Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

Lord Quirian was waiting for her, dressed in a toga of sky blue. At the sight of Miranda he rose and proferred an elaborate bow. "Ah, Filia Miranda, a thousand good mornings." He took Miranda's hand in his own and half raised it to his lips before he said, "Ah, but I forgot. You cannot abide such flummery."

"Indeed not," Miranda replied. "May I sit?"

"By all means. You have broken your fast already?"

"Yes, with Octavia," Miranda said as she sat down. "I must say my lord, as kind of you as it was to give me a maid and a bodyguard I require neither."

Quirian smiled fondly. "There is nothing wrong with self reliance, Filia Miranda, but equally there is no shame in accepting the aid of those who mean you well."

"That depends how patronisingly the aid is offered," Miranda retorted.

"Patronising? Pray, Filia, enlighten me on how it is patronising to consider that the city streets can be rough and wild, especially for newcomers to the harlot of the world."

"And Abigail?"

"All the best ladies are attended by servants, Filia, and with me as your host and Prince Antiochus as your patron you must accustom yourself to the fact that you have entered into society," Quirian said. "I would not wish you to look too poor before the ladies of court."

"I am poor," Miranda replied. "Compared to the likes of great patrician ladies."

"Simply because you do not have a mountain of glittering wealth looted from temples and palaces beyond count to rest upon does not mean you must go to the palace dressed in beggar's rags. I shall see you are given new clothes."

Miranda looked herself up and down. "What's the matter with the way I'm dressed?"

Quirian smiled. "Nothing at all, Filia, for a provincial maid. Very pretty. But you cannot attend court so attired."

"Oh for goodness' sake," Miranda snapped. "Am I here to work or to attend parties? Provided I give him his army what should Prince Antiochus care how I dress? If you will pardon me I should prefer to discuss business rather than fashion."

Quirian nodded. "Speak on, Filia, I am attentive."

"Lysimachus made some preliminary offer of my fee, but there is no settled agreement between us on the matter," Miranda said. "I should also like to discuss my lodgings."

"His Highness will pay you five eternals a day," Quirian said. "Does that satisfy?"

Miranda's jaw hung open.
Five eternals a day?
A gold eternal was the highest denomination in the Empire, and you could hire a hundred and fifty labourers for a day with five of them, or near enough. She had never charged more than three eternals for any service no matter how severe the ailment or how rich the patient. Most transactions were done in copper pennies or, at most, in silver shillings.
One year of this and I would be rich enough to go back home and buy half of Lover's Rock
.

"That is...yes," Miranda stammered. "I will take it, gladly. Now, as for my accommodation─"

"If you are not satisfied with your room, Filia, I have many others," Quirian said.

"I am sure you do," Miranda replied. "But I had always intended to find a house of my own in the city, something modest. I have brought money with me, I shall not need to beg you for an advance."

Quirian's smile faded. His brown eyes hid his thoughts. He said, "I am afraid, Filia, that that will hardly be possible. As I said, you are new to the city and to the currents that run through it. In light of your importance to our cause, His Highness and I would prefer it if you remained here with me."

"I would not prefer it," Miranda said.

"And your happiness is of great concern to me, Filia, but I must insist," Quirian said. "What would happen if the Lord Commenae decided to set his chariot faction on you while you were beyond my protection?"

"Is that likely?"

"I would not rule it out," Quirian replied. "Besides which, it will be much more convenient to do your work here if you live here also."

"Perhaps, but it will also mean surrendering a great many of my rights," Miranda said. Tenants, which term in law encompassed long term guests who paid no rent yet had no home of their own, had fewer rights than property owners under the Aenean Code. As the head of the Callistus family - since Michael was a slave and had thus by the alchemy of law been transmuted into no better than a chair - and as the owner of her own house Miranda had been permitted to vote in the elections for the town aedile and for candidates for the comitia. As a citizen of the fourth rank she could own up to twenty slaves, not that she would have wanted to, sit on a jury and bring complaint before a magistrate. If she became Lord Quirian's guest on a permanent basis, and so surrendered her stake in the community of citizens, then she would also give up her local voting rights, her right to sit on a jury and if she wished to approach a magistrate she would have to find a patron and petition them to make complaint on her behalf. And without property she would probably descend into the fifth or even sixth ranks of citizenship come the next census, if she remained homeless by then. None of that added up to a prospect that Miranda relished, to say the least.

"I know that I ask much of you with this, Filia, but I ask you to recognise that I offer much in recompense, far more than I ask you to surrender," Quirian replied. "What is the right to sit of a jury having your ears wearied by buffoons, or to vote for some self-important town aedile, compared to the ability to whisper into the ear of a prince and shape the policy of an entire nation?"

"The law does not respect those who whisper in the ear of princes," Miranda replied.

"Oh, the law, fie on the law!" Quirian snapped as he stood up and started pacing up and down. "What is the law to people like you, Filia, touched by the gods themselves and set apart from the common run of men? Are you not better than them by the same measure by which a man is better than a dog?"

"I consider myself fortunate, rather than better," Miranda replied dryly. "In any case, however better I may be you are asking me to lower myself when I have spent my whole life trying to climb upwards."

"Lower only to those who care about such things, which is very few," Quirian insisted. "Tell me honestly, do you believe that our democratically elected magistrates possess the slightest degree of power or authority? That your vote carries the slightest weight? Every last blustering member in the Comitia is in the pocket of some interest or other. The Lord Commenae alone holds fifty members in the palm of his hand, the Red faction can muster seventy all told. There's not a man in the Chamber of Commons who is not owned by some patrician or other, unless it is those who are owned by the publicani. All of them are nought but dull, sleepy-eyed fools, led by the occasional man of talent whom the great lords have sponsored and corrupted.

