THE DUCAL PALACE
‘So how does this work?’ Brasti asked as we led the carriage down the wide cobbled Avenue of Remembrance towards the Ducal Palace.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, how exactly does her Ladyship over there go from uptight bitch to Queen of the world?’
I glanced back at the carriage containing Valiana and the Duke’s man to make sure neither they nor the carriage driver was paying attention. ‘I’m not exactly sure. I think it has to do with the Council of Dukes having the power to select a Regent …’
‘No,’ Kest said, ‘that’s only if there’s an heir under the age of thirteen. This is about the Regia Maniferecto De’egro.’
‘The what now?’ Brasti said.
‘It’s in Auld Tongue: “Regia”, meaning “rule”, “Maniferecto”, meaning “governing law” and “De’egro”, meaning “of the Gods”.’
‘Ah well, that clears it all up then.’
‘You should have read more and drank less during our training, Brasti.’
‘We can’t all be walking encyclopaedias, Kest.’
‘I imagine it suits a Magister more to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of law than it does to have one pertaining only to ales.’
Brasti smiled. ‘Now see, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve solved more cases with beer than you have with your arcane knowledge of laws nobody cares about.’
Feltock snorted. ‘Saint Zaghev-who-sings-for-tears, is this how you Greatcoats solve the world’s problems, then? No wonder everything is fucked.’
Kest ignored him. ‘Well, this law is one you’ll probably want to learn, and it’s easy enough to remember: the Regia Maniferecto De’egro, or Godly Edict of Lawful Rule is exactly seven lines long. It states that the Gods demand that only a King or Queen may rule, not a council. It further states that the Gods imbue the line of Kings with favoured blood and the prosperity of the kingdom is tied to the quality of the blood of the ruler.’
‘What shit,’ Brasti said. ‘Blood is blood, so long as it’s red.’
‘Nevertheless, the Maniferecto – and I suspect the Dukes – disagree.’
‘So what would the Gods feel about this situation then?’ I asked, assuming they thought nothing of it at all. Most of these ancient texts were notoriously light on useful judicial details.
‘Surprisingly,’ Kest said, glancing back at the carriage, ‘the Maniferecto does indeed address this, in the seventh and final line. Paraphrasing, it states that royal blood never dies but re-manifests itself according to the will of the Gods,’
‘Well, that’s useful,’ Brasti snorted.
‘I wasn’t finished. According to the will of the Gods as witnessed by those of “worthy blood”.’
Shit. ‘And “worthy blood” here would mean—’
Kest nodded. ‘The Dukes.’
‘Well, isn’t this just wonderfully convenient for everybody then?’ Brasti said, a little too loudly for my comfort. ‘The fucking Dukes murder the King and then, according to this arcane bloody law written by some in-the-pocket cleric, the same people who killed the King suddenly have the magical power to see where the royal blood lies next. Thank the Saints I became a Greatcoat to fight for such far-seeing laws!’
‘It’s not that simple, though, is it?’ Feltock said, rubbing his chin. ‘I mean, if it were just as easy as that I reckon the Dukes would have picked one of themselves right quick, wouldn’t they?’
‘You’re right: it’s not as easy as that. You were one of the Duke of Pertine’s generals. Do you think he’d have sat back while another man no more noble than he took power? Hells, you work for Patriana now – how do you think the Duchess of Hervor would feel?’
Feltock took a swig from the wineskin. ‘The Duchess isn’t always the most sharing of individuals. I suppose you’re right. So then why allow my mistress to take power?’
‘Because she’s an idiot,’ Brasti said lightly.
Feltock’s hand dropped to the knife at his belt. ‘You’ll hold your tongue, boy. I don’t expect you to love the Lady, but you speak of her with respect.’
Brasti threw his hands up in a gesture of mocking submission. ‘You’re right, you’re right,’ he said obligingly. ‘Given her parentage, she’s practically a fucking Saint.’
‘This is getting us nowhere,’ Kest said to me.
‘Why,’ Feltock threw back, ‘’cause I’m just a stupid old army man, too soft in the head for your grand Greatcoat thinking?’
