Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (42 page)

Miranda wanted nothing so much as to go over to Octavia and talk to her, but Quirian might decide to punish Octavia if he thought Miranda was making a bad impression, and she did not want to get anyone killed by distracting them. So she remained alone, standing in the shadow of a statue of Aurelia, leaning on her stick and waiting for the night to end.

"Filia Miranda," Princess Romana appeared beside her, smiling invitingly. "How wonderful to find you here. One might almost suppose you are trying to avoid everyone."

Miranda looked at the princess sideways. Once more, Princess Romana was wearing black, against which her hair shone even more brightly as a splash of colour against the gloom. Unlike most of the ladies present, whose arms were bare, the princess' sleeves went down below her elbows, so that only her unadorned hands and wrists protruded out from them.

"You are very astute, Your Highness," Miranda said softly.

Romana chuckled. "Come. Surely the redoubtable Heir to Aurelia is not so easily frightened by the discourtesy of a few patricians?"

"I see little point in making an effort to be miserable," Miranda said.

"So you will make no effort and be miserable anyway, very sound strategy," Romana replied in a dry tone.

Miranda snorted. She did not need to explain herself to a pampered princess. "I am rather surprised to see you here, your highness."

"I do like to keep an eye on what my brother and his little friends are up to," Romana said brightly. "Whether it is arrogance or foolishness that keeps Antiochus away from gatherings of the White I do not know, but it is unwise of him to absent himself."

"The White?"

"My own small circle of friends," Romana said, a smile crossing her face. "You may meet them soon. That would be very nice."

Miranda said, "My surprise at your presence was at least in part a reference to considerations of your safety. Is it safe for you to venture out?"

"Of course, I am only second in line for the throne," Romana said lightly. "And once Antiochus decided to come it would have seemed strange for me to be hesitant." Prince Antiochus stood on the other side of the courtyard, laughing loudly at some jest of Valens Hadrianus. "Besides, I wanted to see if my dear brother was up to something."

"And persuade me to cease working for him, no doubt," Miranda said.

"In actual fact I thought to find you far more busy lobbying," Princess Romana replied. "Either Quirian's intelligence is not all that I believed or he is keeping secrets from you."

Miranda sighed as she turned to face the princess. "Your Highness, I do not particularly enjoy riddles. Kindly say what you mean."

Princess Romana's face softened as she stared at Miranda for a moment. "The Crimson Rose have risen in Corona province. The entire area has been consumed by rebellion."

Please, God, protect him. Protect them all.
Miranda tightened her grip upon her cane but even so she nearly stumbled backwards, nearly toppling the statue. "You are certain of this?"

"I am," Romana said. "I'm sorry."

"I...oh God, Michael," Miranda murmured.

"Quirian did not tell you?"

"No," Miranda said. "Are you certain he knew?"

"He knows more than any man in the city, save for myself and possibly Lady Manzikes," Romana said. "Why don't you ask him what he knows?"

"I shall do just that," Miranda growled. Before she could start towards him, Romana took her by the arm.

"My condolences were sincere," Romana said quietly. "I am sorry. I grieve for every suffering endured by the children of Aegea."

Miranda took her arm away, but not fiercely or hostilely. "Thank you, Your Highness. Will you excuse me?"

"Of course," Romana said, letting her go on her way.

Miranda moved as quickly as she could towards Quirian, catching him after one conversation had finished but before another could begin.

"Ah, Filia," Quirian said, smiling indulgently. "How are you enjoying the evening."

"Less than I was, now that I have heard some disturbing news of home," Miranda growled.

"Ah, I see you have been talking to Princess Romana," Quirian said.

"So you did know," Miranda snapped. "Is there a reason why you didn't tell me?"

"I wanted you focussed on your work, Filia, not on matters you could not affect. I saw no reason to distract you."

"No reason!" Miranda yelled. She forced herself to calm down. She needed to be calm. People were staring at her. "My home is burning, my brother's life could be in danger if he is not dead already, do you not think that reason enough?"

"I might have," Quirian said slowly. "Had it not been for another piece of information that has come to me by sources as private as Princess Romana's own: your brother lives, but he has fallen in with a man named Gideon Commenae, a traitor to the Empire and a personal enemy of mine. I am afraid that Michael is a far greater threat to us than the Crimson Rose."

"I do not believe that," Miranda replied sharply. "Who is this enemy of yours, this Gideon Commenae? Who has Michael gotten himself involved with?"

"A notorious traitor, renegade and fratricide," Quirian said. "He will kill us both if he gets the chance, and try to use your magic to usurp the purple throne itself."

"How?"

"An arcane ritual which will cause you great pain as you pass away," Quirian said. "Put it from your mind, Filia, he will not harm you while I live. What is more important is that, in the confusion of the rebellion, he has suborned Michael to his cause. It seems he has convinced Michael that I am an enemy of the Empire, that I mean to manipulate or kill you, and that he is the Empire's only true servant and the only man who can save it."

Miranda frowned. It did sound like the sort of thing Michael would swallow whole. He had always had a weakness for heroes, for Great Men, and he could convince himself that practically anyone deserved such titles however much or little they actually did. "He is charismatic, this Gideon Commenae?"

"Very much so, I am afraid."

"And plausible? And noble in his speech?"

"Yes, to both."

"Then I can see it happening all too easily," Miranda said. Her voice became soft and quiet. "What will become of him?"

"By allying himself with Gideon Commenae, Michael has made himself a traitor to the Empire," Quirian said. "The penalty for treason is death."

"He hasn't done anything yet," Miranda protested.

"He is a runaway slave," Quirian pointed out.

