Spirit of the Sword: Pride and Fury (The First Sword Chronicles Book 1) (49 page)

"Would you object so much to it, Your Highness?" Michael said.

"As it happens I would," Jason said sourly. "Tullia, I thought I had made my feelings clear on this."

"I have said nothing, Your Highness," Tullia said.

"I know," Jason said. "That is what concerns me."

"Prince Jason, may I see if I understand your situation right?" Wyrrin asked as they made camp that night.

Jason rolled his eyes at someone else calling him a prince, but nodded nonetheless. "If you wish."

"Your father lied when he said that he was not your father, and your mother gave birth in a private place so none could know who she was."

Jason sighed. "Yes, that is broadly it, albeit in a slightly reductive sense."

"And for that reason, because your father said that he was not your father, you are called this name: Nemon Filius."

Jason nodded, wondering where Wyrrin was going with this.

Wyrrin blinked once or twice. "I do not understand. That is your name, the way that Michael's name is Callistus or Gideon's name is Commenae. Yet it is a name you have because you do not have a name from your father. But then, if you were to have sons, would they be Nemon Filius as well?"

Jason frowned. "Almost certainly not. If I married I would take my wife or husband's name, and if I had a child out of wedlock then they would take their mother's name, if she were known. It would only become an issue if I adopted a child, at which point I could, if I ever get my inheritance back, petition a praetor to take a surname of my own choosing."

Wyrrin said, "Marriages and adoptions and names, it is all quite complicated. In Arko all children belong to Arko. I envy you, Prince Jason."

"You envy me not knowing my mother?" Jason asked.

"I envy that your father denied you, and thus freed you to find your own path," Wyrrin said. "In my city, all male fire drakes are divided into seven castes: ruler, priest, keeper, artisan, warrior, farmer, slave. From the moment your egg hatches you are a part of the same caste from which your father came. There is no escaping it. My father was a slave, and so I was born into chains and destined for the fetters from the moment I left the nest."

"What about your women?" Amy asked. "Don't they have castes? I don't know that much about fire drakes, the lands of Niccolo's line lie too far east to have anything to do with them."

"Our females have but one role," Wyrrin said. "To breed, to lay eggs, to spawn the next generation of the Arunim."

"And you think you've got problems," Amy muttered.

"What has this to do with His Highness?" Tullia asked. "We have no castes."

"No, but as I understand it is still the case that if a man is what we could call of the ruling caste, your Emperors and your lords, his sons are still expected to follow in his steps, is that not so?"

"Is it not the best way to acquire experience of governance, to watch one's father at his work?" Gideon asked.

"Only if you are more concerned with governance than with free will," Wyrrin replied. "The best way for me to do slave work was to be raised to be a slave, but that was not my wish. Why could I not be free to live as I desired?"

Jason frowned. "Are you saying that you agree with me?"

Wyrrin blinked. "Yes."

Jason opened his mouth, and then closed it. "You agree with me?"

"I agree with you," Wyrrin repeated.

"You, Wyrrin, agree with me about how awful our system is?"

Wyrrin blinked. "Perhaps I have not yet mastered your language." He leaned in. "I agree with you."

"I'm not sure that I quite believe it," Jason said. "Of all of you here, why is it that the only person who is not seemingly in love with hereditary privilege and who believes in the inherent rights and dignity of man, is the only one who is not in the least bit human?"

"Mayhap because we know our fellow men better than he does," Michael murmured. "Filius Wyrrin, your life was hard no doubt, but we have no castes in this land."

"No, we have ranks of citizens, determined by wealth and decreasing in rights and powers to practically nothing," Jason said sharply.

"That is not the same, Highness, as being born into a station and bound to it for life," Michael said. "My mother was of the seventh rank, she scraped a living taking in laundry and suchlike. Now Miranda is of the fourth rank, and I hope she may climb higher still."

"How high would she have climbed without Aurelian magic?" Jason asked.

"I know not, Your Highness, but the opportunity would have been there still," Michael said.

"What I want to know is how a slave caste fire drake learned how to fight so well," Amy asked. "You didn't just pick up a pair of swords and start swinging them around. You've trained, and not in the arena either."

Wyrrin made an expression that might, upon his reptilian face, have been a smile. "For a few years I was able to lie my way into one of the skirmishing companies. It worked until I became too well known, then I was recognised as a slave."

"And that's when you left?" Amy said.

"That's when I had to flee my home or be put to death," Wyrrin said.

"I can see why you are less than enamoured of caste systems," Jason said softly.

Michael took the middle watch himself that night, walking over the grassy field to where Tullia sat, her back to an old dead tree, watching for enemies. He nearly fell into a molehill on the way, but managed to make it through the darkness unscathed.

"I know not how you and Gideon manage to move so gracefully in the dark, not to mention quietly," Michael hissed. "If there are any foemen abroad they will have heard me for sure." 

Tullia smiled. "A mage with lead feet will not remain in the Corps for long. I don't think it matters so much for gladiators, or leaders." 

"I lead only until Gideon tires of watching me," Michael said. "Though your assistance has so far been invaluable." 

"It was the least I could do." 

"No, it was far more," Michael said. "And I still do not know why you troubled yourself." 

Tullia's smile lessened a little. "Sit down. Please."

Michael did so, squatting on his ankles beside her tree. She did not look at him, her blue eyes gazing outwards into the night. Her voice was a caress more gentle than the night breeze. 

"You and I have a great deal in common. Most obviously a younger sister. Mine much younger than yours." 

"How old?" 

"Lucilia is eleven, seven years younger than I myself," Tullia said. 

"The age where she still admires you, then?" Michael said. "She has not yet begun to make study of your flaws?"