‘Feltock,’ I said, ‘not to give offence to her Ladyship, but the reality is that she’s young, inexperienced, guileless and completely malleable. If the Duke of Rijou is truly her father then the other Dukes likely see her as easily controlled. Rijou himself cares nothing for the world outside of his domain, so he’s unlikely to seek to use her to expand his own influence, and his region is completely dependent on trade, so he’ll want to keep the other Dukes content. Valiana will be as happy as a child with a new puppy, with a lovely throne and pretty clothes, and all the while the Dukes will have free run in their lands.’
‘Well now, I’m glad you’re not intending to give offence.’
‘If you want to see offence, watch what the Dukes regularly do with the young daughters of the peasants on their land,’ Kest said. ‘Or what happens to families when every strong back is suddenly conscripted to build a Duke’s petty temple or statue, or to fight an unnecessary border-war so that the Duke can call himself a warrior.’
Feltock locked eyes with him. ‘I’m not stupid. I know what can happen when a bad seed takes the Ducal seat.’
‘If that’s what you think then you are stupid,’ Kest said quietly. ‘A Duke who treats his people with anything less than an iron fist soon finds his fellow Lords coming to call with Knights at their backs, the length and breadth of their honour defined by how quickly they split a peasant’s head open when their own Duke commands it.’
‘So then what now?’ Brasti interrupted. ‘We go to a ceremony and that’s the end of it?’
‘No, but it’s certainly the beginning,’ Kest replied. ‘She needs Patents of Lineage, which must be signed by all the Dukes or else there could be questions of legitimacy later on. Nobody, not even the Dukes, want a civil war.’
‘They’ll bring a mage in to test her with a Heart’s Trial too, I’d guess,’ I added.
‘Test what now?’ Feltock asked. I could see him tensing up. ‘They’ll not put irons nor spells against my Lady.’
‘It’s not what you think,’ I said. ‘It’s just a ritual by which the mage can apparently test the content of her heart. Is she telling the truth about being the daughter of Jillard and Patriana? Does she hold any ill will towards the Dukes? Does she have evil in her heart? Does she plan anything nefarious—?’
‘My Lady may be difficult at times, but there’s nothing evil nor conniving in her.’
Kest looked at him wearily. ‘Exactly – and that’s why the Dukes will accept her, and why she’ll make a perfect tool for the Dukes to use to ruin this country for ever.’
Then Kest looked back at me. I didn’t need any Heart’s Trial to know exactly what he was thinking.
*
The Ducal Palace was like everything else in Rijou, built on three levels of increasing decay. The foundation had been formed hundreds of years ago when the men and women of Rijou had fought like iron bears against aggressors from the north, south and east. They had carved and carried indomitable eidenstone from quarries miles away in order to build a foundation and walls that would never be shattered by enemy forces. The foundation itself continued outside the palace, forming a promenade on which all major civic ceremonies took place. The promenade was known as the Rock of Rijou – the summoning place where the city would gather if ever they had to fight again to protect their homes.
Above this noble foundation sat hundreds of years of corruption. Seven Ducal families had taken their turns tearing down and rebuilding the overblown palace ballrooms and chambers, filling the palace with secret passageways and hidden alcoves, dungeon cells and rooms specially designed for torturing enemies: it was a harsh scab marring the hard-tanned skin of an otherwise great people.
But like any whore, Rijou’s Ducal Palace disliked revealing the lines and scars of its history, and so the current Duke squandered city monies to gild the vast chambers and hallways with precious metals and swathe it in rich fabric. Like many forms of lunacy it was somewhat ingenious in its manifestation. The Ducal Ballroom was built in several tiers. The Gemstone Tier at the top held the Duke’s table, the Golden Tier seated favoured nobles, the Silver was for those nobles who pleased the Duke too little. The military, tradesmen and musicians were to be found on the Oaken Tier, along with the dance floor, and below that the Iron Tier housed the kitchens and other utilitarian rooms behind great doors.
The ballroom and lighting were elegantly designed so that, while everyone could see the levels above them, giving impetus to elevate themselves in the Duke’s good graces, none could see the levels below, and thus could only imagine what might await them there should they fail to please their Lord. The Duke and his special guests shone like gemstones, to be admired by those beneath, but they needed never see the lower orders beneath them – and the Duke no doubt considered this stunningly idiotic arrangement a show of confidence that none would dare attack him.
