Heirs of the Blade (59 page)

‘Lived there, have you? And lived a life here, to compare?’ Dal challenged her.

‘
His
people killed my father,’ she hissed, jabbing a finger at the Wasp, who flinched back, startled.

‘Don’t drag me into this. I quit,’ he muttered, but Dal was already shaking his head.

‘If you want to play that game, then one prince or another has killed pretty much everyone I ever knew,’ he said. ‘Oh, certainly it was the Wasps who held the sword, but it was my own kinden, my glorious
betters
, who threw the victims onto it. It’s been some prince or other who’s taxed my kin so that we could only live hand to mouth, and never build anything more on what we had. It’s been your darling prince and his mother here who knocked us down when we tried to set ourselves up like decent folk in Siriell’s Town.’

‘I saw Siriell’s Town,’ Tynisa snapped. ‘There was nothing “decent” there.’

‘Well, I’m sorry we didn’t all live in the castle,’ Dal Arche retorted, a little more fire in his voice now. ‘Perhaps then we’d have fitted your idea of how decent folk live? Tell me, who are you to judge us, living here without care as a guest of the Salmae?’

Tynisa leant closer, feeling obscurely gratified that she had made him angry at last. ‘I’ve seen more of the world than you, old man. I’ve seen the Empire and I know what they value there: tyranny and slavery. I’ve seen Helleron and I know half the Lowlands is just greed running riot, or places like Collegium where good intentions are never quite enough. But I know . . . I
know
the Commonweal. The Commonweal makes good people, who fight for the right things: heroes. I know what the Monarch believes in. I recognize truth and honour and honesty when I see it. A friend taught me about the Commonweal, by the example of everything he ever did. He was the best man I ever knew, and he knew what was right and what was wrong. That’s how I can judge you, thief and murderer that you are. You have rebelled against your rightful rulers, and for that you’ll die.’

She waited for an explosion of wrath, of counter-accusation, even of pleading, but it did not come.

Instead Dal Arche leant back against the wall of the pit. ‘Oh, that does sound grand. If you ever find this mythical place you’re talking about, let me know, I’d like to see it. Until then, I suppose I’ll have to live with the merely
human
nobility who got so many of us killed in the war. At least I won’t have to live with them very long.’

Something nagged at her briefly, some echo of Lowre Cean’s words before the battle, but she shrugged it away. ‘I can judge,’ she repeated. ‘And I can be the one to wield the blade, when your time comes. Better that than suffer the crossed pikes of the Empire, no?’

‘And in your Lowlands?’ he asked her.

‘They were always too soft in Collegium,’ she replied, getting up and turning to go. A thought struck her, and she gave voice to it: ‘You can hardly deny that you’ve earned this, having robbed and pillaged your way across half of the province?’

‘Oh, no, not at all,’ was his reply. ‘We took what we wanted and went wherever we would. But more joined us than fled from us, and for a while at least, we were free of princes. And I will maintain, to death and beyond, that those who condemn us are themselves murderers and thieves greater than we are, and no amount of law and heritage will change that.’

She opened her mouth for a scathing rebuke, but the words did not come to her.
They are criminals going to their just punishment,
she assured herself, but abruptly she had no stomach left for taunting them.

‘When the time comes, I’ll look for a sharp blade and a quick end,’ Dal Arche stated. ‘We’re owed that much, I think.’

She nodded, thrown off balance but not sure why. Inside her head, her mantra whirled:
I love Alain. Alain is a prince. Alain is virtuous, as a prince should be.
And always at the back of that was the knowledge that Alain
must
be virtuous, because Salma had been virtuous. But Salma had been removed from her grasp by his Butterfly lover, and then by death, and so Alain was what she had, and he
must
be as much the man as Salma was. She would not countenance any other option.

The brigands were all staring at her, and she was aware of having stood in silence at the pit’s edge for too long. She turned quickly and stalked away, hoping that such an exit would seem part of her disdain for them, yet all the while wondering what part of her thoughts had been readable in her face.

