Saint's Blood: The Greatcoats Book 3 (40 page)

‘Fellow what?’ Hadiermo interrupted. ‘You’re no fellow of mine, you base-born mutt. Why do you think the Viscounts and Margraves of this pathetic little Duchy put you in that chair? I’ll tell you why – you’ll be easy to remove when someone worthy wants the seat.’

‘And what happens when someone wants
your
seat?’ Tommer asked. He was standing near his father, apparently still determined to run headlong into the first duel he could find. Jillard looked remarkably displeased. With me.

Hadiermo took no offence, instead breaking out into his idea of a hearty laugh. ‘You think some traipsing troop of clerics and a handful of landless Knights will come to
my
home? Domaris has never fallen, boy – Domaris never will.’

It was, in fact, true: Hadiermo’s Duchy had never fallen to any army . . . that’s because a body can’t fall when it’s already sitting down. No enemy had ever had to fight the Iron Duke; he avoided confrontation by letting potential threats run roughshod over his lands – and his people – and persuaded the invaders to let him handle the bureaucracy. It worked a treat for him and his; not so much for the common folk. But he’d always made his views on the peasantry quite clear.

‘So what, then, your Graces?’ Aline asked. ‘You will simply walk away and let Luth be taken – and what then? Will you trade with its new rulers? Will you—?’

‘We will wait,’ Erris said, leaning heavily on his walking stick. I had a profound urge to beat him senseless with it, especially now that I had some experience with using the cane as a weapon. ‘In all likelihood, whatever cleric sits the throne of Luth won’t do so for long.’

‘And if they do?’ Pastien asked.

It was Jillard who answered. ‘My brother Dukes are confident that there is no danger to our own Duchies. Despite recent events, the simple fact remains: we have more than enough troops to protect our own lands. Our minor nobles are well-heeled and our peasants well-fed.’

I’d tried to remain silent, but I found I had to ask, ‘And you, your Grace? Do you agree with their conclusions?’

Jillard looked straight at me. ‘I have been given no reason to believe otherwise, First Cantor.’

The glib answer angered me, not because I expected better of the Duke of Rijou – he was, after all, still a vile man whom I fully planned to kill one day – but because he was right. We had spent half the night debating how the Church might take over the country. Aline had studied every day under Valiana, I had learned from her father, Kest had read everything that had ever been written on warfare, and the Tailor – well, she knew everything that hadn’t been written. We could see any number of ways in which the Church might take over several of the Duchies – maybe even all of them, but we could see no means by which they could keep them. It’s one thing to conquer and quite another to hold.

Duke Erris’ cackle brought me back to the room. ‘He’s not the First Cantor any more,’ the old man said. He pointed to Quentis Maren. ‘The Inquisitors have the task of administrating the Law now. May they do a better job with it than the former holders of that office.’ He reached into his robes and drew out a rolled document fastened with an ostentatious ribbon. ‘This decree removes the Greatcoats from authority.’

‘May I see that, your Grace?’ Aline asked.

One of the old Duke’s retainers took the decree and quickly ran it up the dais to hand it to Aline. She opened it, read it out loud and then handed it to Valiana. There was a bit of fumbling, but once she had it securely in her hands, she tore the document in half and half again, and let the pieces drift down to the floor.

‘What madness is this?’ Erris demanded.

‘It appears the Realm’s Protector has elected to override your decree,’ Aline said. She looked at Quentis Maren and his fellow Inquisitors. ‘Your services won’t be required, Cogneri.’

Quentis locked eyes with me, as if asking what exactly I thought this would accomplish.

I shrugged amiably.

Duke Erris was trembling with rage. ‘There
is
no Realm’s Protector. Look at her! She sits there, deaf, dumb, and blind behind an iron mask. She can’t—’

Aline rose from her chair. ‘She can, Duke Erris, and she has.’ When Hadiermo started to rumble something about children overstepping their bounds, she stepped forward to the front of the dais and stood there alone, a girl of fourteen facing three of the most powerful men in Tristia. ‘We are done here, your Graces. You have made your decisions, and we have made ours. Go back to your homes. Take your crowns with you, and enjoy them while you can.’

‘Careful, little girl,’ Hadiermo said, his usual barrelling voice quiet, like a snake hissing before it strikes. ‘You live only so long as we allow it.’