‘I could kill him in seventeen steps,’ Kest remarked as he broke off a crust of bread.
‘Reckon I could kill him in one with my bow,’ Brasti said as we watched men in elaborate gold livery serve the main course on the levels above.
Feltock whispered angrily, ‘Reckon you’ll get us killed in no steps at all if you don’t shut your traps, fools.’
I looked around at the other peons on the Iron Tier. For the most part, everyone consigned to this level was working: fetching food and drink, moving empty dishes into the cleaning rooms, bringing brushes and pans to sweep up broken dishes. The only people eating with us were other bodyguards or nobles’ attendants not deemed well-groomed enough to sit behind their masters. The fact that all the horribly uncomfortable tables and chairs on our tier were made entirely out of rough iron rods – despite the huge cost – told me everything I needed to know about the Duke.
‘It’s starting,’ Kest noted.
The Duke rose from his gilded seat. His dark red velvet robes didn’t conceal his strong physique. Golden band encircled his waist and arms and on his head he wore a simple crown, not much more than a flattened loop of gold, really, but embedded at the front was the largest diamond I’d ever seen.
‘Must tip forward a great deal,’ Brasti observed.
‘Shh …’
‘My Lords and Ladies,’ the Duke’s voice boomed out.
‘Good acoustics, too,’ Kest said.
‘Would you stop encouraging him?’
‘My friends!’ the Duke continued, a smile across his face, then, ‘No, not just friends: my family. As we assemble here on the eve of Ganath Kalila, our most blessed celebration, in which we rebind the ties that make Rijou a true family, my heart is full!’
A great deal of cheering ensued. Unsurprisingly, the cheers were more muted the further down the tiers I looked.
‘My heart is full and my soul soars, not only because today my beautiful daughter is brought into my life—’ And here he revealed Valiana, dazzling in deep purple, with softly-coloured lilac gemstones woven in her hair, as she rose to the oohs and ahhs of the assembled crowd.
‘I say, my joy is not only that I am rejoined by a daughter, but that she has been so well protected by both Ducal guardsmen and brave Trattari, who have risked their lives to bring her to us safely.’
There was a gasp from the crowd. That may have been the first nice thing said about us by a noble in – well, possibly for ever.
‘Well, that was nice, really,’ said Brasti.
‘Yes, but why?’ I wondered.
‘And this, the love and devotion of such disparate moral characters for my daughter show all of us …’
‘Ah,’ I said. ‘There it is.’
‘… further, shows to all of us, men, Saints and Gods alike, that Valiana is and will be the glory that unifies all our peoples. From the noblest family to the basest criminal …’
‘See, now I’m not sure if he really likes us at all,’ Brasti said.
‘Shut up now. This is where it happens.’
‘… all of our people will come to love, to admire and, above all else, to need Valiana to lead us into the future. She has passed her Heart’s Trial and, with no stain or malice in her soul, she will bring us together: one people, united and free, under the benevolent rule of the Princess Valiana!’
A roaring cheer emanated from the Golden Tier; no doubt these favoured nobles had already been well-briefed about their imminent enthusiasm. From the Silver Tier there were some muted sounds, and I thought I could distinguish some cries of shock, even anger. From the Oaken Tier there was confusion, followed by rampant cheering and clapping, not because they understood what was going on, but because they understood that they had better start expressing their pleasure at the announcement. I doubt anyone cared what sounds came from the Iron Tier.
‘I can take her out before the guardsmen get in the way,’ Kest said. Then he turned to Brasti. ‘But I can’t get the Duke as well. They’ll have me by then. Can you get there and kill him before they catch you?’
Brasti looked at him, then at the stairs that joined the levels.
‘I—’
Feltock had his dinner knife in his hand and was ready to launch himself at Kest.
‘Saints, all of you, shut up and sit down,’ I said.
‘This is it, Falcio,’ Kest said to me urgently. ‘This is how they’re going to destroy everything the King worked for. Tell me why not – give me one reason – one good reason – why I shouldn’t stop this storm before it begins?’
