The Sword Of Angels eog-3

by John Marco

  ‘You would tell me everything I could ever want to know,’ said Chane. ‘An hour with me and you would be begging for death. Asher’s not the only one who can use a knife.’

  ‘So?’ flared Mirage. ‘Why did you take me away from him? If all you mean to do is kill me. .’

  ‘Quiet,’ snapped Chane. ‘You’re not to be tortured. I didn’t save you from that madman just to have you harmed. That’s not why I’m taking you to Castle Hes. There’s something else.’

  ‘What?’ asked Mirage, dreading his answer.

  Chane took hold of the horse’s reins. He looked up at her calmly and said, ‘You’re to be a gift for King Raxor.’

  Mirage frowned as if she hadn’t heard right. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’re to be one of the king’s women,’ said Chane, ‘just as I am the king’s man.’

  ‘Those mean two different things, though,’ said Mirage, groping for understanding. ‘I’m no man’s slave!’

  ‘This isn’t slavery, girl.’

  ‘Yes, yes it is!’ Mirage sputtered. ‘You’re talking about a concubine. What is that, if not a slave?’

  ‘You are to be one of the king’s women,’ repeated Chane firmly. So that Mirage could not bolt, he kept his fist tight on the horse. ‘It’s been settled.’

  ‘No!’ Mirage railed. Her mind raced for a way to escape. ‘You saved me for this? I won’t do it.’

  ‘You will, because you have no choice. King Raxor will love you. I knew it when I first saw you. That’s why I made sure Asher did nothing to you.’

  ‘So you let him torment me?’

  ‘Why not?’ Chane barked. ‘I was right about you, girl. You have information.’

  ‘I won’t give it,’ Mirage promised. ‘Never. Is this your way of trying to make me talk? Another game like Asher played with me? Well his game didn’t work and this won’t either. You can enslave me, make me one of your king’s whores. I won’t tell you what I know. Not ever.’

  ‘This is not a game,’ Chane assured her. ‘I have already told King Raxor about you. I promised him a woman of remarkable beauty, a women to make his heart sing.’

  ‘But that’s not me! And he’s the king! Surely he can have his pick of women.’

  ‘You.’

  Chane began leading the horse along the avenue, resuming their trek toward Castle Hes. Mirage looked desperately around, searching for any way to escape. The quiet city might give ample places to hide, but if she ran Chane would simply mount the horse and stop her. So she tried pleading instead.

  ‘Listen to me,’ she begged. ‘I won’t be the kind of woman your king wants. If you do this, you’ll just be hurting yourself, Chane. I won’t please your king. I’ll be the worst bitch he’s ever seen.’

  ‘Then you will be punished,’ said Chane.

  ‘Stop! Please. .’

  Chane halted, again turning to regard her. ‘Girl, you’re not understanding. You have no choice, except the obvious one. You can either agree to this or be sent back to Asher. Tonight. Asher keeps his knives sharp. He’ll be ready for you.’

  ‘Be skinned alive or be a whore to your king? That’s no choice at all,’ said Mirage bitterly.

  Chane shrugged. ‘But there it is. .’

  He resumed leading the horse down the street. And Mirage was out of answers. She slumped on the beast’s back, all her arguments lost, the last of her hope snuffed out like a candle. Castle Hes loomed in the distance, growing ever closer. She could see its spiked portcullis glowing in torchlight. Her courage withered, and for the first time she cursed her newfound beauty. Even covered in grime, her hair matted with filth, men still lusted for her, men like Asher with their twisted appetites and men like Raxor, always eager to bed some new harlot. For a moment, she had thought that Chane, too, had lusted for her, assuming that to be his motive for saving her. But Chane wasn’t like other men. He was cruel like them, certainly, but he had not heart at all, just the clockworks of a machine spinning in his chest.

  ‘You’ve told your king about me?’ she asked.

  Chane did not turn to look at her, but kept on walking. ‘That’s right. And you’ll be good to him, girl, or you’ll be sorry.’

  ‘I had thought you meant to rape me when you caught me. I thought you saw me in that bar and meant to take me for yourself. But you’re not even man enough to do that, are you? You’re just a blind dog, doing whatever your master bids.’

  ‘I have my duty,’ said Chane, barely bristling.