‘Then I can’t imagine that will be very long, your Grace,’ she said, unmoved, ‘for my father ruled only five years before you took his life.’

Erris coughed out a laugh. ‘And you think you’ll sit his throne, child?’ He motioned towards me. ‘Has this fool really convinced you that you’ll
ever
take power?’

‘The odds aren’t good, I admit,’ Aline replied. ‘But you forget one thing, Duke Erris: people have been trying to kill me my entire life. They have all failed.’ She let her gaze fall on each of the three Dukes in turn. ‘Despite all your best efforts, it’s just possible that I might surprise you all and sit the throne of Aramor one day soon. I suggest you keep that thought in mind when you call me
child
.’

There was a brief moment of silence as they weighed her words, but Hadiermo, the Iron Duke, wasn’t going to be cowed. ‘The hells for this,’ he said. ‘Make your threats, you little bitch. Were you a true warrior I would challenge you here and now.’

Without missing a beat, she said, ‘Were
you
a true warrior, Duke Hadiermo, I might accept. Since neither of us appear suited to the task, take your leave of us.’ She turned to Pastien. ‘Unless you have further use of the Ducal Council, my Lord?’

It took a while for Pastien’s tongue to come unstuck. ‘No . . . no further use, your Majest— I mean, my Lady.’

I would have expected the Dukes to fume some more, perhaps make a few more threats, promise all kinds of retribution, but the truth was, these weren’t stupid men; they’d said what they’d come to say and there was nothing left to discuss. The Dukes would leave Luth to fall, and hope we’d go with it. All of this had been a stage play, targeted at one man: Duke Jillard. He was the most likely to support us if we came through the next few days; we’d needed to show him that we weren’t giving up.

‘Good luck,’ he said as he walked by, a firm hand on the back of Tommer’s collar. It actually sounded like he meant it.

Once the Dukes and their entourages had left, Quentis and his Inquisitors approached me. ‘We will remove ourselves from the palace for tonight,’ he said. He looked more than a little pained. ‘I want you to know that I wasn’t aware of any plans to . . . I’m a man of the Law, Falcio. The Council of Clerics doesn’t consult me on politics. I investigate what they tell me to investigate and I—’

His sincerity annoyed me. ‘You don’t care that your Saints are being murdered to put your clerics in power? You don’t care that the desecrated churches are—?’

‘You’re wrong, First Cantor. The men I work for . . . they may not be perfect, but they are devout. I truly believe they would never sully their souls with such acts.’

‘Sure,’ I said, ‘because no one’s ever committed a crime in the name of the Gods.’

He raised a hand. ‘We’re not going to agree on this, Falcio. Out of respect for . . . well, out of respect, I’m pulling my men from the palace. We’ll make camp a little ways down the road. But in a few hours, when the delegation comes, my Council is going to command me to help secure the palace and I’m going to have no choice but to do so.’ He glanced down to the pistol at his side. ‘You’re fast, Trattari, but you’re not
that
fast.’

It was strange. Against my better judgement I sort of liked Quentis Maren. We were both men of the Law, magistrates and duellists. We might not agree on everything, but we understood each other. So I really didn’t hold any ill will towards him. I smiled and said, ‘You never know, Cogneri. Sometimes I surprise people.’

‘Well, that was fun,’ Brasti said, descending from the gallery with his bow in hand. Kest, Mateo, Ethalia and the Tailor followed him. We had decided that we probably didn’t need to aggravate the situation by having more of us annoying the Dukes than necessary – also, it helps to keep a little surprise prepared, just in case things don’t go to plan. ‘Anyone want to tell me what the point of that little performance was?’

I was about to answer when Aline cut me off. ‘It was a rehearsal,’ she said. Her eyes caught mine. ‘For all of you.’

The tone of her voice took me unawares. ‘I don’t understand. I thought we wanted to show Jillard that—’

Aline turned to Pastien. ‘Summon your chamberlain and the captain of your guards now, please.’

The young Ducal Protector signalled for his page, who took off at a run for the door.

‘What are you doing, sweetling?’ the Tailor asked, looking not at all pleased.

Aline stepped down from the dais to stand in front of Kest. ‘What is the avertiere’s weakness?’ she asked.

He was surprised by the question. ‘In fencing, the avertiere’s weakness is his reliance on the opponent trying to deflect the false attacks.’

