Saint's Blood: The Greatcoats Book 3 (59 page)

‘Brasti?’ I said. The others were standing around me as well. ‘I’m . . . ?’

He shook his head. ‘Not completely fucking crazy? I’m sorry. You most definitely are.’

‘Valiana . . .’ I said.

Brasti stepped back and I saw she had fallen to her knees on the ground next to me. Her fingers were clenching and unclenching as if she were trying to tear up the floor with her nails. Her eyes were blinking too fast, her mouth twitching as unrelenting insanity twisted and turned inside her. I watched in horror as she reached out and clutched the remains of the iron mask, bringing it up in painful, slow increments towards her face. Her lips began to tremble and she said, ‘I was . . . born of nothing and to nothing I will return.’

I failed
, I realised with a great wash of sadness.
The madness still has her.

For the briefest moment Valiana held the mask over her face, and I knew she was lost to us – but then her hands kept rising, until she was holding the foul thing high over her head. With a sudden violent motion and more strength than I would have thought possible, she brought it crashing down against the flagstone floor with such force that I had to shield my eyes from the shards of iron flying in all directions. When I opened my eyes, the iron mask had been shattered into pieces.

Valiana’s jaw was clenched tight, as if her own body was trying to keep her silent. ‘But until the day I die, I will stand for the laws of this country. I will stand for the King’s Laws.’ She let out a ragged sound, part angry growl, part despairing sob. ‘I will ride these roads and see those Laws enforced.’ Her head turned, too hard, too fast, and I thought her neck would snap, but she was looking at Aline. ‘I will protect you for as long as there is strength in my arm to fight and blood in my veins to bleed.’ Valiana’s whole body was shaking now, her hands thudding against the floor as she tried to push herself to her feet.

Enough
, I thought,
it has to be enough now.

But she wasn’t done. With all the madness of the Adoracia still burning behind her eyes, pulling at her, tearing at her soul, my daughter rose to her feet. ‘I. Am. Valiana val Mond. I am the Realm’s Protector of Tristia.
I am the Heart’s Answer
.’

There was no cure for Adoracia poisoning, I knew that – but here was a will too strong to succumb to it. And she would be fighting against this madness for the rest of her life. Valiana reached down to help me up. ‘I
am
a Greatcoat,’ she said.

‘Okay, what now?’ Darriana asked, leaning over me as I slumped on the bench against the back wall. Ethalia sat next to me, looking as worn and exhausted as I felt.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked, reaching out a hand to take hers. Her skin was cold.

‘I abide,’ she said, smiling weakly. ‘That was . . . a dark journey.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, trying to suppress the shivering in my hands. ‘I probably should have warned you that the inside of my mind is not a nice place to visit.’

‘Not so bad as all that,’ she said, then she looked up: Darriana was still waiting for an answer.

‘What do you want from me?’ I sighed. ‘I can barely remember my own name right now.’

‘You’re Falcio val Mond, you’re the First fucking Cantor of the Greatcoats and the world is still fucked. Now kindly get over yourself and tell us how we win this thing, because right now it’s looking pretty hopeless.’

I glanced over at Valiana, standing tall, even as she fought back the madness in her veins. She tried to nod reassuringly, even though I should have been the one reassuring her.
Then do it, idiot.
Tell
her.
I’m usually embarrassingly terrible at these things, but I forced myself to my feet and stood before her. I placed my palms on her cheeks.
Whichever Gods remain, please let me say this without bursting into tears in front of the other Greatcoats.
‘All the hope I will ever need is in the endless courage of my daughter’s heart,’ I said.

Valiana put her hands over mine. ‘It’s the oath,’ she said, smiling up at me, though her voice was still tight, almost stilted. ‘If I . . . if I hold onto it I can . . . I think the oaths are more than just words.’

‘
All
words are more than just words,’ Rhyleis said, then added mockingly, ‘When will you Trattari finally learn that?’

‘Don’t goad them,’ Nehra said.

But there was a kind of truth in Rhyleis’ derision that I was finally coming to understand. Back at the Palace of Baern, when Birgid had come with her Awe blazing, I had made some comment about Greatcoats not kneeling, but I realised now that the
deeper
truth I’d been hanging on to at that moment was my oath. I turned to the others, trying to decide who to start with. I chose Antrim. ‘Why did you become a Greatcoat?’ I asked.