"An argument which might hold water with me if I believed in slavery. Unfortunately for you, I do not," Miranda said. "You said it yourself, Michael has been misled. This Gideon Commenae is deceiving him. He's not responsible for what he does when he is being lied to, he is a child!"

"Your brother is a man of twenty winters," Quirian noted.

"But he has the mind of a child, the comprehension of a child, and a stupid one at that," Miranda said. "Please, my lord, for the services I have you done I beg you, have mercy. Let me go to Corona - Lysimachus may take me back there as he brought me here - and speak to him. I know I can reason with him."

"I cannot spare Lysimachus," Quirian said quickly. "I need him here, with the threat of the Unstoppable Man so near and so dangerous. And besides, you would be at unconscionable risk."

"More at risk than here, with the Unstoppable Man around?" Miranda replied. She looked around. "And besides, I don't see Lysimachus here to protect you."

Lucifer coughed quietly. "Lord Father, perhaps Octavia could-"

"Certainly not," Quirian said quickly. "Besides, Octavia has never shown any desire to reveal that particular talent to the world."

"What are you talking about?" Miranda demanded. "Octavia could what?"

"Nothing, Filia, put it from your mind," Quirian purred, his voice silky smooth. "I promise I will do everything I can for Corona, once the situation in the city has stabilised. But for the moment-"

There was a bang outside, and the sound was enough to silence the entire house. The whole courtyard fell deadly silent, even as the sounds of shouting and violence rose to a fearful crescendo without.

"Is he here?" Miranda asked, her voice becoming very small. As she listened to the sounds of the fighting she felt like a little girl again, going to sleep every night without knowing if the Crimson Rose would come and stop her from ever waking again.
Don't worry, our Miranda, I'll protect you.

Liar. You're not even here, and even when you were you couldn't protect mother, or Felix.

But I wish you were here now.

Lucifer's blade slid from the sheath on his back as he raised the staff that was his left arm so that the metal fingers were pointing towards the gate. "To arms the Lost! Form line, swords and spears to the fore, mages and archers to the rear!"

Metella stepped forwards, standing between Quirian and any danger. She had a knife in one hand and a gladius in the other, and her eyes were glowing with an ethereal blue light. In fact her whole body seemed strangely radiant, her skin more luminescent than was normal.

"Be careful," she whispered.

"I shall be as careful as the foe allows," Lucifer responded, pushing through the crowds to join the men and women of the Lost. They all looked so young, Miranda realised, as young as her. What chance did such youth have where Lord Manzikes' veteran soldiers had failed?

Octavia was the only member of the Lost who had not joined the line, instead jogging to Miranda's side as she awkwardly drew her two-handed sword over her lumpy back. Her golden eyes were wide, and her face was pale.

"Do you think it's that assassin?" she asked. "The one they call the Unstoppable Man?"

"How should I know, you're the warrior?" Miranda said. She laughed nervously. "You know, you're really far too worried-looking for a bodyguard. Aren't you supposed to be making me feel confident?"

Octavia didn't laugh. "Whatever happens, I promise I'll protect you."

"Don't talk like that," Miranda said sharply.

"Like what?"

"Like you're going to die," Miranda said. "I've had enough of people trying to die nobly. Death isn't noble. You're going to live. We're all going to live."

Except, judging by the sounds of the fighting going on beyond the gate, quite a few people had died already.

The rest of the guests were slowly retreating towards the house, murmuring in confusion. None of them seemed to have any confidence in the ability of the gates to hold, or of the line of the Lost to repel the attack.

Miranda could understand that, because she did not have an over-abundance of confidence herself.

Acamas Maro was standing in front of his father and mother, arms spread out as though he could protect his parents with his body. Even though his hands were shaking Miranda felt that it was creditable that he was making the attempt. Certainly it was more than some of his fellows could say: Gellius was hiding behind a statue, Valens looked as though he had wet himself, Dio had gone pale with fear and Hippolytus Kyrios was clutching at Prince Antiochus like a hysterical lover in some theatrical melodrama. His Highness did not look impressed by the act, but nor did he look terribly worried. In fact, if Miranda had to say, she would have said his expression was anticipatory.

He was the only man in the assembled company who showed not a trace of fear.

Quirian clapped his hands loudly, and when he spoke his voice carried over the nervous whisperings of the guests. "My lords and ladies, madams and gentlemen, please, I beg of you, do not be alarmed. We are as well protected here as anywhere in the Empire and safer than most places. Aelia, be a good girl and bring up some of our golems. A dozen should more than suffice."

"Um... yes, Lord Father," Aelia said, breaking ranks to run into the back of the house.

"In the meantime," Quirian continued. "Please be calm. There is nothing to fear."

Even as he spoke the sounds of screaming and shouting and the clash of weapons continued outside. Any guards, such as those of the Princess Romana, had been left outside until the night ended. It was they, doubtless, who were presently dying at the hands of the Unstoppable Man.

In fact it was Princess Romana making her way towards Quirian now, sweat droplets beginning to form on her face.

"Pater Quirian," she said, her tone commanding. "You must open the gate and command your men to sally out."

"And why would I do such a tactically unsound thing, Your Highness?" Quirian asked casually.

"Because my men are outside getting slaughtered, I need a sortie to take the pressure off them while there may be some left alive," Romana shouted, pushing past Metella to stand within a few inches of Quirian.

"And why should I risk the lives of my followers to save yours?" Quirian said.

Princess Romana's face contorted into a snarl as she reached up and grabbed Quirian by the scruff of the neck, hauling him downwards so that his face was level with her own. Metella looked wary, but did not react overtly.

Princess Romana snarled into Quirian's face. "You will give the order you damnable upstart or I will have you up on a cross at-"