"I offer you real power, Filia, real influence. And if the forms and trappings of democracy mean so very much to you, well then your services are concluded you may take your wealth and buy a rotten borough, appointing your own man to the Chamber to speak the words you tell him and vote as you direct."

"Your notion of democracy leaves something to be desired," Miranda murmured. "But I see that you will not let the matter rest until I agree, and I will not deny you make more than one good point. I suppose by the time of the next census I will have moved up in the ranks of citizenship yet further, on what you are offering to pay me. My rights will return to me soon enough, I suppose."

Quirian smiled broadly. "Excellent, Filia. Truly wonderful. I knew that I could rely upon you to see reason. I am glad that we could settle that. I hope that you will also be so reasonable as to retain the services of Abigail and Octavia."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Very well. In for a penny, in for a shilling. Or five eternals a day, in my case."

Quirian clapped his hands together. "Excellent. Excellent. Now, Lord and Lady Maro have invited you to attend a soiree they are holding this evening and, as they are among the most prominent supporters of Prince Antiochus, it would be most remiss if you were not to attend. All other considerations aside it will be an excellent opportunity for you to meet the prince."

Miranda pursed her lips together. "I would not want to embarrass His Highness, I've no idea how to behave amongst princes and lords."

"I am sure your natural grace will shine through," Quirian said. Whether he was being sincere or not Miranda could not be sure.

"Perhaps," Miranda said as she stood up. "In the meantime I suppose you'd like me to start earning my keep, wouldn't you?"

Quirian said, "If you would like to start now, Filia, I have no inclination to dissuade you. Please, this way." He gestured towards the courtyard, and began to lead her that way.

The courtyard was large, but deserted save for Captain Lucifer and a small group of people working in one corner of the yard carving stone. Suddenly Octavia burst out of the door and into the courtyard. She had strapped what looked like an armoured leather corset around her waist, and wore a two-handed sword slung across her back, clattering as she ran.

"Here I am! I'm sorry I took so long getting here."

Quirian's expression was frigid. "I do not mind the delay, Octavia, so much as I mind you leaving Miranda unattended save for old Abigail."

"I didn't think she'd be in danger inside the house," Octavia protested.

"I do not retain you for your ability to think, foolish girl," Quirian replied, each word sharp as a dagger. "In future you will follow your instructions precisely, or I shall put you back where I found you. Would you like that?"

Octavia's face paled. "Please, Lord Father, forgive me."

"Then you shall not repeat this mistake?"

"No," Octavia said, shaking her head rapidly. "No, never. Please, don't send me away."

Quirian smiled thinly. "Indeed, I shall not. As I am your father, I shall care for you until the end of days." He held out his right hand languidly, a signet ring upon his finger with the design of a lion rampant upon it. Under his eyes Octavia knelt and kissed the ring with what seemed to Miranda to be pathetic gratitude.

How I despise cringing servility.

"Come, Filia," Quirian said, his tone warming again. "Let us see what my servants have made for you to bring to life."

They approached the corner of the courtyard, where a group of servants worked with chisels and hammers upon a large stone statue, laid upon its back, in the vague form of a muscular man. Or possibly a muscular orc, for Miranda had never seen a man so big. When put on its feet, this statue would stand at least ten feet tall, with arms and legs like the trunks of ancient oak trees and a head the size of Miranda's torso. The stonemasons had fashioned it in vaguely human likeness, with representations of muscle along the chest and stomach, but those muscles would hardly do justice to its strength if ever the stone came to life.

"Aelia," Quirian called out as they drew near. "Is it ready?"

A girl with flaxen hair and blue eyes turned from supervising the work to bow to Lord Quirian. "I think so, Lord Father. It's mostly solid like you asked, but the old scrolls you gave me on golems makes me think it needs to breathe or it will die the moment the champion stops sustaining it, so I hollowed out a part of its chest for a lung and opened up a mouth and windpipe."

"That will make it a little more vulnerable, but not distressingly so," Quirian mused. "Filia Miranda, this is Aelia, an earth mage of the Lost. She will take the lead in crafting golems for you to bring to life until your own command of earth magic is sufficient to allow you to create them yourself."

Aelia smiled. "I'll also be teaching you earth magic in your spare time. The weak points are definitely the joints, Lord Father. We've had to separate the arms and legs at the shoulder, hips, knees and elbow or else I don't think it could move properly. It's like a puppet, with the joints interlocking and attached with iron pins. I don't see how we could avoid it."

"Armouring the joints?" Miranda suggested. "And the chest, perhaps? After all, every part of a man is his weak point when it comes to being stabbed with swords, but we have created means to work around that."

Quirian looked thoughtful. "Quite right, Filia. Quite right. I shall consider it at the very least. Now, Aelia, if you would withdraw your section."

"Yes, Lord Father," Aelia waved the other workers away from the unmoving golem.

Miranda asked, "Do you want me to get started right away?"

"Not quite yet, Filia," Quirian replied.

Lysimachus, Ascanius and Julian ambled out of the house to join the growing party.

"Morning, love," Ascanius said cheerfully.

"My name is Miranda," Miranda remarked.

"I know."

"These three, as you know, are experienced soldiers. I value their input greatly in matters martial," Quirian explained.

"I see," Miranda murmured. "Then I'd best try not to disappoint you, hadn't I?"

"That would be for the best," Ascanius said.

Miranda gave him an old fashioned look, such as her mother was wont to use to reduce the man who dared remark at her raising three children alone into a mass of quivering shame. Somehow it didn't seem to work so well on Ascanius Posci Castra.