Saint's Blood: The Greatcoats Book 3 (22 page)

‘The woman who ambushed us,’ I said, still running, trying not to stumble on the rough ground. ‘Before she died, she said something. “I hope you are there to witness the glorious moment when one of us buries our Needle deep inside the false Queen’s mouth”.’

I made it back to the road, thanking what Saints were left when I saw that our horses were still there. ‘Come on,’ I cried, ‘we have to get to Luth, now!’

The way the woman had said those words. I hadn’t understood at the time but they weren’t an idle threat. She hadn’t been speaking with the mad conviction of a zealot but the certainty of someone whose plan was already in motion.

‘I don’t understand,’ Ethalia said, mounting her horse as I kicked mine into a gallop. ‘What does this have to do with Harden’s coat?’

‘I told Valiana I wanted Greatcoats standing guard over Aline, but she’s never met the others. That’s why the killers took Harden’s coat. That’s how they’re going to get to Aline.’

Five days of hard riding, spending sleepless nights trying not to fall off our mounts and stopping only to let them rest while we debated our plans and blamed each other and everyone we knew, and none of it, in the end, made any difference.

The Ducal Palace of Luth came into view, looming over the massive arch that led into the capital city: a reminder to its visitors that all trade passes beneath the Duke’s watchful eyes. The sight had probably been more imposing when there was an actual Duke on the throne, but with Roset dead, Luth was now governed by a timid and very temporary Ducal Protector.

‘Left or right?’ Kest asked.

The main road went under the arch and up to the palace, so horses and wagons had to creak up one of the paved paths that went up a gentle incline on either side to reach the narrow courtyard above.

‘Right,’ I said, thinking it didn’t matter which one we chose. It turned out I was right.

‘What in the name of Saint Iphilia-who-cuts-her-own-heart are they doing?’ Brasti asked, peering at the crowds ahead of us, massed outside the courtyard.

‘They’re praying,’ Ethalia said. ‘Like the ones at the martyrium.’

‘Let them pray,’ I said, and kicked Arsehole’s copper-coloured sides to induce him to greater speed. Ahead of me several of the pilgrims suddenly rose and locked arms across the roadway.

‘I don’t think they’re going to let us through,’ Kest pointed out.

I leaned forward on my horse’s neck and said, ‘All right, Arsehole. You’ve been hopping your way through half the South. Show me what you can really do.’

Jumping over obstacles is tricky at the best of times. It’s worse when it’s people, because the horse tends to get scared and wants to turn. So jumping over a dozen religious fanatics while riding uphill?

‘Come on,’ I urged, and Arsehole raced forward towards the crowd. For a second I was afraid he’d hesitate, but then I felt the muscles of his powerful, mountain-bred hindquarters launch us into the air.
This must be what it feels like to fly
, I thought for that brief moment as we sailed over the heads of the shocked pilgrims.

Arsehole landed perfectly on the other side and took off at once, not slowing for even a moment. I glanced back and saw a few of the pilgrims break ranks and start chasing after us, which was a mistake, since it created a gap for the others to ride through.

‘You are a damned good horse,’ I said. Arsehole didn’t reply, no doubt because he really wasn’t an especially bright horse.

The path ended inside the courtyard where guardsmen armed with spears and crossbows awaited. ‘Dismount,’ the gate captain shouted to me.

I reined in the horse but stayed mounted. ‘I’m Falcio val Mond, First Cantor of the Greatcoats.’

‘I know a Trattari when I see one,’ he replied. ‘Now get off your horse before we shoot you down.’

‘Listen to my words very carefully, Captain,’ I said. ‘The life of the heir to the throne of Tristia is in danger, in this palace and on your watch. Now let me pass.’

His eyes narrowed but he considered me carefully and finally signalled his men to stand down. ‘Fine, but I need you to report the situation so that I can—’

‘I’ll report later,’ I said, but before I could I kick Arsehole into motion, a crossbow bolt flew at me, fired by one of the guards standing next to the captain. It missed my thigh but caught the saddle and glanced off the horse’s flank. The beast reared up in shock and the only thing that stopped me from flying to the ground was flinging my arms tightly around his neck.

‘Down, boy,’ I said, as soothingly as one can while being shaken mercilessly by a horse in terror. ‘Come on, Arsehole,’ I added for good measure, ‘the wound’s not so bad as that.’

