Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

"Will you let me take your arm, Filia?" Quirian asked solicitously.

Miranda looked at him. "Are you serious?"

A smile played across his lips. "I can only ask, Filia."

He led Miranda through the gryphon-guarded doors and into a cavernous room filled with elegantly dressed men and women adorned with every kind of precious metal and gem. The floor beneath Miranda's feet was covered with a vast mosaic depicting huntsmen battling against a bull in the fields of Tyronia. The walls were set with diamonds which sparkled in the light of the torches born by the slaves who stood around the walls. The settees looked soft and plump as fatted sheep, and already several people lay upon them, eating dormice and snails from silver platters and drinking wine from goblets of gold.

Miranda stood in the doorway, feeling suddenly uncertain of herself.

"What happens now, my lord?" she asked quietly. "What do I do?"

"Talk, Filia," Quirian said. "Or don't, as you wish. Best not to stand in the doorway though, you will block the way for everyone else."

Already some people were beginning to stare at her, and though Miranda could not identify the precise look in their eyes she knew that it was not friendliness.

"Coming here was a mistake," she sighed.

"Now, now, Miranda, the party has barely begun," Quirian did not deviate from his casual, confident tone. "Ah, Your Highness."

Miranda expected that it would be the Prince Antiochus, her patron, come to greet her, but instead it was a girl perhaps a year younger than herself, wearing a trailing gown of pure black - save for a white sash tied around her waist in a pretty bow - which looked to be halfway to falling off her shoulders. Her eyes were purple, as was her hair - save for the streaks of pink and rose which shot through it, particularly amongst her bangs - which was tied up in a bun similar to Miranda's. But where Miranda's hair was entirely bound up, the girl Quirian had addressed as 'Your Highness' had locks long enough for a purple ponytail to fall down the back of her neck and drape across one shoulder. She stood of a height with Miranda now, but from the way she walked Miranda guessed she was just a little shorter and wearing the new high-heeled slippers which were starting to come into fashion in the provinces but had, Miranda guessed, been a feature of the city for some time beforehand. Her face still showed traces of baby fat, but was no less pretty for all that. In fact, looking at the brightness of her eyes, the keenness of her gaze, Miranda found her rather striking.

"Quirian," the girl said coolly.

"Your Highness," Quirian replied. "I was not aware that you had been invited to tonight's event."

"Oh, I wasn't," she said casually. "But I don't need an invitation, I'm a princess. I go wither I will, and none dare stay me." She looked at Miranda and smiled. "Now, are you going to introduce your friend or will you be a boor and make her give her own name?"

Quirian smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "Your Highness, allow me to present your brother's honoured guest, Filia Miranda Callistus, from Corona Province. Filia Miranda, allow me to name Her Highness, Princess Romana, sister to His Imperial Majesty Demodocus the Second."

Miranda bowed. "Your Highness."

"A bow?" Princess Romana asked, her voice as sweet as honey. "Unexpected."

"I have difficulty curtsying, Your Highness, please forgive me," Miranda said, lifting the folds of her skirt just enough for the princess to catch a glimpse of her foot.

"Ah, I see, I am so sorry," Princess Romana said. "Standing too long must be very painful for you, would you like to sit down?"

"Thank you, Your Highness," Miranda said, allowing the princess to steer her towards one of the reclining couches.

"Indeed, an excellent idea," Quirian said.

Princess Romana affixed him with a stern gaze from her purple eyes. "Do you play chaperone today, Pater Quirian? What a man of many parts you are."

Lord Quirian sighed. "
Lord
Quirian, if it please, Your Highness."

"Is that so," the princess said. "Who is your father, pray? Or, if your elder brother has inherited the title, then who is he? Where in Saba do you hold your lands? When were your family first admitted to the College of Patricians, by which Prince Imperial, and for what services rendered to the state?"

"Prince Antiochus is satisfied with my lineage," Quirian replied.

"My dear brother would call his horse a patrician if it would win him the purple throne," Romana said. "That he calls you a lord does not make you one."

Quirian stiffened, his jaw tightening. For a moment Miranda thought he would grow angry, but instead he offered the princess a half-mocking bow and said, "Perhaps I should leave you alone with Filia Miranda, while I go in search of Prince Antiochus?"

"Yes, that would be for the best, off you scamper," Princess Romana said, waiting until he had disappeared into the crowd of guests before sitting down on a couch opposite Miranda.

"So," the princess said brightly. "You are the miracle girl, blessed by the gods with unmatched magical power. The girl who is going to make an army for my brother."

Miranda shifted uncomfortably. "I suppose I am, Your Highness."

Romana smiled. "I've no doubt that Antiochus and his creatures are paying you very well for the work you are to do for them, but I do hope you will think very carefully about what you are about, and what the consequences may be. Trust what you see, not what my brother's cronies tell you."

Miranda frowned. "Do you stand with one of the dukes and their factions, rather than for your brother?"

"I stand for the Divine Empire and the Empress Aegea, which makes me practically a faction of one in this day and age," Princess Romana replied. "Actually, no, that is rather unfair to my supporters, even if their faith is not as iron had as is mine own. But leave that for now, I merely ask you to consider that the best interests of Antiochus may not be the best interests of the Empire, and ask yourself whose interests you would rather advance: that of one man, or that of the country."

"I don't understand, ma'am, how can the best interests of the Empire not be served by my eliminating the need to send young men to die in foreign fields," Miranda said.

"It is a great misfortune that we must purchase the glory of the Empire in a cost of blood," Princess Romana said. "And it is true that men are flawed beings and thus make flawed soldiers. But those soldiers, flawed as they are, have often acted as the guardians of all that is best about the Divine Empire, whether that is by mutinying against the needless brutality of the Oretine War, by keeping the faith of Aegea alive, or by preserving the creed on which the Empire was founded though all others have forgotten. The Empire's history offers many examples of occasions when great evil might have been perpetrated had not the better nature of our army come to the fore to act as the conscience of the nation. Please consider, Miranda, what great evil might be done by a man who had at his command an army that would never tell him 'no'."