I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him hard so that his nose was an inch from mine. I locked eyes with him. ‘Because. We’re. Not. Fucking. Assassins.’
‘I should have the lot of you killed, you damnable treachers!’ Feltock growled.
‘Now, now; the Duke’s all for unity – he said so,’ Brasti said. ‘Let’s not spoil the party.’
‘On your fucking honour – whatever that’s worth. On your fucking honour you swear to me you won’t hurt that girl, or I vow, Greatcoats or not, I’ll take the lot of you down seven hells with me.’
I turned to Feltock. ‘I am Falcio val Mond. I am the First Cantor of the Greatcoats. I swear neither I nor any of mine shall lay arms against Valiana, be she a Princess, a Queen or simply the foolish, half-witted girl I’ve grown accustomed to.’
Kest’s eyes never left mine.
‘I want to hear it from him,’ Feltock said, pointing his knife at Kest.
‘It is as he says,’ Kest spoke softly. ‘For so long as Falcio is alive and First Cantor of the Greatcoats, I will not raise arms against your mistress.’
Feltock put his knife down.
‘Well then, I suppose that’s as settled as things are likely to get,’ Brasti said cheerfully. ‘Oh, and look, they’re about to start the dancing.’ With that he bounded off and up the stairs to the Oaken Tier. Having no desire to sit in the company of Kest and Feltock, I joined him.
*
All might come to enjoy the musicians and the dancing on the grand oval-shaped floor, from the highest to the lowest tiers. The first few dances were lovely reels, interspersed with one formal dance and the occasional slower dance for couples. Only a few of the nobles joined in, but the Duke himself, accompanied by who I imagine were several of his favoured families, took a turn on the floor. Brasti was brazen as always, dancing with any woman who would tolerate him. He came close to dancing with a young noblewoman, until her father cast an angry eye in her direction and she hurriedly pulled away.
Me, I was more interested in watching the musicians. There were a full dozen of them, on a low stage to the right of the dance floor. They were young, for the most part, but led by an older man who seemed ill-suited to the task. His grey hair was cut in the long troubadour fashion, falling just above the shoulders, and his clothes were elegant enough, dyed in the Duke’s colours of dark red and gold. His face was weathered and lined, but he would have been handsome once. And he was blind. It took me a moment to realise that, because he appeared to have shining blue eyes. Then I realised they never moved nor blinked: he had gemstones in the sockets where his eyes should have been. As I gazed at him further, I noticed something else: there was something wrong with his feet. He wore a troubadour’s thigh-high leather travelling boots, but his feet didn’t move, even when the rest of his body was swaying along with the music. It’s true that not every musician taps a foot when they play, but I couldn’t recall ever seeing one whose feet stayed so firmly planted in the ground. The man must have no feet, I thought, and his legs must be splinted to wooden stumps of some kind in his boots. I hadn’t seen him come in, but there was a boy, no more than ten, standing next to him and accompanying him on the pipes. I could see he was keeping hold of two black canes. Every once in a while, the man would put his hand on the boy’s arm and tap some complicated sequence on his arm, and the boy in turn would pass him water, or switch out his guitar, or whisper the next song to the other musicians.
Even though I’d been staring at him for ages, it was only when he began to play the slow, soft dancing song called ‘The Lovers’ Twilight’, his guitar sounding out the rapid melody that seemed so simple but I knew was gruellingly complex to perform, that I recognised him. Bal Armidor: the man who had come to my village and sung such songs and stories that they had shaken my soul. Bal Armidor: the man who sang of Greatcoats.
Bal’s hands were moving swiftly upon the strings and the rest of the musicians intertwined their own instruments in and around his melody. The boy opened on the pipes, but after the first verse he put them down and sang a beautiful treble that well suited the song. But I had ceased paying attention to the music, for confusion swirled in my head. How had Bal Armidor come to be here, in the Duke’s palace? I had thought him long gone across the Eastern deserts to the Sun Tribes where he’d sworn he would be the first Western troubadour to master the music of the East.
As the song ended, I started moving towards the stage, but they immediately launched into another piece, this one was a little faster, but still for couples.
‘Will you dance with me, Falcio of the Greatcloaks?’ a voice came from behind me. I looked over at Bal, wanting to signal him somehow, but his head made the slightest movement left and right. Not now, he seemed to say.