‘Child,’ the Tailor said, ‘this isn’t the time for—’

Aline took up an imaginary guard position against Kest, extending her right arm as though it held a sword. ‘And if his opponent doesn’t parry? If he attacks instead?’

Kest shook his head. ‘It’s not that simple: if you don’t parry the attack’ – he lunged with his left hand, touching her shoulder before she could react – ‘the avertiere will simply follow through and deliver the blow.’

She reached out her other hand and held onto Kest’s. ‘A sacrifice is made, but now you can no longer attack your true target and I am free to counter-attack.’

‘So long as you aren’t dead,’ I said, not liking where this was going.

Aline returned to the dais and walked to where Valiana sat unmoving. She took one of her hands and helped her up. ‘Any attempt to permanently transform this country hinges on eliminating Valiana. She’s the one who holds Tristia together.’

‘Sweetheart,’ Brasti said, taking a seat on the floor next to one of the pillars, ‘I know you look up to her, but—’

She cut him off. ‘Don’t treat me like a child, Brasti Goodbow. It just makes you look like an idiot.’

‘She’s right,’ Kest said slowly. ‘Not about Brasti being an idiot . . . well, perhaps that too, but mostly that Valiana’s the one who’s been building the relationships that have kept money flowing into Aramor and kept the Dukes from walking away from the Council. It’s all been on her shoulders.’

I looked over at this girl of barely twenty, standing a few feet away from me, trapped behind the mask. How could one young woman hold the weight of an entire nation on her shoulders?
With no help from you
, I realised bitterly. I’d been a selfish fool every step of the way, trying to prove the Greatcoats were still relevant, that
I
was still relevant, and all the while, our enemies had been plotting not against me or even Aline, but against Valiana, and through her, the entire country.

‘Fine,’ Brasti said, ‘but she can’t do the job now, so we need a new Realm’s Protector.’

Kest shook his head. ‘No, it’s as I told you before, it doesn’t work that way. The legal provisions in the
Regia Maniferecto De’egro
governing the appointment of a Realm’s Protector are archaic. There’s no mechanism for replacement, or succession, or anything else.’

‘So who’s in charge then?’ Tommer asked.

‘I am,’ The Tailor said finally. ‘As the girl’s grandmother, I am the only one who can stand as her regent while there is no Realm’s Protector. That’s a law older than the written word in this country.’

‘Hang on,’ Brasti said, getting to his feet. ‘Let me grab my bow again.’

‘My grandmother is right,’ Aline said. ‘There are going to be hard decisions that will have to be made and we can’t afford dissension between us. Someone has to take charge if we are to be united.’

The Tailor rose to her feet. ‘Wise girl,’ she said. ‘All right, here’s—’

‘Sit down,’ Aline said. She didn’t wait for compliance, but instead spoke to all of us in a clear, steady voice. ‘I am the heir to the throne of Tristia. The Realm’s Protector exists only to act in my stead. If she dies or cannot perform her duties, then by those ancient laws Kest was referring to, those powers revert to me.’ She glanced over at the Tailor. ‘Not to you, nor anyone else. To
me
.’

‘That’s . . . one interpretation,’ Kest said.

‘It’s the only one that matters.’

The doors to the throne room opened and the page returned with the palace chamberlain and the captain of the guards. Neither looked very comfortable.
It’s probably hard to be cheerful when you know you’re hours away from being attacked.
Pastien took two rolled decrees from his coat and handed one to each of the men awaiting him. ‘Captain Ciradoc, Chamberlain Matrist,’ he said. ‘As of now the Duchy of Luth is no longer sovereign, and thus it falls under the command of the Crown.’ He bowed to Aline. ‘The heir will give you your orders now.’

The Chamberlain looked like he’d just choked on something. ‘But how can—?’

‘Gentlemen, time is short,’ Aline said. ‘Captain Ciradoc, in a few hours the clerics and their Knights will arrive, fully intending on taking the palace. When they do . . .’ She stopped and looked over at the rest of us before finishing, ‘You will let them.’

‘Wait, what?’

Aline gave a flick of her finger to silence me.

‘You want us to lay down arms?’ Ciradoc asked.

‘More than that. You will place yourself and your men under the command of the clerics.’

‘I don’t understand . . . are we to pretend—?’

‘Don’t pretend,’ Aline said. ‘Follow their orders. The people of this Duchy have already suffered enough chaos and confusion. The clerics are taking this palace. Make the transition as smooth as you can.’