‘What? Why are you—?’

‘Just tell me.’

He looked around at the others briefly, looking a little embarrassed. ‘I . . . well, I come from the middle of Orison. The Viscount Drance ruled there. He . . . he had these rules about taxes: anyone who failed to pay the
instant
the collector came around was forced to burn his own lands, all their goods and livestock – no one was allowed to intervene and no one was allowed to take them in on pain of suffering the same fate; no one could even feed them. So you either watched your neighbour struggling to live off whatever roots and berries they could find, knowing they would starve once winter came – or you joined them.’

‘You couldn’t pay your taxes?’ Talia asked. ‘I thought your family was wealthy.’

‘We were,’ he admitted. ‘But I tried to sneak food to a family who’d been forced to destroy their home. I was found out, and I paid the price.’

‘How did you survive?’ she asked.

He gave a soft snort. ‘I killed a Knight, stole a horse and rode like seven devils were at my heels. By the time I got to Aramor I was nearly dead and the men chasing me finally caught me. The King’s guards intervened and brought me to him. The King asked me what I’d do if he gave me clemency. I guess I must have been a little delirious because I said, “I’ll make damned sure no lousy Viscount makes a man burn down his own home ever again.”’

‘So that was your oath?’ Kest asked.

Antrim gave a little shrug. ‘I like to think it came out a little more eloquently, but yes, that was basically it.’ He turned to me. ‘Why did you make me tell that story?’

‘How long ago did you take the oath?’ I asked.

He didn’t hesitate, not even a second. ‘Six years, three months and seven days.’

‘Swear it again,’ I said.

‘Falcio, the King is—’

I pointed to Aline. ‘Swear it to her.’

I expected him to argue, but he didn’t. He picked up his shortsword and took three steps to stand before Aline. He said, ‘I have known wealth and I have known deprivation. I have seen the power of charity and the vicious theft of the only scrap of bread from a child’s mouth. The Law says no man or woman can be made to starve at the whim of another. I
will
ride the roads of this country until that Law holds true.’ He gripped his sword tighter. ‘I am Antrim Thomas of the Condate of Drance, and I am—’

Aline stopped him before he could finish. She reached up and placed her hands on the side of his face and pulled him close. I thought she was going to kiss him on the cheek, but instead she whispered something into his ear. She let him go and he looked down at her. ‘I think I can live with that,’ he said, grinning from ear to ear.

I didn’t have to ask Talia; she had already picked up her spear and now she took Antrim’s place, standing before Aline and speaking clear and true. ‘Where I was born, in the Duchy of Pulnam, a girl of ten could be forcibly wed to a man of fifty. Her sisters and brothers could be killed for trying to protect her from her abusive husband. The King said that no child could be forced into marriage, that everyone had the right to love of their own free choice. I will ride these roads and I
will
see that Law and all the others enforced. My name is Talia Venire and by whatever Gods and Saints are left, I am—’

Again, Aline stopped her. She reached out to the taller woman and pulled her close into a hug that made Talia look remarkably uncomfortable. Aline whispered in her ear before letting her go. ‘It’ll do,’ Talia replied. I’m not sure I had ever seen her smile quite like that before.

‘Well you all know what I think of the Laws,’ Brasti said, evidently deciding it was his turn. He started strutting around the room like an actor walking the stage, spinning an arrow between his fingers, then suddenly he stopped, making the arrow freeze in his hand as he turned to the rest of us. ‘It’s all shite, if you ask me.’ The arrow started spinning again and Brasti continued his swaggering gait. ‘But there are a lot of arseholes in this country: big men. Rough men.’ He turned and tossed the arrow to Kest. ‘Swordsmen, mostly.’ He paused for a laugh that never came and shrugged before going on, ‘And I suppose if a few Laws here and there can keep those men from making life even worse than it already is, and if being a Greatcoat means people can rest a little easier, live a little better, well then I’ll ride these roads. I’ll be a Greatcoat. I’ll be the very paragon . . .’ He paused and looked to Kest.

‘Surprisingly, that’s the right word,’ Kest admitted.

Brasti grinned. ‘I’ll be the very paragon of Greatcoats.’ He turned then, having perfectly timed his words and his steps to arrive in front of Aline. ‘My name, little girl, is Brasti Goodbow, and I—’

She reached up for him as she had with the others, but just at the last instant he pinched her cheeks gently between thumbs and forefingers and kissed the top of her head. Before she could speak, he whispered something into her ear.