I turned back to see who had spoken to me. Valiana was resplendent in her lovely gown, her hair straying a little from the perfection of earlier after much dancing, but still bedecked with gems and gleaming. Trin was a few yards away, dressed in a simple purple gown no doubt designed to complement Valiana’s own. She was in her own way as beautiful as any Princess, and yet there she stood, for ever in the background – alone. She caught me looking at her and dropped her eyes.
‘Greatcoats,’ I said absently, my eyes refocusing on Valiana.
‘What?’
‘Greatcoats. Not “Greatcloaks”. Greatcoats.’
‘Ah, well of course, that makes sense, doesn’t it?’ She laughed lightly. ‘Shall we dance then, Falcio of the Greatcoats?’
I looked around and saw several nobles trying very hard to light me on fire with their cold stares. I saw the Duke, smiling.
I shook my head. ‘No, my Lady, I—’
‘Your Highness,’ she corrected.
‘What?’
‘I’m a Princess now, Falcio, so as long as we’re being formal, I should prefer “your Highness”.’
I bowed. ‘Your Highness, I thank you for the honour, but I’m afraid I’m ill-suited to dancing.’
Her smile faded. ‘Ill-suited to dancing, or just ill-suited to dancing with me?’
‘I simply fear that I might tread on your royal toes while my mind struggles to keep track of my own feet and I try to understand what game you’re playing just now.’
She glanced briefly back at the Duke, then at me.
‘Then I will make it equally simple: my father feels it would be a show of great humility and unity for me to dance with a Greatcoat. If it makes it easier for you, then consider it an order from your employer.’
I shrugged casually but spoke loudly. ‘As your employee, Highness, of course I accept,’ and I took a deep bow, my right hand extended behind me while my left reached towards her, palm up. It was the customary invitation from a romantic suitor, and entirely inappropriate for this situation.
I was surprised when she accepted my hand and stepped lightly into my embrace for the opening of the dance.
‘How clever you are, Falcio of the Greatcoats,’ she whispered to me as we turned. ‘How much more wise and canny you are than the foolish girl before you. I asked for something that would cost you nothing, but you didn’t like my phrasing and so now you have humiliated me.’
‘Perhaps you should have asked one of the others,’ I replied.
She laughed. ‘Which one? The one who wants to murder me or the one who wants to murder my father?’
Feltock must have told her what happened.
‘I am curious about one thing, my Lady. How did—?’
‘Your Highness, you mean,’ Valiana said.
‘Yes, well, about that: how exactly did you manage to pass the Heart’s Trial? I’m told the spell is very difficult to fool.’
‘And you think that I must have cheated somehow? That I lied about who I am or what I intend? You do realise that in the days before King Paelis, it was considered treason to question the honour of the throne?’
‘I’m surprised, your Highness, that I am not therefore in irons.’
She ignored the question. ‘Why do you despise me so, First Cantor of the Greatcoats?’
‘I do not despise you, your Highness. I am afraid of you.’
‘What cause have I given you to fear me so?’
I looked in her eyes, searching for mockery but finding only an honest question. ‘Little to none, your Highness,’ I sighed, ‘but you have shown no wisdom either, and I believe you are being elevated as part of a conspiracy to bring false credibility to a new line of Kings and Queens, once again ruled wholly by the Dukes. I doubt you are evil – you might even be a nice person. But the Dukes will use you like a well-schooled animal and you will be like unto a monster for this world. And I am in the business of stopping monsters, your Highness.’
She stopped and I almost tripped over her, but she held me tight. ‘Why not kill me, then? Or at the very least, let your man, who is so eager to do so, do it for you?’
I held her eyes in mine. ‘Because my King would disapprove.’
For a moment she didn’t move at all, then she gave a very slight nod and we stepped back into the rhythm of the dance.
‘Then why treat me so foully? If I am such a fool and you so clever, why not ingratiate yourself with me, manipulate me for the benefit of your Greatcoats, just as you claim my father and the others will do?’
‘Because, your Highness, I am not like them, and my King would not approve of that either.’
‘Then why—?’
‘Highness,’ I asked softly, ‘what is it that you want?’