  ‘Yes, no mind of your own,’ spat Mirage. ‘And nothing between your legs. If you were a man — a real man — you’d let me go. You’d see the wrongness in all of this.’

  ‘You’re reaching, girl.’

  Mirage didn’t care. ‘This is my chance to tell you what I think of you, Corvalos Chane. You’re as much a slave as I am, only you’re too stupid to know it. Is this what it means to be the right hand of Raxor? To find him poor girls? I can’t wait to see what a monster he must be, to have to send you out to get women for him. What a bastard he must be. .’

  ‘Enough!’ roared Chane. With a face like thunder, he turned on her and jerked the reins until she almost tumbled. ‘You may speak of me as you wish, but if you ever speak so of the king again I swear I will kill you. Do you understand? Beautiful or not, I will kill you.’

  Mirage met his wild gaze, refusing to back down. ‘That’s your duty too, I suppose. To kill innocent people. No women for Corvalos Chane, the mindless eunuch.’

  ‘You know nothing,’ said Chane. ‘I cannot have a woman. I am devoted to King Raxor. He is my life, my only reason for existing. So close your mouth or when we get to the castle I will have one of the seamstresses sew it closed.’

  Chane continued his march toward Castle Hes, this time more quickly. Mirage shrank in the saddle. No amount of jeering could deter him, she knew, and the bitterness in his words had surprised her. There was, she supposed, something human in him after all.

  ‘You may lie to me, even to yourself,’ she said. ‘But I know why you saved me. Because you didn’t want to see me harmed.’

  ‘I already told you that. Now be quiet.’

  ‘I’ll give you myself if you let me go, Corvalos Chane.’

  Chane slowed but did not turn to face her. ‘Stop now.’

  ‘Just one night,’ said Mirage. ‘You can have me.’

  ‘Please, stop talking.’ Chane came to a halt. He turned around slowly. ‘Don’t do this to yourself, girl. However much I may crave you, I can never have a woman. So do not bargain yourself. You have pride. You’re not a whore, and King Raxor will not make you one.’

  Finally, Mirage surrendered. Her fac?ade dissolved, leaving her unable to argue or even believe the things she was saying. She nodded, stifling tears that threatened to burst from her eyes. ‘Take me to the castle, then,’ she said. ‘But know this — I will not give up my secrets.’

  Something like pity crossed Chane’s face. ‘You will, girl. You just don’t know it yet. In time, whatever you know about Baron Glass and his armour will come falling out of your mouth, and you won’t be able to stop it.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ said Mirage.

  Chane smiled, not victoriously. ‘You’ll never leave Reec. Your life in Liiria is over, and once you realize that you’ll see there’s no value at all in your keeping secrets.’

  Then, without another word between them, Chane led Mirage the rest of the way to Castle Hes.

  14

  Mirage had thought she would never be warm again, but in the perfumed water of the luxurious tub, Asher’s frozen prison became just a distant, terrifying memory. Mirage opened her eyes, feeling trails of water drip from her forehead and watching wisps of steam thread through her toes. With a deep, satisfied breath, she smelled the lavender from the exotic salts that had been sprinkled into her bath. Her naked body floated in the clean, warm water, her chin hovering just above the surface. Her wet hair, now brushed free of its tangles and filth, splayed out around her shoulders, dancin
g on the water. For the first time in days, her skin felt soft. Oil in the water had tinged the bath pink, turning it to silk. Mirage could taste it on her lips. The steam untied the knots in her muscles, and though she had already slept the day away, her eyelids fluttered with exhaustion.

  The day had passed in a remarkable blur. It was almost night again, but Mirage had spent the daylight hours in a soft bed with clean sheets and a pillow that cradled her head like a cloud. In a beautiful room with huge, soaring windows, she had eaten fine food brought to her by servants, watching the busy city from her perch in one of the castle’s towers. Though it had been just before dawn when Chane had brought her to Castle Hes, the servants had already been waiting for her. Eager to pamper her, the women had shooed Corvalos Chane away, caring for Mirage as though she were a favourite pet. They brushed her hair and made her bed, and gave her quiet so that she could sleep. The maids watched her anxiously, jumping to please her but never answering her questions. Finally, Mirage had given up, surrendering to them and all their temptations. After eating she slept, and her sleep was dreamless and pleasant, so deep that when she awoke she could not remember where she was until a happy faced girl appeared over her bed. Announcing it was bath time, the girl led Mirage to an adjacent room in the tower, where the steaming bath had already been drawn and a young maid — who could have been a twin of the first — stood ready with a brush. And just as she had surrendered to the food and soft bed, Mirage slipped out of her dressing robe into the warm, silky water.

