Knight's Shadow (34 page)

At first I thought she was playing some foolish prank on me – then realised that if Thesian had shaken her hand, he would immediately have felt the rough calluses on her skin, hardly the mark of a noblewoman.
Smart
. Had she always been this clever?

I shook hands with Thesian, which was an even more unpleasant sensation than I’d expected, and we left the back room of his shop and set out for the Teyar Rijou.

‘That was nicely done,’ Kest said to Valiana.

‘Yeah,’ Dari chimed in, ‘you make a convincingly arrogant bitch.’

‘Old habits.’ She favoured us with a grin. ‘Now let me find an alley so I can get out of these ridiculous clothes. I certainly don’t want to meet the odious Shiballe without my Greatcoat and sword.’

‘We’re really trusting our lives to that fat slug?’ Dariana asked. ‘And not just a fat slug, but one who works for the other fat slug, Shiballe – the one who tried to have Falcio killed? Aren’t you worried he’ll just betray you?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m trusting our lives to that fat slug, and yes, of course he’s going to betray us.’

*

An hour later we stood in the centre of the Teyar Rijou with Shiballe standing in front of us, his soft, fleshy hands planted on his wide hips and an obscenely self-satisfied smirk on his lips. A hundred Ducal Knights surrounded us, their swords drawn.

So my plan had worked.

There were two possible truths currently competing in my mind for dominance. The first was that my King was exactly the man I had always believed him to be: a brilliant strategist who could divine the future by looking at the past; the man who had created the Greatcoats and placed them exactly where they should be when the country needed them most. That man had put Winnow in Aramor and Nile in Luth to try to protect the Dukes from assassinations that Paelis had somehow predicted.

The other possibility was that King Paelis had been nothing more than a petty tyrant, concerned only with his own lineage; that he had set the pieces in play to ensure that once one of his heirs was discovered, all those who might stand in their way would be destroyed utterly.

And this moment, standing right here with a hundred Ducal Knights encircling us: this was where I would finally determine which King was real; which man I had served.

‘I know you’re there,’ I shouted to the men in armour standing there with their swords drawn, turning as I spoke, trying in vain to meet each pair of eyes. ‘I can’t see you under your helmet, but I know you’re there.’

‘What insanity has taken you, Trattari?’ Shiballe asked.

‘Shut up,’ I said. ‘I’m busy.’

‘I’ll have you—’

‘It’s time,’ I said, giving my voice as much authority as I could muster. ‘Whatever mission you’ve been on, whatever it is you think you’re here to do, the Duke is going to be killed unless I help him, and I can’t do that if my head is decorating a pike.’

Shiballe started laughing, but when Kest and Dariana reached for their swords, I held out a hand to stop them. ‘Easy,’ I said.

‘I believe we’ll have a contest,’ Shiballe said. ‘I’ll have one of my cooks prepare your flesh, and the man who eats the most fried Trattari without voiding his stomach will win a gold purse. Oh, and your tatty old coat – the winner can take that too, maybe hang it on their wall as a trophy.’

Some of the Knights began laughing at that and I could see Shiballe was puffing out his chest, readying himself to play to his audience.

I was running out of time. ‘Fine,’ I said, allowing the frustration to creep into my voice, ‘I don’t usually like to pull rank but you’re starting to piss me off.’ I paused and looked down at the ground just a moment.
It’s just you and me now, you smart-arsed, gangly excuse for a King.

Then I lifted my head and said, ‘My name is Falcio val Mond, First Cantor of the King’s Magisters, and I hereby command the Greatcoat disguised among you to reveal himself and report. That’s an order.’ I should have stopped there, but like a fool I added, ‘I mean it.’

Shiballe nearly fell backwards once he realised what I’d just said. ‘You really are something, Trattari.’ He waved to the Knight-Captain. ‘Sir Jairn, arrest these fools.’

The Knight-Captain came forward, a large man who needed a prodigious amount of armour to cover his broad shoulders and barrel chest. He stood in front of me as if he were waiting for me to do something.

‘Sir Jairn?’ Shiballe said.

The Knight removed his helmet. Underneath was a still-young face with dusty blond hair and a short beard covering wide-set features. He still bore the scar I remembered him taking in a duel in a village in Aramor years before. ‘Parrick Edran, at your command, First Cantor,’ he said. He turned to look down at Shiballe with disgust on his face. ‘If your first command is to kill the slug I would be very appreciative. But I think we should go and see the Duke first.’

