. And of course Kest here, “the King’s Blade”, well now, he’s spoken for.’
Patriana smiled pleasantly. ‘But you can come back with me, Falcio, you and that delightful horse. Wherever is she? We’ve got a great deal to talk about, you and I.’
‘Brasti, put an arrow in the guard’s face, Kest, knock her head off – see if you can get it to thunk on that tree over there,’ I ordered.
‘Duel,’ Patriana snapped.
‘What?’
‘I claim the right of duel to resolve this matter. King’s Law gives it to me.’
Brasti was sighting the guard down the line of his arrow. ‘Lady, you can claim the right of boiled fish for all I care, but I’m done playing with you.’
Brasti let the arrow fly. I have seen him shoot a thousand times and I have never seen him miss the target, not at this distance.
‘It’s all right,’ Kest told him quietly. ‘You didn’t miss.’
The guard was still standing, and he didn’t appear to have moved. But I noticed that his sword was in his hand now and there, on the ground in front of his feet, lay the arrow, cut perfectly in half.
‘We all dream of meeting the Saints when we die, don’t we?’ the Duchess of Hervor said. ‘Well, now you have, and now you will.’
The guard removed his helm. He had short red hair and piercing eyes and his face was red, the colour of spilled blood. The air glowed red around him. At the sight of him our horses reared and then let out terrified screams as they raced from the clearing.
‘Gods and Saints,’ Brasti whispered.
‘We prefer it if you don’t summon us in vain,’ said Caveil-whose-blade-cuts-water, the bloody-faced Saint of Swords. ‘Sometimes it even makes us angry.’
‘It’s not possible,’ I said. ‘Saints don’t …’
My mind raced, trying to understand what was happening. Was this a ruse? Was this just a scary man with a painted-red face? But the arrow—
‘Oh, it’s not as difficult as you might think,’ the Duchess began. ‘If you try hard enough and you’re willing to make sacrifices, you can work out an amicable arrangement with anyone, really.’
She rose and said, ‘This is my negotiating position: you can duel my champion, lose, and then I’ll take the scrolls and your lives, or you can try and run, Saint Caveil will kill you, and then I’ll have the scrolls and your lives anyway.’
‘What’s the difference?’ I asked, still staring at a Saint walking the Earth.
‘My way you get to die doing something grand and honourable. I know how much that means to you, Falcio.’
The Saint removed his armour, a piece at a time, revealing a powerful, lean frame underneath. He wore a black jerkin that covered his torso; where his skin was revealed it was as blood red as his face. Despite all that, his appearance didn’t impress me all that much more than a hundred other opponents who were equally muscled and tattooed. But somehow you could sense the power in him. A Saint: the ultimate expression of an ideal, in this case, the mastery of the sword.
Well, I thought, if I have to die, at least there is a pretty damn good chance someone will write a song about it. Except that he was going to kill all of us regardless, and then there wouldn’t be anyone to tell the story. Unless, of course, the Duchess would oblige.
‘All right,’ I said, pulling my rapier from its scabbard.
The Saint laughed. ‘You? Don’t be silly. You don’t even hold that thing properly.’
He turned to Kest. ‘You. You’re the one I’ve come for.’ Then he looked Kest in the eye. ‘You’ve always known it, haven’t you?’
‘I have,’ Kest said simply.
‘And you know how this is going to end, don’t you?’
‘I do.’
Caveil smiled. ‘It’s not good to put yourself above a Saint, child.’
Kest shrugged. ‘A Saint is really only a little God, after all.’
The Saint kept smiling. ‘I like that coat, though,’ he said. ‘May I have yours after you’re dead?’
‘Marked. I have one request in return,’ Kest said.
‘That sounds reasonable, if pointless.’
‘Let my friends go first. If I lose, you’ll have no trouble catching them, and if I win, they deserve a head start in case the Duke’s men arrive.’
‘Unacceptable,’ the Duchess said. ‘Your friends stay here. This won’t take more than a few seconds.’
The Saint kept his eyes on Kest, but he spoke to the Duchess. ‘Keep silent, woman. Your braying offends me.’