Arsehole, quite reasonably, didn’t listen, but I nonetheless managed to slide off him before he went charging into the centre of the courtyard.

‘Damn fool!’ the captain shouted, ramming his fist into the side of the man who’d fired at me. ‘The Ducal Protector would have my head for seeing a Greatcoat harmed, not to mention what the
Realm’s
Protector would do!’

‘Falcio—’ Kest began.

‘Go,’ I said, looking at the sky above me. It was close to midday. ‘The three of you get to the throne room – if the Ducal Protector is holding court, Valiana and Aline will be there. I’ll follow. Kest, if you find him—’

‘We’ll find him, Falcio,’ Brasti said.

I watched the three of them ride straight through the courtyard and into the front entrance to the main hall before turning back to the gate captain. ‘There’s an assassin coming for the heir. He’ll be dressed like us.’

‘A Greatcoat? But—?’

I cut him off. ‘It doesn’t matter how.’ But, of course, it did matter. We were supposed to be smarter than this,
better
than this.
Damn you, Harden, for letting yourself get taken
, I thought irrationally. I pointed to the other guards. ‘Take your men and get as many more as you can find. Tell them to bring crossbows to the upper gallery of the throne room.’ When he nodded his assent I added, ‘And Captain? Find some men who can bloody well aim.’

The young guard who’d fired at me was still bowing repeatedly. When I looked at him he started gabbling, ‘I’m sorry, sir, I . . . I thought you were about to attack the captain—’

I grabbed him by the front of his jerkin and shook him. ‘Go and take care of my damned horse.’ I took off at a run towards the main entrance and immediately felt a twisting pain lance through my ankle. I’d not even noticed landing awkwardly after sliding off Arsehole’s back.

‘I can send more men with you,’ the gate captain called after me.

‘Just the crossbowmen in the gallery,’ I shouted back, begging my ankle to hold out just a little while longer.

I don’t know who you are
, I cursed my nameless opponent,
but I know why you’ve come. You don’t get to
touch
her. Do you understand that? You don’t get to touch my King’s daughter.

*

Inside the palace, men and women crowded around marble pillars and shuffled like cattle towards the interior hallways, sometimes pausing to talk or smile or sneer at one another. Luth was one of four Duchies that now stood without a Duke or Duchess on the throne; instead, they had to rely on the tenuous leadership of hastily appointed Ducal Protectors whose primary qualifications appeared to be timidity and a distinct lack of ambition.

I hobbled my way through the crowds, ignoring the variety of salutations, none very friendly, until I caught sight of Kest, Brasti and Ethalia’s horses in the care of two rather confused-looking pages. The horses were not terribly happy, surrounded by such a press of people, and the boys were having some trouble trying to keep control of them. But I went straight past them and into the wide corridor leading to the throne room.

‘Saint Laina-who-whores-for-Gods,’ I mumbled to myself, ‘how the hells do I get through that?’

The throne room of Luth is one of the largest rooms you’ll ever see. It’s over a hundred feet wide and nearly three hundred feet long – a fitting tribute to the self-aggrandisement of the Ducal throne’s past occupants. Brasti used to joke that the servant tasked with bringing food from one end of the room to the other needed a fast horse just to make sure the soup wasn’t stone-cold when it arrived.

Surveying the room, I could see what must have been three hundred people milling about between me and the throne. The six guardsmen standing at the entrance were looking overwhelmed, so I took advantage of the situation to push past them and disappear into the crowd before they could think to stop me.

I couldn’t even see if Aline was there from this distance, nor could I spot Kest or Brasti, or Ethalia. Fortunately, I didn’t really need to: Kest would be making his way towards the throne, moving with that eerie efficiency of his, while Brasti would be seeking a vantage point from which he could use his bow to take out the assassin once we spotted him. Ethalia would be working her way to Valiana, so she could let her know what was happening without the assassin picking up on it.

I glanced up at the galleries. The gate captain’s crossbowmen were nowhere in sight and not for the first time I cursed how ill-prepared we were to protect our future Queen. The Dukes kept those few Knights and soldiers they still trusted in their own Duchies, which left Aramor no choice but to start recruiting and training guards from the local populace. They were looking to be decent folk, all in all, but they were too few, and there was no way they were ready to withstand any real kind of threat, not yet – and who knew what we’d be facing over the years to come?