Chapter Twenty-Eight

An Unusual Alliance

Shiballe tried to have the other Knights arrest Parrick, or Sir Jairn as he was calling himself these days, and that put us at a bit of a stand-off at first. But most of these men had served with ‘Sir Jairn’, and it turned out he made a terrific Knight-Captain: he’d led the fight in dozens of border skirmishes from the front, risking his own life right alongside his fellow Knights.

And Shiballe was clearly loathed; he was reviled as a conniving manipulator who plotted intrigues in the shadows, leaving others to fight and bleed for his machinations. Furthermore, Knights believe wholeheartedly in the chain of command – I’m pretty sure it’s bred into them with their mothers’ milk – and Shiballe, despite his dark influence at court, was in no way part of that chain.

In the end Parrick surrendered himself to his Knight-Sargent, Sir Coratisimo, who agreed with him that it would be better to settle any questions of imprisonment and execution at the palace, once the Duke had had a chance hear these revelations. Parrick was nominally under arrest, but despite Shiballe’s protestations, no one put handcuffs on him.

‘It’s a fucking mess, First Cantor,’ Parrick said as we walked along the wide marble hallways of the Ducal Palace. ‘We’ve had reports of problems all around the duchy, even beyond the borders. There are internal complications, too: our Knight-Commander left yesterday with two hundred Knights, apparently to patrol the eastern border.’

‘What’s going on at the eastern border?’

‘Nothing – as far as I can tell, he left against the Duke’s orders. I know it’s unbelievable, but I’m beginning to suspect that there’s some kind of mutiny going on.’

‘What about the north?’ I asked. ‘Has Trin broken through?’

‘Duchess Trin has her army stationed in southern Domaris, but she’s still getting hammered in sneak attacks by what’s left of Duke Hadiermo’s forces,’ he told us with a grin. ‘The Duke’s men have formed up in smaller squads and now they’re using really inventive ways to kill off as many of Trin’s men as they can – who would ever have thought that Duke Hadiermo had a mind for tactics? I always thought he was a bit of an idiot.’

But the Tailor had expected Hadiermo’s forces to crumble . . . ‘I doubt he was responsible,’ I said after a moment. ‘The Tailor’s Greatcoats are likely leading those squads now.’

Parrick frowned. ‘I’ve heard noises about the Tailor having assembled new Greatcoats. What are they like?’

‘Like her,’ I said, pointing to Dariana. ‘Excellent fighters with no conscience whatsoever.’

Dariana smiled. ‘Now, Falcio, people are going to think you fancy me if you keep flattering me like this.’

Parrick looked at her. ‘Not sure how I feel about
new
Greatcoats. Did the Tailor think there was something wrong with the rest of us?’

‘Only that you proved to be completely useless,’ Dariana replied. ‘And given you’ve apparently spent the last five years protecting one of the men who killed your King that, I think, is a bit on the generous side.’

Parrick looked stricken and I knew it was more than simply having failed the King – after all, we were all guilty of that. But talking to him now, as if he hadn’t stood by and done nothing when—

But no, I wasn’t ready to deal with that yet. ‘Parrick, what exactly did King Paelis tell you – what was his last order?’

Parrick had trouble meeting my eyes – not that I blamed him; after all, the King had ordered him to keep his final mission a secret, just like he had the rest of us.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘There’s not much point in keeping secrets now.’

‘That’s just it, though,’ Parrick said. ‘All he told me was that I should join the Knights of Rijou and guard the Duke’s life – that was it; he didn’t give me any more information than that. And he made me swear to do it, no matter what. I . . . I nearly broke my promise, Falcio, when I saw you here . . . and then, when the Duke went to Pulnam with five hundred men, he ordered me to stay here and keep the peace – otherwise I’m not sure what I would have done.’

‘Leave it for now,’ I said.

‘We’re here.’ He pointed at the entrance to the throne room of Rijou. ‘I hope you have a damned good reason for being here and forcing me to break cover, because I’m fairly sure I’m going to be executed for infiltrating the Ducal Knights of Rijou.’

‘As a matter of fact, I do have an excellent reason,’ I said. ‘I’m here to warn Duke Jillard that someone’s planning to assassinate him.’

Parrick stopped dead and looked at me as if I’d just walked into a ballroom completely naked. ‘Falcio—’ He took a deep breath before adding, ‘Saints, that’s all you’ve got? Someone’s already tried to kill the Duke – we caught the bastard three days ago.’