‘You are marked,’ she began.
‘I am marked,’ he said, ‘to kill this man. But I have not come here to destroy with a single stroke. You will have your vengeance, but I will have my sport. Fear not, I grow bored easily, and I am sure this one will suit me for only a few seconds. You can hold the scrolls ’til then, if it pleases you.’
The Duchess grabbed the scrolls from Valiana and inspected the seals.
Kest turned to me. ‘Go. Take the others. The hells with what the Tailor said. Run fast and run hard.’
There was no point in arguing: one of us or five of us, we didn’t have a chance against the Saint of Swords. But if we could run and catch the Fey Horse, I might be able to get Valiana and Aline on it; they’d have a chance to flee the Duke of Jillard’s army, if the Duchess had spoken true and the Duke of Orison’s men weren’t behind us.
‘Get ready,’ I told the others. ‘We go for the trees and into the fields.’ I doubted she was stupid enough to believe me, but I didn’t feel like really telling her where we were going.
I turned back to Kest to say goodbye. He was my oldest friend and he was about to die to give me one last, hopeless chance.
‘Kest?’ I said.
He was staring at Saint Caveil, who stood smiling at us, his feet shoulder-width apart and his sword resting casually in one hand.
‘Can’t … see,’ Kest said, squinting his eyes.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. Had Caveil done something to his eyes? Do Saints cheat?
‘Falcio, I can’t see … I can’t see him moving his sword …’ Kest’s eyes were blinking furiously and he was breathing strangely.
I looked back at the Saint. He hadn’t moved.
‘Kest, what are you talking about? He’s not moving.’
‘Listen,’ Kest said. ‘Just listen.’
I did, and at first I thought I was just hearing the wind from the east, but then I found a rhythm to the gentle whooshing; an almost-melody of subtle vibrations: the sound a fine sword makes when it cuts the air.
I looked back at bloody-faced Saint Caveil who didn’t appear to be moving at all but was cutting the air with his sword so quickly my eyes couldn’t see it.
‘I can almost … almost make it out,’ Kest mumbled. ‘A blur … yes, there it is, no, wait … almost …’
I didn’t k
now what I could do for Kest. ‘Go,’ I shouted to Brasti and the others.
Kest grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me in the eyes. He looked crazed. ‘Falcio, I need you to do something for me.’
‘Anything,’ I said.
‘You beat me – that one time at the castle, you beat me. Tell me how you did it. Maybe I can … maybe there’s something I haven’t tried, something I haven’t seen, or some technique—’
My heart fell. I could have lain down on the ground and simply let the Saint kill me, or the Duke’s army run right over me, or any of a hundred other deaths that awaited me. For my whole life Kest had been like the mountains or the oceans or the sky: he feared nothing and was angered by nothing. Everything was simply interesting to him – and now he was going mad.
I put my hands on his shoulders and whispered into his ear, and I told him how I had beaten him that day at Castle Aramor. And when I was done, I kissed him on the forehead and said goodbye.
He gave me a little smile for a second and said, ‘Well now, I don’t think that’s going to work here, is it? But I suppose anything’s worth trying once.’
And with that he turned and gave a war cry, which I had never heard him do, and his sword flashed under the sun as he walked towards the Saint of Swords, and I turned and ran as fast as my legs would take me.
*
When the Ducal armies arrived at King Paelis’ castle they brought five hundred horse, a thousand foot, two hundred archers and a host of siege engines, enough men to fight a war that could rage for weeks. When they reached the front gates they met Pimar, the King’s valet.
Pimar was a good boy, eleven years old and eager to please, and when the vanguard reached the gate he opened it for them and asked if anyone wished some refreshment to clear their throats from the dusty ride. In his left hand he held out the King’s crest, and in his right he held a treaty signed by the King and the First Cantor of the Travelling Magisters.
According to Pimar, the generals spent some time reading the document and then turned to Pimar and asked that tea and biscuits be set out for them. And they asked to see me.
Traitor's Blade (The Greatcoats) Page 33