‘First Cantor.’ The voice came from behind me and I didn’t need to glance back to identify him as I kept moving towards the main dais. Tommer, wearing his own black leather attempt at a greatcoat, was walking close behind me. ‘Are you well, First Cantor? I saw you come into the palace, but—’

‘Not now, Tommer,’ I said.

Tommer might be young, but he wasn’t stupid. He caught the concern in my voice and asked quickly, ‘Is the Lady Aline in danger?’

‘Not for long,’ I said.

‘I can see Brasti,’ Tommer said, and started to raise his arm.

‘Stop,’ I said. ‘Don’t draw attention to him.’

We were halfway to the dais, but the throngs were thicker here and I couldn’t even make out the elaborate oak and silver throne of Luth at the end of the room. I wound my way around a group of merchants and froze as I saw a man in a Greatcoat several feet away from me. I started to draw a knife when I felt Tommer’s hand gripping my arm. ‘That’s Senneth, the King’s Thread,’ he said. ‘Captain Antrim introduced me to him last week. They served under Winnow together.’

Hells.
The beard was new, but I recognised him now. I did my best to loosen the grip on my knife. I was so full of fearful tension that I wasn’t sure I’d have been able to throw the damned thing at this point.

Tommer pointed to one of the guards standing by the columns lining the room. ‘Shouldn’t we alert the guards? They could—’

‘No,’ I said, ‘if we alert the guards the assassin will realise we’ve caught on. Besides, he might have accomplices amongst them.’

‘Is there no one we can trust, First Cantor?’

I pushed past another group of men on my way towards the throne.
I trust Kest and I trust Brasti
, I thought.
I trust Valiana, Aline and Ethalia. The rest of the world can go
—

‘Hey!’ a man said, grabbing my shoulder as I tried to push forward so I could actually see the dais. ‘Wait your turn, Trattari!’

I turned to remonstrate with him, but Tommer stepped between us. ‘I will deal with this, First Cantor.’

I nodded, grateful now for Tommer’s intervention and ignoring the fact that I’d been annoyed with him just moments before. I was finally within sight of the throne. It was empty, but a slim figure in the yellow and silver coat of office of the Duchy of Luth stood in front of the dais. He looked young, perhaps twenty-five, with fashionably cut reddish-blond hair grazing his shoulders. He might have been good-looking, but all I could see was his stooped posture and flinching demeanour as he cowered under a barrage of complaints being fired at him by a pair of merchants. I noticed their clothes looked considerably more expensive than his. The young Ducal Protector – I’d been introduced, but couldn’t remember his name – kept glancing over at Valiana, who stood a few feet away. She was listening intently, but apparently unperturbed by the merchants’ litany of complaints. Perhaps the young man was hoping that as Realm’s Protector, she might step in at some point and save him.

Then I finally caught sight of Aline, sitting in a chair at the side. She might be King Paelis’ heir, but her status was still somewhat nebulous, at least until the Ducal Council got off of its collective arse and properly elevated her to the throne. A quick motion to my right made me turn in time to see Kest standing behind one of the columns, pretending to prop up a clearly unconscious man as if he were helping a drunk cross the street. I worked my way a little closer.

‘Is that him?’ The man had a short moustache and beard, recently trimmed, and smooth skin; along with his expensive clothes that suggested noble birth.

‘I’m not sure,’ Kest replied. ‘He had a knife hidden in the sleeve of his shirt.’

‘How in hells did you spot that?’

He shrugged. Kest never bothers to brag. It’s not that he isn’t as egotistical as the rest of us, it’s just that he thinks bluster and braggadocio is a waste of energy.

‘All right, let’s get him out of the way and . . .’ I’d been turning back towards the throne again when I saw Aline smiling at me, her hands pressed against the arms of her chair as if she was about to get up to run and greet me. Behind her, in the shadows of the long red velvet curtains that dressed the curved wall of the dais, two men in greatcoats were moving very slowly towards her.

I felt rather than heard the scream that came from my throat for my ears were filled with the rush of my own blood, pumping furiously, desperately trying to give my muscles the strength they needed. There was a painful crunch in my ankle as I pushed off of it, using all the force my legs could muster to begin the longest run of my life. I was thirty feet from Aline; she stood far closer to the men who were about to kill her. She couldn’t see them. She was still smiling at me.