  Now, once again on the verge of sleep, Mirage considered all that had happened. A gilded window at the far side of the chamber told her that the sun was setting. She could see it sending up its dying, purple rays, dipping slowly behind the city’s silhouette. For the moment, her maids had left her, allowing her to relax and enjoy the bath. They were full of questions, Mirage could tell, but they held their tongues and spoke only of the work at hand, marveling at how beautiful Mirage looked and how lovely her hair was once washed. It was all simple, girlish talk, pleasant and diverting, and Mirage was no longer afraid. Surely being in Raxor’s bed would be better than being in Asher’s chains. Would she be his slave, she wondered? They were making her pretty for him, that much she had guessed. Was he a kind man? Would he beat her?

  Mirage sank in the tub. She knew almost nothing about King Raxor, only that he was an old man now and that he had ascended to Reec’s throne upon his brother’s death. He had been a war hero once, a long time ago when Reec and Liiria were enemies. Lukien had faced him in battle many times. But Lukien was never one to talk about old battles, and Mirage cursed herself for not listening to him more intently when he did.

  ‘Has he no wife?’ Mirage asked herself. Kings could have as many wives as they wished, she supposed, and as many harlots to satisfy their lust. The notion made her pensive. She missed home desperately. She missed Minikin more than she ever thought possible.

  Soon, though, she heard footsteps approaching. Mirage sat up, ignoring modesty as she peered to see who had come. An older woman appeared, simply garbed in a grey maid’s dress, her hair pinned back in an unflattering bun. Mirage had seen her before, directing the other maids. She held a fresh white robe in her wrinkled hands. A brittle smile cracked her face.

  ‘It’s time to get you ready,’ she announced.

  Mirage looked up uncertainly. ‘For the king?’

  ‘You’re clean and rested. And King Raxor is expecting you. Come out of the bath. We’ll brush your hair and dress you.’

  Even naked, no one could see through Mirage’s magic. Not a hint of her burned skin made it through Kirsil’s mask. It still amazed Mirage, who smiled at the old woman.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.

  ‘My name is Laurella,’ said the woman, holding out the robe. ‘Come on — out with you now.’

  ‘Are you one of Raxor’s women?’

  Laurella faintly blushed. ‘I’m one of the king’s maids, child. I’ve been employed at the castle all my life, just like my mother and father before me.’

  ‘He has other women, the king?’

  ‘Too many questions,’ Laurella sighed. She lowered the robe, looking sympathetically at Mirage. ‘Child, do not worry. King Raxor is a gentle man.’ Then, glancing over her shoulder, she lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘And probably too old to do much with you. If you’re a virgin, I shouldn’t be worrying about losing your prize to him.’

  Laurella’s faded blue eyes smiled down at her, encouraging Mirage out of the bathtub. At last, it seemed she had found an ally. Trusting the old woman, Mirage lifted herself up, dripping wet, letting Laurella help her out and into the robe, a garment of such thick fabric Mirage felt lost in it. The whole experience had made her feel small, in fact, like a little girl. Laurella toweled dry her hair until it fell limply across her eyes. She produced a pair of waiting slippers for her feet, then led Mirage out of the bath chamber and into an adjoining dressing room. There, the two younger maids who had tended her earlier urged Mirage into a chair set before a magnificent mirror. Brushes and all colours of waxy rouge and lip polish had been arranged on the vanity table. The girls chirped excitedly as Mirage took her seat.

  ‘You’re so beautiful!’ said one of them.

  ‘Beautiful,’ the other quickly agreed. Together they touched her dripping hair, playing with the strands.

  ‘Child, look here,’ said Laurella. She had walked to the other side of the room, near a small bed beneath a window. She picked up a dress from the bed and showed it to Mirage. ‘This is for you.’