Castle Leose was busier now than she had ever seen it, for Princess Salme Elass was about to hold some grand piece of festivity, calling all and sundry of noble blood to congratulate her on putting down Dal Arche’s little insurrection. There seemed to be twice as many servants as was usual, a general summons for itinerant entertainers to amuse the anticipated guests. In the castle’s courtyard, Tynisa watched Grasshopper musicians tuning up, whilst their long-legged acrobats leapt and balanced. A troupe of Roach-kinden had appeared, presenting themselves as jugglers and magicians, although it seemed more likely that they were opportunistic wayfarers looking for a free meal. Most disturbing to Tynisa was the trio of dancers apparently brought here at the princess’s express command. They did not practise out in public view, nor did they mingle with their peers, instead clustering together out of the way in a corner that would be shadowed if they had not brought their own light to it. Tynisa had only ever seen one Butterfly in her life, but the woman had been a dancer too, and stirred no fond memories. The mere sight of these shimmering, glowing girls, with their ethereal grace and beauty radiating from every pose and motion, stirred ugly thoughts within her.

When she found Alain again, he was amid a gaggle of other Dragonfly nobles, the same crowd of the young and elegant that had attended the dance – less a few faces like Orian’s, that had been claimed by the fighting. Tynisa paused in an archway, looking out across the sun-splashed open garden, where, in the shadow of carefully intertwined trees, these brightly clad aristocrats were laughing at something the prince himself had just said. She could see how their entire society revolved about him; without him they were nothing, and their status and standing could be read in each individual stance, and in the distance they stood from their prince. She saw how the women amongst them desired him, but she knew that it was only for the chance of becoming the lady of Leose after Salme Elass died. The men admired him and envied his power and bloodline.

Tynisa’s mind seemed to cast shadows over the gathering, painting their faces in darker colours, poisonous and dangerous: bad influences.
Alain would be better away from this place, not entombed in stone and etiquette, not leeched at by these sycophants
. After all,
she
did not care whether he was prince or pauper, so long as he bore Salma’s face. It would make a better man of him if he was removed from all this pointless distraction: just the two of them travelling the world, seeking out any just cause. Perhaps they would end up as Mercers in the service of the Monarch, or fighting the Empire when it inevitably turned its attention westward.

She felt a pressure in her mind that told her she would have to take action soon, just to save him from this wasteful life. Her hand itched for her sword hilt, but she restrained herself. Whilst it seemed likely that such a course as she intended would bring her into fatal conflict with others here, Whitehand and Princess Elass most of all, she must at least try to achieve her ends peaceably. After all, it was possible that Alain was not yet so corrupted by his hangers-on, and that he would come with her willingly. Otherwise she might have to take action, for his own good.

One of the noblewomen had spotted her, and Tynisa noticed the look of disdain on the Dragonfly’s face on seeing the Spider-kinden duellist in her tired old arming jacket, in stark contrast to the shimmering hues of the court. Tynisa smiled at her keenly, enjoying the automatic flinch of the other woman’s response, then she stepped further out into the courtyard. Her approach caused a small flurry, minute changes of pose and position effecting an arrangement that attempted to exclude her, but failed because none of them would interpose themselves between her and Alain. They could sneer at her all they liked, but their derision remained hollow so long as she could see that they were afraid of her.

Only dare challenge me
, she thought, finding that none would even meet her gaze,
and we shall then see who looks down on whom, at the end.

‘Alain,’ she said. He had no fear of her, at least, and he put an easy arm about her shoulders, drawing her close to him. It seemed to her that he was equally amused by the way that she unnerved his compatriots. Secure at his side, she gave them all a sharp-edged smile.
See who he chooses, out of all of you. See who he considers his own?

‘Later,’ the prince told his followers. ‘We’ll discuss later.’ So dismissed, they drifted away in ones and twos, until he and Tynisa were alone, with only the walls and the cloudless spring sky.

‘Discuss?’ she enquired, as the two of them found their way past the twined trees to a half-hidden garden beyond, fragrant with herbs and early flowers and the drone of bees.