"Do I hear you spinning conspiracies behind my back, sweet sister?"

Miranda looked up. Quirian had returned, accompanied by an elegantly dressed man with slick, dark hair and large blue eyes. She assumed that this was Prince Antiochus, judging by his purple toga and cloth-of-gold tunic and his purple boots. He had a barely visible moustache growing on his upper lip, which was the only disfigurement on what would have been a handsome countenance otherwise, if Miranda had been interested in such things. He looked down upon his sister with a smile that was at once amused and, so Miranda thought, guardedly hostile.

Romana smiled. "Of course not, brother. Are we not a family united in our love and devotion, the four of us?"

"Four?"

"You, me, His Majesty and Jason," Romana said pointedly.

Miranda did not understand what she had just said, but it must have meant something between the prince and princess because a look of anger flashed in Prince Antiochus' eyes.

"I do not wish to hear that name mentioned in my presence again," he said, his words emerging between gritted teeth. "You dishonour our mother every time you bring him up."

"You dishonoured yourself by the way you treated him," Romana said softly.

"Say no more of this," Antiochus replied. "Or, sweet sister, I may have to hurt you."

Romana took a deep breath. "Miranda, allow me to present my imperial brother the Prince Antiochus, your patron. Brother, this is your honoured guest and centrepiece of your schemes for power."

Prince Antiochus smiled jovially, as if he had not just threatened his sister with physical violence. "Delighted, Filia," he took Miranda's hand and brushed his lips against it. "Absolutely delighted. You are as beautiful as you are reputed to be powerful."

Miranda bowed. "Your Highness is too kind."

"Are you enjoying the party?" Antiochus asked. "Are you hungry? Would you like to try a snail?"

"No, thank you, your highness, I do not care for snails," Miranda said. "For myself I prefer oysters, though I could rarely get them in Corona."

Romana raised one eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Quirian looked a trifle surprised. Prince Antiochus looked more amused than anything.

"Is that so," Antiochus said. "I myself prefer oysters, but then for men that is more than half expected. For a woman...yes, I imagine that the provinces must have been quite lonely at times for a lover of oysters."

"A little, yes, your highness," Miranda said.

Antiochus chuckled. "You will be glad to know, Filia, that here in the capital all tastes are catered for, whether they be for oysters, for snails or for...rarer things besides. Quirian tells me that you have already begun work on my army?"

"I have, your highness," Miranda said.

"Excellent," Antiochus said. "Excellent." He laughed. "Talk with my sister, if you wish, but do not take what she says too much to heart. You will learn soon enough that Romana has quite the reputation as an eccentric. Why do you think that, in all this glittering assembly, she is the only one wearing black?"

"I confess, highness," Miranda said. "I had rather thought that she was mourning your late father."

Antiochus barked with laughter. "That would be less comical than the truth; tell her, sister, what your garments symbolise."

Romana smiled. "I am in mourning, Filia, but no longer for my father. I am mourning, indeed, the passing of traditional values and the spiritual decline of this once upright nation."

Antiochus did not bother trying to contain his mirth at this. "I ask you, Filia, have you ever heard anything so ridiculous in all your life."

Miranda held her peace, not wanting to either offend the princess or mention that she had, in fact, heard something similar more than once from her brother.

Antiochus smiled. "I am afraid that I must take my leave of you now, Filia, as this party is for my benefit I must spend the evening mingling with my supporters, but I do hope that you will have an enjoyable evening. Filia Miranda. Sister."

"Your Highness," Miranda said, bowing again.

"Brother," Romana said quietly.

Antiochus turned away and disappeared into the crowd of guests, Quirian trailing behind him, whispering in his ear.

"So," Romana asked. "What did you think of your patron?"

"He was very kind, your highness," Miranda said.

"Oh, yes, Antiochus always treats his pets very while they please him. Would you like me to introduce you around the room?" Romana asked. "I will not say that the best people in the Empire are here, but some of the wealthiest are and that is not a thing to be dismissed lightly these days. You should meet them, while you have the chance. You have a rare opportunity here, Filia, it is not often than a commoner is given the chance to be a player in our games of high politics and statecraft. You should make yourself known."

"I would like that, thank you," Miranda murmured. "Princess, why are you being so kind to me? I am your brother's woman, and you seem to be...you are not his ally."

Romana smiled. "I would rather not be your enemy, Miranda Callistus. And so I try to make you my friend instead. Come. I shall play chaperone, in place of Pater Quirian."

"Do you begrudge him the title so much?" Miranda asked as Romana took her arm.

"Titles of nobility do not exist to make men of his stripe feel important or powerful," Romana said. "They are a public statement of the honour and glory possessed by our old families, an acknowledgement of the great services rendered by those families to the Empire. That is a currency far too precious to be debased."

Romana led Miranda across the room, to where a tall, balding man stood holding court amidst a circle of younger fellows. Coming from Corona, nearly everyone in Eternal Pantheia looked a little pale compared with Miranda's experience, but all of these fine nobles and equestrians looked far paler than the citizens out in the street.

Of course, most of these people have probably never done a day's honest work in their lives. This unhealthy pallor is what staying out of the sun does for you.
In fact, as Miranda took a second look around, she found it easy to tell who were the soldiers and who were not: the soldiers had burned under the sun of a hundred battlefields, while their wives, daughters and more mercantile competitors had not. There were not many soldiers present here, but then if there had been then Prince Antiochus would hardly have needed an army of golems to support his ambitions.