  The twins cooed at the garment. It was unlike anything Mirage had ever worn, the kind of dress only princesses put on, with a skirt of emerald ruffles and white silk ties for her waist meant to accentuate her womanhood.

  ‘You’ll be the prettiest thing in the castle,’ said Laurella. ‘Like it?’

  ‘It’s very nice,’ said Mirage modestly. She had never been the prettiest thing anywhere.

  ‘Your skin is so lovely,’ said one of the girls, studying Mirage’s face with envy. ‘Like cream.’

  ‘Your hair, too,’ said the other, still twirling it between her fingers. They were both younger than Mirage, though not by much. Even so close, it was easy for Kirsil to work her magic on them, and Mirage had no fear at all that they might see through to her burned skin. Laurella came closer, studying Mirage in the mirror.

  ‘Two hours, then I’ll be back for you,’ said Laurella. ‘Sela and Meleni will take care of you.’ She put her hand on Mirage’s shoulder, gave it a reassuring squeeze, then turned and left the chamber. Mirage looked blankly at the twin maids.

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Sit and be at ease,’ the girl on her left directed. ‘We’ll make you ready for the king.’

  By the time two hours had passed, Mirage could not believe her transformation. The two vapid girls had made her into a beautiful lady. In her dress of emerald silk, Mirage twirled along the floor, studying herself in the mirror with amazement. Sela and Meleni nodded, pleased with themselves. Starting with a raw canvas, they had made Mirage into a masterpiece. Mirage stuck her face close to the mirror, studying the exactitude of her makeup and the way it made her shine. She was, in fact, the prettiest thing she had ever seen, reminiscent of her long dead mother. Pleased with their handiwork, the two maids beamed. They had brushed and curled Mirage’s hair, painted her face like artists, and dressed her in the expensive gown. Now the twins looked weary and satisfied. Leaning over the vanity table, Mirage stared down into her cleavage in disbelief. In Grimhold, she had always felt like a child. Now, with her own womanhood staring back at her, her girlish fac?ade fell away.

  Then in the mirror Laurella appeared, pushing open the door to the chamber and peering inside hopefully. When she saw Mirage, she brightened at once.

  ‘Splendid,’ she declared. The compliment made Mirage soar. ‘How do you feel, child?’

  She wanted to say that she felt beautiful. Instead Mirage replied, ‘Afraid.’

&nbs
p; ‘Of course you’re afraid.’ Laurella came to stand before her, taking her hands. ‘But I promise you, no harm will come to you. You must believe me. King Raxor is not a brute. Forget what you might have heard about him.’

  ‘I’ve heard nothing of him,’ said Mirage. ‘Nor has anyone told me anything.’

  Sela and Meleni quickly agreed. ‘See Laurella? We told her nothing.’

  ‘It’s time for her to find out, then,’ said Laurella. ‘Are you ready to go? It’s time.’

  Mirage took a breath. ‘Then I’m ready.’ She turned back to the two girls. ‘Thank you for what you’ve done. Will I see you again?’

  ‘Of course,’ laughed Sela. She added, ‘We’re not going anywhere,’ implying that Mirage wasn’t going anywhere either. Mirage acknowledged her with a little wave, then followed Laurella out of the chamber.

  They were in the eastern tower of Castle Hes. According to Sela and Meleni, it was the tower of the king himself, where the royal family resided. Despite their claim that they had told Mirage nothing, the gabby maids had talked incessantly, explaining proudly how they were ‘east tower’ maids, and obviously thought themselves the betters of their west tower sisters. Mirage had seen very little of the eastern tower, but as she stepped out of the dressing chamber she got her first good look at the stunning place. Following Laurella down a wide hall, she marvelled at the paintings hung along the walls, great portraits of dead kings and their ladies, and of violent battles fought on bloodied landscapes. The walls themselves had been papered in velvet, textured gold and scarlet. Brightly polished sconces tossed dancing light across the amber floor. Maids and servants Mirage had yet to meet passed them as they walked, smiling politely or entirely averting their eyes. Self-conscious in her expensive gown, Mirage felt a blush of embarrassment at their deference.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked in a whisper.

  Laurella, walking quickly, replied, ‘To the drawing room.’

  ‘Drawing room? What’s that?’