I looked at the twenty Knights surrounding us and the smirking Shiballe behind them, then into the throne room of the man who’d sworn to see me dead and who now had no reason whatsoever to keep me alive.

*

Jillard, Duke of Rijou, wasn’t handsome so much as well-groomed. Like most wealthy nobles he could afford to keep himself fit, dress in the latest fashions and remain impeccably coiffed. Thanks to a sharp barber and the finest imported oils his black hair and short beard were always well-groomed, and today he sported a rich purple robe brocaded with silver and gold. He sat on the throne of Rijou, towering above us as if he were waiting to pass judgement. I suppose he was.

‘Well, now that I have you, Falcio val Mond, what shall I do with you?’ He played with a gaudy red-and-gold ring, turning it round and round on his finger, an odd, almost anxious mannerism for a man who could have us killed with a single gesture. ‘You never come alone, do you? You always bring complications to my door.’ He leaned forward and peered at Valiana. ‘And I see you’ve brought the girl Patriana tried to pass off as my daughter. You look rather plain in that tatty coat, my dear. Shall I have Shiballe bring you a nice dress?’

Valiana gave a slight curtsey. ‘I’m more comfortable as I am, your Grace.’

‘You might find that coat rather confining in the near future,’ Jillard said.

Parrick spoke up before I could. ‘Your Grace, I beg you, listen to Falcio; he’s—’

‘Silence, Sir Jairn – or, no, it’s – what?
Parrick?
Well, whoever you are, you have saved my life, and on more than one occasion, but now I am forced to wonder to what purpose. There is breath instead of blood in your lungs only because I haven’t yet decided whether to behead you as a traitor or hang you as a spy.’

‘With all due respect, your Grace,’ I said, ‘I don’t see how you could accuse Parrick of being a spy.’

‘No? Shiballe tells me he’s been skulking about under the guise of a Knight here in my home for nearly five years.’

‘Yes, your Grace, but in fairness, the King was dead
before
Parrick arrived, so there wasn’t anyone for him to be spying
for
, if you see what I mean.’

‘And you believe that now is the time to show off your debating skills?’ Jillard smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. And yet underneath his smug expression I could have sworn I saw a slight twitch: a tiny flash of discomfort, maybe even fear.

Shiballe rose. ‘Your Grace, I will summon my personal guards and deal with this traitor.’

‘Kneel,’ the Duke said. ‘I think I like you better on your knees right now, Shiballe. I’m not entirely sure what I pay you for but I would have thought it included being able to figure out that one of my Knight-Captains is actually a Trattari.’

The overstuffed worm immediately dropped to the ground, which pleased me.

‘Now you,’ the Duke said, his eyes on Parrick. ‘You were one of my best Knights – at least until an hour ago. But despite what you’ve done for me in the past, why should I trust you now that I know you’re a traitor?’

A shadow crossed Parrick’s face. ‘Was I a traitor when I saved your life three years ago, when the ambassador from Avares tried to stick a knife in your throat? Was I a traitor when I kept you from falling to your death in that canyon when your horse broke its leg?’ Parrick turned to look at me, his face sick with guilt. ‘Was I a traitor when I stood by and watched as you—?’

Jillard rose suddenly from his throne. ‘And all the while doing it under the orders of a dead tyrant and
never
out of loyalty to me!’

The memories of my last stay in Rijou sparked a sudden anger in me, and only Kest’s hand on my arm kept me from drawing my rapiers. How could Parrick have served a man like Jillard? How could he have stood by him every day as he carried out one capricious atrocity after another? Why would King Paelis
ever
have given Parrick such an order? And how could he ever have followed it?

And yet
, I realised,
Parrick’s actions are exactly what’s going to save us now
.

‘Your Grace,’ I said, ‘I believe I can give you an overwhelming reason to trust Parrick.’

The Duke sat back down, his eyes still on Parrick. ‘Really? You think that you of all people can convince me of this Trattari’s loyalty?’

I chose my next words very carefully. ‘When I was last here in the palace, you sent me to your dungeons. You had your men beat me. You let Patriana . . . you let her do things to me, and to Aline.’ I turned to Parrick, feeling almost guilty for what I was about to say.
Almost
. ‘You were here that whole time – when the Duke’s men dragged me here in chains, when they took me down to his dungeons and tortured me: you were right here, in this palace.’