‘I—’ She leaned in closely and whispered in my ear, so quietly that I almost missed it when she said, ‘I am afraid.’
I leaned back from her. ‘Has someone threatened you?’
‘It’s not like that, nothing so overt – it’s just, when I’m with them, I sense what you say, that they do not listen to me; rather, they listen only to ensure I say what they have told me to say. My mother—’
‘Your Highness, forgive me, but your mother is the Duchess Patriana. If we speak of her, I cannot guarantee your safety.’
Valiana looked around. ‘From whom? I do not see Kest or Brasti.’
‘From me, your Highness. From me.’
‘Ah. You blame her for the death of the King.’
‘I do.’
‘Do you take no responsibility at all? Does it not matter to you that the King broke ancient laws, dismissed pacts and agreements of long standing held by his ancestors and the Dukes?’
‘I know little of that, your Highness. I know only that this country is weak and decaying, and it is breaking apart, thanks to the injustice heaped on it by the nobility. I know only that my King tried to bring a measure of fairness and mercy to the people of this land. I know only that your mother and the other Dukes had him killed for it.’
‘If you truly want a more just rule, Falcio, a more compassionate rule, then help me. Be one of my advisors. I would – I would even consider reuniting the Greatcoats, with some compromises. I need someone I can trust, someone who isn’t simply seeking more power for their family or house. Feltock says he believes in you, despite what conventional wisdom tells him. Be loyal to me, and I swear to you we can help the very same people you claim to want to save.’
The dance was coming to a close. ‘My Lady – your Highness, this afternoon you said you would intervene for the family whose home is under siege as the Blood Week begins.’
‘I have not forgotten.’
‘Save them,’ I said in her ear. ‘Save one family.’
The last note hung in the air for a moment as we separated and she looked at me. I bowed, properly this time, not as a suitor, and waited for her sign that I should leave.
She curtsied back. Before the musicians could start again, she raised a hand in the air, and everything stopped.
‘My Lord Duke of Rijou,’ she said in a clear, commanding tone.
Her father was standing a few feet away, at the edge of the dance floor. His eyes were cold when he said, ‘Daughter?’
‘I have a boon to ask of you.’
‘This hardly seems the time, sweetling.’
‘There is a family here in Rijou; their fate is in dire jeopardy.’
He laughed, ‘It is Ganath Kalila, daughter. I should say their fate is well in their hands, as has always been the case amongst the strong people of Rijou.’
‘Still, I would ask that you put them into your care.’
The room grew cold. This was a dangerous first test of her stature.
The Duke smiled, then walked over to her, taking her in his arms. The gesture looked innocent, even loving, but I could see him holding her too hard, too close. His pelvis was pushing into hers.
‘My dear Lords and Ladies, forgive my daughter, for she is still young and knows little of the world outside her home. But we shall teach her, shall we not?’
Laughter and applause. The sound of a hundred hyenas smelling blood.
Valiana pushed away from the Duke. ‘Dearest Father, you are correct. I have much to learn.’ She knelt down in front of him, her hands by her side in a gesture of submission.
‘Of course, my dear, this is quite understandable when one—’
‘Nevertheless,’ she said.
The room went quiet again.
‘Nevertheless, I must insist that the Tiarren family be protected. They are under siege in a manner most foul by bandits in black cloth, and the city guards do not defend them.’
‘Daughter, it is the Blood Week.’
‘It was not the Blood Week when they began to barricade them in their home. The city guards should have intervened. Your man, Shiballe, should have intervened. He did not. In fact, he prevented my men from lending assistance.’
The Duke’s eyes were embers burning angrily in the shadows that had descended over his face.
‘Shiballe,’ he said, and in an instant the soft, obsequious man was by his side.
‘My Lord?’
‘See to this. My daughter has made a request, in front of me. In front of all these people, that the lives of the Tiarren household be my responsibility.’
Then he raised his voice to the assembled nobles. ‘Lords and Ladies, be most assuredly aware: the fate of House Tiarren is of great interest to my daughter, and now to me. I hold their lives dearly, as I do all my subjects, and their future has been set in my royal hands and no others. I will see that my will is done in this matter. Have you heard me, Lords and Ladies?’