‘Discuss the celebrations of our victory – your victory, my huntress. Everyone wants to demonstrate their loyalty and fealty to my mother, for fear of being overlooked when any rewards are handed out. Everyone wants an estate in Rhael when we retake it.’ He grinned at her, that maddening and familiar grin. ‘Another opportunity for you to bloody your blade?’

‘There is more to life than fighting,’ she remarked with raised eyebrows.

His grin intensified. ‘As my wicked huntress has already shown me. Still, I’d assumed that blade-work was your first love.’

She did not say,
You are my first love
, but the words were written on her features clearly enough as she faced him. It was true, as well – if one took him for his brother.

The pause between them was a long one, but his smile did not slip. ‘Do not fear, for I have claimed you as my own, huntress, and you have served me well. You shall be rewarded as well as any.’

‘So tell me,’ she pressed, because that pause concerned her and she sensed adverse influence, perhaps his peers or his family trying to take him from her. ‘What do you promise me, Alain?’

‘Time for that later,’ he assured her. ‘At our celebration we shall bestow all manner of honours on those who have served us well.’

‘I don’t want such a promise from the grand family of the Salmae,’ she pointed out. ‘I want only one from you.’

Still his smile remained constant. ‘And you shall have it, in time.’ Abruptly he broke away from her. ‘But I was summoned some time ago to meet with my mother.’ His grimace was wholly unfeigned. ‘Forgive me, as your company is sweeter by far, but duty is duty.’

She watched him as he left: a flash of wings and a flutter of silk robes, and he was gone in a way she could never follow.

There was a small cold stone suddenly in her heart.
They are taking him from me.
She did not want to act against the Salmae. It seemed absurd, in the face of her recent words to the captive brigands, that she should be contemplating her own insurrection. Still, she could see what was right and what was wrong, and since the hunt she had never been so sure of her judgement. The world was writ in black and white for her now.
I will have to save him from himself
seemed like an inescapable conclusion.

Exiting by way of the twisted trees, she found herself come face to face with Lisan Dea’s severe features, as though the woman had been lying in wait for her.

‘What do you want?’ Tynisa demanded. The surprise had put her sword in her hand instantly.

‘Please recollect that this is my lady’s castle, of which I am seneschal and chief among her servants.’ Despite the woman’s calm tone, the reprimand stung, and Tynisa took a step back, her blade in its scabbard once again. The steward nodded at this concession, and continued. ‘Your part-sister Maker Cheerwell sends word. She has gone to the Turncoat’s home, to be with her travelling companions, and she asks that you join her there. I understand there is some manner of ceremony or ritual that she wishes to carry out – something from your homeland, perhaps?’

‘A ceremony?’ Tynisa blinked at that, wondering if Che intended to stage a one-woman re-enactment of the opening of the Amphiophos or something. The sheer banality of this, and the thought of foolish, amiable Che, brought her out of her reverie, pushing away those thoughts of blood and honour that seemed to cling to her ever closer these days.

‘Perhaps I did not understand her.’ Lisan Dea shrugged bony shoulders. ‘Still, she was very insistent about wishing to speak with you there.’

And leave Alain?
was the first thought that came to her, but some rebellious part of her wanted to seize this opportunity to absent herself, even for a brief while, because otherwise she would have to take action here, and she could feel the repercussions of that looming in her near future like a thunderhead. Today’s Tynisa, steeled with newfound purpose, did not shy from that necessity, but some part of the woman she had been until recently was trying to pull away.

But, no, Alain always came first.

A moment later came a recollection of who ‘the Turncoat’ was, and her stomach lurched.
Che is with Gaved
? Che was with the Wasp who had witnessed Achaeos’s deadly wounding at her hands. He would surely poison her against Tynisa, tell the impressionable Beetle . . . tell her . . .

Tell her the truth.

It was surprising just how great was the feeling of horror that now gripped her, welling up from a time past when she had still felt guilt and grief. Che, poor Che, her sister . . . her awkward, endearingly clumsy playmate. It took her wholly by surprise that having Che finally turned against her, that last door into her old life closed . . . it suddenly mattered more than Alain. She could not bear Che to think badly of her.