Parrick’s face was ashen. ‘Saints, Falcio, I’m sorry. I know you must despise me, and I don’t blame you. But you have to believe me: the King made me swear . . . he made me swear that no matter what I saw, no matter what the Duke did . . . Falcio I would never—’

I cut him off with a look. I wasn’t ready to forgive, not yet. ‘If this man was going to betray you, Duke Jillard, surely he would have done it then?’

Jillard swirled the wine inside his goblet as if he were trying to shake the answer loose. ‘I suppose that’s true,’ he said at last. ‘In the end I was betrayed by a great number of people, including my own torturer.’ Jillard leaned over to me. ‘We caught him the next day, you know.’

‘He had nothing to do with my escape,’ I said, too quickly to be convincing.

‘He unlocked the door and let you out!’ the Duke pointed out. ‘He admitted as much, and then he proceeded to repeat the King’s Laws, over, and over, and over – and not one of which he got correct, I should add. He said all this to my face, and proudly, too. Of course, he was a little less proud once we got him on the rack.’

‘He called out your name a great deal towards the end,’ Shiballe said from behind me, as if sensing an opportunity to get back into the Duke’s good graces. ‘I imagine many others have done the same over the years.’

‘Falcio,’ Kest warned.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, though I wasn’t entirely fine, for my hand had apparently drifted rather close to the hilt of one of my rapiers again. ‘You’re a fool, your Grace, to play at these petty games of revenge while the country falls to pieces around you.’

‘My torturer
betrayed
me,’ Jillard said, slamming his fist down on the arm of his throne. He quickly regained his composure as his gaze drifted to Parrick. ‘But not you: you could have freed this Trattari had you so chosen – in fact, it would have been surprisingly easy to do so without being caught.’

Parrick looked like he was going to be sick.

‘Very well,’ he said at last, still turning the ring round and round on his finger, ‘I will grant that I have some small cause to trust Parrick. But you, Falcio val Mond: why should I believe you? You conceded my freedom after my men failed me in Pulnam, but that was nothing more than a necessary political manoeuvre on your part. It doesn’t put us on the same side.’

I’d been waiting for this. I looked back at my Greatcoats, old and new, hoping I wasn’t about to condemn them to be buried beneath the heavy stone floors of Jillard’s palace. ‘I’m not on your side, your Grace – how could I be? You’re a monster. You ordered the murder of the Tiaren family and countless others, and mostly for spurious reasons. You sent every kind of killer you could after me – and worse, after the King’s heir. Even when you lost the Ganath Kalila you tried to break your own laws to end Aline’s life. You’re a snake, Duke Jillard, and I have every intention of seeing your head severed from your body.’

The Duke looked ever so slightly unsettled. ‘Well then, that simplifies things—’

‘But not now, and not today. Your death would be the final straw, the one that would break the back of this country. If whoever killed Duke Isault and Duke Roset gets to you, then civil war – and your darling daughter Trin – will drive us all into whichever of the thousand hells she has planned for us.’

Jillard gave a laugh, and this time it actually sounded genuine. ‘
Trin?
That’s
what’s brought you to your knees in front of me? You baffle me, Trattari, really you do. Trin has her mother’s armies and some small portion of her cunning, and she will no doubt amuse herself running around the north playing commander.’ He leaned forward on his throne and added silkily, ‘But should she dare to bring her men across Rijou’s border, then my soldiers will show her the courtesy I should have shown her unlamented mother long ago.’

‘You speak boldly for a man who just lost his Knight-Commander and two hundred of his Knights, your Grace,’ Kest said. Sounding genuinely curious, he asked, ‘So now who will lead the charge for your soldiers when Trin’s forces come calling?’

‘Dealing with petty betrayal is the price of my position.’ He leaned back and waved a hand absently in the air. ‘Besides, you have solved the problem for me, you and your fellow Trattari.’

‘How so?’ I asked.

‘Didn’t one of your own Greatcoats – Winnow, I believe – didn’t she murder the Duke of Aramor? Isault never liked my idea of sharing troops to guard the borders, but this new Ducal Protector of theirs – Sir Shuran? He will need my support if he hopes to hold off the nobles who are even now plotting to break Aramor into little chunks just large enough for them to rule. In fact, I’ve already sent envoys to negotiate for a thousand of Shuran’s best Knights.’