Sounds of assent rung out and Valiana rose, smiling. ‘Thank you, Father, you rise even further in my heart with this compassion.’
The Duke smiled at her, this time genuinely. I found it unsettling.
*
Someone tugged at my arm: the young singer.
‘He would converse with you now,’ he said.
The boy led me to a table near the musicians’ stage. The others continued to play, but Bal sat at the table with a mug in one hand. I sat opposite him, and the boy stood by his side.
‘Bal – it’s me! Falcio—’
He didn’t reply, but put his hand on the boy’s arm and tapped something with his fingers, as I had seen him do earlier.
‘He recognises you,’ the boy said.
‘Why does he not speak?’
Bal opened his mouth wide and I saw the ruin of his tongue.
‘Saints!’ Bal Armidor had had a voice that could sneak honey from bees and had snuck many a woman from the arms of her husband in his day. ‘What happened to him?’ I whispered, aghast. Was it the barbarians?’
He began tapping again on the boy’s arm.
‘He says his tongue was the last thing to go.’
‘What does that mean?’
More tapping.
‘He came here years ago, on his way East. He stopped to play for the Duke, hoping to earn enough coin for his journey.’
‘What happened?’
‘The Duke was fond of his playing, and generous in praise and reward. He offered Bal the position of Chief Troubadour. Bal said he was grateful, but like all troubadours, his feet itched for the road.’
Bal used both his hands to lift one of his legs out of its boot. Below the shin the flesh and bone had been replaced with a wooden leg inlaid with gold.
‘The Duke generously resolved the issue for him.’
Bal placed his leg back in the boot and took the boy’s arm again.
‘Then Bal found favour in the eye of one of the ladies of the court, and she found favour in him. The Duke suggested they cease their affair, as he had his own interest in the woman. He offered Bal one of his mistresses instead and when Bal said he had eyes only for Senina, the Duke was thoughtful enough to have his eyes put out, to be offered to Senina as a gift. In his infinite generosity, he replaced the gift he’d taken.’
The gemstones in his eye sockets. Saints, I should have let Brasti murder him.
‘The Duke’s son, Tommer, took a liking to Bal, and asked that Bal be made his tutor in music and history. Being a fool—’
Bal gripped the boy’s arm hard, then tapped again.
‘Bal agreed and taught the boy. He taught him music and voice and history. He taught him about the Kings and—’
‘The Greatcoats. He taught him about the Greatcoats, didn’t he?’
‘The Duke was furious and commanded him to stop,’ the boy said. ‘But Tommer was only seven years old and he didn’t understand why he couldn’t have what he wanted. Bal loved the boy and relented, but would only tell him more stories of the Greatcoats in secret. One of Shiballe’s men overheard him one evening, and the Duke had Bal’s tongue pulled the next day.’
I reached out and grabbed Bal’s other hand. ‘I’m so sorry, my friend. I thought … I thought you’d gone East and stayed there.’
Bal removed his hand and shook his head.
‘He says he needs no pity. He says you must leave this place, tonight if you can. There is nothing here for you but pain and death. He says to go back to the Lord Caravaner, and accept Tremondi’s proposal.’
‘Tremondi’s dead,’ I said.
Both Bal and the boy were silent for a moment. Finally, Bal tapped something very short.
‘Then,’ the boy said slowly, ‘there is nothing for you anywhere but pain and death. Either way, you must go.’
‘But there’s more I need to know, so much Bal can tell me about—’
Bal slammed the table with one fist before tapping furiously on the boy’s arm again.
‘He says he cannot speak to you now, nor ever. He has two things left in this world, fingers to make music and ears to hear it. He says you must not take those away from him.’
I sat back in the chair, suddenly conscious of all the people who could see us, every one of whom could whisper into the Duke’s ear and take away all that remained of Bal’s humanity.
I rose. ‘I’ll go.’ I started to turn but then stopped. ‘Only … who are you? Are you related to Bal in some way?’
The boy shook his head. ‘No. I am simply commanded by the Duke to serve Bal whenever he performs. I must go now. I see my father calls me.’
The boy stepped out from the table and walked purposefully towards the stairs. I looked after him and saw the Duke standing there, his eyes on me.