‘You are rather impertinent, Brasti Goodbow,’ she said, once he let her go, ‘and I still can’t believe my father ever chose you for the Greatcoats. But I consent.’

He spun back on his heel. ‘Of course you do, sweetling. What choice do you have? I’m invaluable.’

Mateo went next, then Allister, and then even Darriana managed to summon up just enough humility to retake her oath. When Aline whispered in her ear at the end, Darriana grinned. ‘Oh, I think that will do nicely.’

When Kest began to take his own oath he almost passed out from the pain of trying to keep hold of the hilt of his sword, until Aline whispered, ‘Enough,’ and gently lifted his hand away. ‘You have to be more than a sword from now on.’ She leaned forward and whispered in his ear as she had the others; his expression was more dubious, but he too nodded acquiescence.

When I had finished my turn, she smiled at me but said nothing. ‘What?’ I asked. ‘No secret message for me?’

‘You are his, Falcio. You have and always will be my father’s heart.’ She took my hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m glad for that.’

Before I could reply she let go and walked over to the others and stood in front of Quentis Maren, who sat with his bandaged shoulder, watching the proceedings in fascination. The Inquisitor rose to his feet. ‘I’m sorry, my Lady,’ he said, startled at her presence. ‘I meant no offence . . . I’d heard of the Trattari rituals, but never witnessed one. I should have left the room.’

‘And how do you find our “rituals”, Inquisitor?’

‘Odd,’ he replied, candidly, ‘and – and forgive me for saying – a little sloppy compared to those of the Cogneri.’

‘That’s it,’ Brasti said. ‘Now I’m definitely killing him.’

Aline smiled. ‘We are a rather sloppy company, aren’t we? Here I am, heir to a throne that appears to come with precious little authority over anyone.’

‘Precious little throne, either, now that the castle’s in ruins,’ Brasti added.

I should have hit him when I had the chance.

Aline ignored him. ‘My lineage does come with one privilege, though. It is my right to choose those who will administer the Laws of Tristia.’ She waited just a second to see if he’d understood, and when it was clear he hadn’t, she added, ‘Quentis Maren, I name you to the Greatcoats.’

The Inquisitor looked shocked, and slightly aghast. ‘My Lady, forgive me, I am a Cogneri, I—’

‘How’s that been working out for you?’ Mateo asked.

Quentis shook his head. ‘Not well, I suppose.’ He looked at Aline. ‘But I’m a man of the Gods – even if those Gods no longer live. I cannot swear to—’

‘Give the oath you would give,’ Aline said.

He started to kneel down in front of her but she took his arm and made him stand. ‘The Greatcoats don’t kneel.’

He swallowed, visibly the most uncomfortable recruit I had ever seen, and then said, ‘I believe we should serve the Gods,’ he said.

‘You know they’re all dead, right?’ Brasti asked.

‘I know, but I still believe there is something greater than our own self-interest, than what lies before us in field and forest, village and city.’ He paused for a moment, then went on more firmly, ‘But I also believe that Faith cannot be born out of fear or enslavement. Only if we are free can we find that Faith. I will not stand by as anyone, man or God, seeks to use terror to command obedience.’

Aline spoke to him quietly before kissing him on the cheek. He brought his fingers to the spot where she’d kissed him, looking oddly touched by her simple gesture. The Tailor rose silently, holding Harden’s coat – and I finally understood that she’d been adjusting it to fit the Inquisitor’s body.

‘Is that it?’ Quentis asked, pulling on the coat. It was a perfect fit. ‘I’m a Trattari now?’

Talia walked up to the man in her brother’s coat, her fierce eyes appraising him. After a moment she punched him in the shoulder – the
uninjured
shoulder – hard enough that the former Inquisitor flinched. ‘We really prefer the term “Greatcoat”,’ she said.

Mateo raised a glass in the air. ‘Welcome to the Greatcoats, Quentis. The pay is lousy and the chances of survival are even worse.’

‘Remember something else,’ I said grimly, dampening the cheers that’d followed Mateo’s toast. ‘Your oath isn’t worth shit if you’re on your knees.’

He didn’t look that convinced – none of them did. They had seen the power of the new God and they all knew no amount of effort would keep us from falling before him.