Tullia chuckled quietly. "Fortunately not. But I would be happy if I knew that Lucilia would live to be old enough to rebel against me. Right now, I do not have that certainty.

"I come from Eternal Pantheia, from a district called the Subura. It is...not a clean or healthy place. My mother died not long after Lucilia was born, and my sister was always very sick. She is so frail that she cannot walk and she coughs so badly sometimes I am afraid she will split apart.

"It isn't easy, growing up a girl in the slums. A boy can join the army to escape the desparate poverty, but for girls...there are only so many ways that you can get out of poverty. And those I was not willing to consider." Tullia's whole body shuddered. "There's a reason I couldn't tell you this in front of His Highness. If he saw me like this..."

Michael placed his hand on top of Tullia's. "He would pity you."

"It is not my place to be an object for his pity or concern," Tullia said. "I am his protector, I must be unwavering in his eyes."

"No one will hear of this from me," Michael said. "Though, if the pity of a slave does not repulse you, you have mine. Raising a family was hard enough in Lover's Rock, I cannot imagine how much harder it was for you in Eternal Pantheia."

"I was not completely alone. There were three girls who would help me when they could, but even then...I had to steal to feed us," Tullia said. "One day I got caught, but not before I had used lightning magic to lash out at the guards. While I was being held, a kindly old man came to see me and offered a position in the Corps of Mages. When I told him about Lucilia, he smiled and told me that the Empire rewarded faithful service. When I pledged myself to him, he had my sister found and placed in an infirmary run by the devotees of Aulo. They cannot make her well, but they can keep her alive, for now."

Tullia looked to face Michael, her eyes wide. "They say that your sister, your Miranda, is a miracle worker whose magic is of a kind not seen in centuries. His Highness says that her power can cure any illness, is that true?"

"Illness of the body," Michael said. "She cannot cure madness, or any sickness of the mind. Not that I know of anyway."

"And... if I stand with you when you rescue her..." Tullia's voice was a plea now. "Do you think she will consent to heal Lucilia?"

"You do not need to fear that she will only do so as payment for service." Michael hoped not, anyway. He hoped he still knew Miranda that well. "As long as I have known her, she has only charged what others can afford to pay. I think she would heal your sister for nothing at all."

"Gods be praised," Tullia closed her eyes for a moment as tears welled in them. "To see her well. That would be-" She turned, leaping up, lightning sparking in her palm. "Someone is out there."

Michael rose, hands closing upon the hilts of his swords. He saw it, a winged silhouette creeping - or trying to creep in a clumsy fashion - through the darkness.

"Stay here and keep your eye on them," Michael said. He himself began to advance upon the intruder, closing almost as clumsily as they were approaching the camp. When he guessed that fifteen paces separated them, he drew forth Duty with a ring and shouted, "That's close enough! Who goes there, friend or foeman?"

The person before him squeaked in alarm, and behind him Michael heard Amy curse loudly amongst the sounds of stirring and movement.

"Are you Michael Callistus?" the intruder asked in a high pitched girl's voice.

"A lot of people seem to have my name despite I've never met them," Michael said. "Who are you?"

"My name's Octavia, I'm here to talk to you," Octavia said. Michael could not make out much more than her silhouette, but she seemed tall and ungainly, not to mention he was absolutely certain she had wings on her back. "It's about Miranda."

"I advise you not to listen to this young lady, Michael," Gideon said. "She is one of Lord Quirian's Lost, aren't you my dear? I'm afraid you made a grave mistake coming here alone."

"She said she wanted to talk about Miranda," Michael said.

"A lie no doubt."

"I'm not lying," Octavia shouted. "You're the liar, not me! I'm here in peace."

"Then why did you bring that sword," Amy said as she trampled through the grass. "What do you need it for?"

"In case you tried to kill me before I had a chance to say anything," Octavia said.

"Oh... that actually makes sense," Amy said. "Doesn't mean we should trust her though."

"If she comes in peace, then we will not break peace first," Michael said. "She is all alone, and would be foolish to attempt treachery. Are you come from Quirian?"

"I told you, I'm here for Miranda," Octavia said. "Lord Quirian didn't want me to come here but I went anyway, for Miranda because she wants to keep you alive. Lord Father wants you dead, I think."

"The enmity of a deadly foe is flattery to a warlike spirit," Michael said. "Why would you risk his wrath for the sake of a prisoner?"

"That's what I needed to talk to you about," Octavia shouted. "Miranda isn't a prisoner, she's our guest. That's all she's ever been and all she ever will be. You need to stop this, chasing after her, opposing Lord Quirian; you're being deceived. Gideon is using you."

Gideon tensed, and Michael feared that he would attack. Michael laughed to calm the situation. "Anyone can say a thing, but that does not make it true. You tell me Miranda is no prisoner, that Gideon is a liar, but why should I believe you over my good lord?"

"Because I'm telling the truth," Octavia said. "Miranda is happy, here, with us. She's where she wants to be. She's helping us to change the world for the better."

"You mean to put her to death and steal her magic," Gideon said.

"No, we don't!" Octavia sounded genuinely horrified. "You see? These are the kind of lies that I was telling you about. I'm Miranda's friend and I'm telling you that she wants you to give up this madness before you get hurt. She's worried about you."

"Then why couldn't she tell him that herself?" Amy asked. "Is she too proud to see her own brother?"

"She wanted to," Octavia said. "She wanted to explain everything herself. I'm not doing a good job explaining this, but you have to believe me. Miranda just wants you to be safe. She doesn't want any more fighting. She doesn't want you to get hurt. Please, I don't know you but I know that Miranda would be heartbroken if you died. I don't want her to be sad. I just, I want to make her happy, and that means saving your life."