*
As I walked back down to the Iron Tier I found Kest and Brasti drinking with Feltock. Apparently they were reconciled.
‘Falcio!’ Brasti said. ‘Quite the show up there. I never knew you had it in you. What’s next? Will you be dancing with the Duke himself?’
I gripped his shoulder. ‘Let’s get out of here. I want my room and a bed. In the morning we stop at Lady Tiarren’s mansion and find out what she knows about the Charoites, and then I want to get out of this Gods-forsaken city as fast as possible.’
‘You go,’ Brasti said, raising a cup in the air. ‘If I can’t take the Duke’s life then at least I can drink enough of his wine to make him hurt a little.’
Kest looked into his own cup, his eyes unfocused. ‘That would be difficult, Brasti. The Ducal Treasury of Rijou is likely quite vast. You would need to—’
‘Shut up and drink more wine,’ Brasti said. ‘This could take a while.’
I left them there and took the door from the Iron Tier out to the corridor that led past the kitchens towards the servants’ quarters. I turned a corner and nearly collided with a woman in a purple dress. It was dark enough in the corridor that for an instant I thought it was Valiana. A moment later I realised it was Trin.
‘Falcio,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry, I—’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Are you all right? Shouldn’t you be with Lady Valiana?’
She corrected me. ‘Princess Valiana.’
‘As you say. Why are you here?’
‘I …’ She put a hand on my arm, and then took it away again. ‘It was very brave of you to try and save that family.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ I said. ‘It’s Valiana – Princess Valiana – who is taking the risk here.’
Trin rolled her eyes just for a moment, before looking back at me. ‘Her father the Duke and that fat slug of his will know where the idea came from.’ Trin’s hand appeared on my arm again. ‘They will look for ways to do you harm.’
I had to laugh at that. ‘My dear, the Dukes and their various fat slugs, all of them, have been looking for ways to do me harm since the day I put on this coat. There isn’t much I can do to make that any worse.’
She leaned into me. ‘I wish I could be half so brave.’
The smell of her hair was intoxicating, as was the feel of the curves of her body against mine. ‘You?’ I said, putting my hands on her arms and gently pushing her away. ‘Valiana would be lost without you.’
Trin’s expression was bitter. ‘Oh, the Princess loves me, much as she did her favourite cat as a young girl. She was positively ruined when that cat died – she cried and cried. For almost a full day. Then she asked for a new cat.’
‘I’m sure that’s not …’ The words drifted away from me. I was too weary to deceive her, even in the interests of making her feel better.
‘Valiana will take the throne,’ Trin said, ‘and you and the others will go to find your fortunes elsewhere. Will you forget me, Falcio of the Greatcoats?’
I looked at this young woman, who had shown herself both clever and quiet, beautiful and shy. ‘I don’t think that would be possible.’
She smiled as if I’d just given her a prize, and her lips parted, just a little.
‘I should go,’ I said. ‘It’s late and I’d like to spend as few hours conscious in this city as possible.’
‘The Princess has told me to leave her alone tonight. I’ve never walked the hallways of this palace, and I would not dare to do so alone, though I am told it is very beautiful. Perhaps you and I could find some reason not to sleep?’
She was lovely and intriguing, and I do not get many offers as sweet as that one, not since Aline, my wife, first sought me out at a market dance and—
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go.’
I felt sorry for her, being alone and afraid in a nest of snakes. She was right to want to find some beauty in the world, some companionship, wherever it might be. ‘Perhaps Brasti would—’ I instantly, yet far too late, realised my mistake.
Trin’s face went as cold and dead as a gravestone in winter. ‘I thank you, First Cantor, for your thoughtful recommendation. I have taken up too much of your time.’
She walked right past me down the corridor.
‘Trin, wait …’
But she was already gone.
I stood there for a few minutes, torn between trying to find her to apologise and leaving. She had come to me with kind words and generous intent and I had had turned her away. There were a hundred things I could have said to refuse her while still showing her compassion. Instead, I’d made her feel like a whore. Saints, I thought, heading to the shabby little room they’d given me to share with Kest and Brasti, get me out of this Gods-damned city before I fail at something else.