The Sword Of Angels (Gollancz S.F.) (33 page)

‘To make an old man feel young again, yes.’ King Raxor slumped, forgetting his wine, ignoring everything but his comely guest. ‘You do make me feel . . . something. Memories, perhaps. Better days. My wife
was much like you, Mirage. Even your voice reminds me of her. Do you sing?’

‘No, my lord,’ replied Mirage. All she wanted was to leave.

‘That is a pity. Helea had a nightingale’s voice.’

‘I have a voice like a rusty hinge, my lord. I could never replace your wife.’

She expected Raxor to agree with her. He did not.

‘Baron Glass was an enemy of mine for many years. Do you know your history, Mirage, of the days before the peace?’

‘When the river Kryss divided the nations. I know of it.’

‘I was War Minister in those days, when Baron Glass was powerful in Liiria. He was a great fighter before losing his arm. I faced him many times, and the Bronze Knight as well.’

Mirage grimaced at Lukien’s name. ‘Yes, my lord. Those must have been difficult days.’

‘You told nothing of the Bronze Knight to Asher.’

‘He did not ask me, King Raxor.’

‘No.’ Raxor steepled his fingers beneath his chin. ‘But the stories go that Lukien went to Jador, and that he came back with you to Liiria. Chane saw Lukien at the library. Many thought you were his woman. Were you?’

The question broke Mirage’s heart. She had wanted so badly to be Lukien’s woman. She shook her head. ‘No.’

‘And Baron Glass – he has no claim to you either?’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Then you have no man?’

Seeing where the talk was heading, Mirage said, ‘I have no man, but I cannot be your woman, my lord, whatever that might mean. Your wife is dead, and I’m sorry for that. But I can’t replace her.’

‘I will not make you my concubine, Mirage, if that’s what you fear. I won’t force myself into your bed. But I do desire you to stay.’

‘Desire, my lord? Or do you order it?’

‘It’s too dangerous for you in Liiria. War is coming, and Hes might be the safest place in the world for you. You say Baron Glass has no claim on you?’

Mirage hesitated, careful with her answer. ‘He has . . . feelings for me.’

Raxor frowned. ‘Oh.’ He looked away thoughtfully. ‘But he does not know you’re here.’

‘But if he learned I was your prisoner . . .’ Mirage let the implication hang there. ‘He has a temper like thunder.’

‘I should not be surprised,’ mused the king. ‘You are too lovely for men to ignore. But I will not send you off to him.’

‘Because I remind you of your wife? My lord, please . . . that is no reason at all to keep me.’

‘I will keep you here because I wish it, because it gives me joy to look at you. And because you have secrets yet to tell me, girl. Asher is right about you – you have too much knowledge in your pretty head to simply let you leave.’ Raxor got out of his chair, then dropped to one knee before Mirage. He took her hand, stroking it and smiling. ‘Let me be kind to you. Maybe then you will trust me, and you will see that you are only protecting a madman.’

‘My lord, I cannot love you, not ever, not the way you want.’ Mirage pulled back her hand. ‘If you truly want to be kind to me, then let me go.’

The old king looked at her, rebuffed and saddened. He got slowly to his feet.

‘War is coming,’ he said softly. ‘I will be ready for it. And you will help me be ready. You will make a man of me, Mirage. You can keep your body from me, I don’t need it. Just your beauty is enough for me.’

‘No, my lord,’ Mirage protested. She rose to face him. ‘I won’t have it. I won’t be your slave or your salvation. I’m a free woman and not the chattel of any man, even a king.’

‘You are my guest, Mirage,’ said Raxor evenly. ‘For as long as I wish it.’

The king turned to go. Helpless, Mirage chased after him.

‘No, King Raxor,’ she pleaded, grabbing hold of his arm. ‘You must know this is wrong. Your wife is dead. Would she want you to do this?’

‘My wife loved Reec, and she knew my duty to it. If it meant helping me protect our country, she would understand.’

‘Well then,’ said Mirage indignantly, ‘she was as mad as you are.’

Raxor smiled, reaching out to brush her check. ‘Even when you’re angry you look like her. Rest now, child. I will see you soon.’

Then, as quickly as he’d come to her, King Raxor left Mirage. Stunned, unsure where to go, she simply stared.

‘Madness! Is all of Reec filled with madman?’

Mirage went back to her chair, first taking the cameo from the table. As she sat she held the image of Raxor’s dead wife. She saw the resemblance between them now and it frightened her.

‘Kirsil,’ she whispered, summoning her Akari. ‘I think we’re in trouble.’

Not far from the drawing room, in a hallway separate from the dining area, Corvalos Chane stood alone, waiting for his master to return. He remained very still, ignoring the servants who had long ago learned to ignore him in kind. As the king’s man, he was accustomed to being in the east tower, though not a drop of noble blood flowed through his veins. In his worn leather trousers and soldier’s jerkin, he looked completely out of
place among the castle’s art and finery, keeping mostly to a shadowed corner.

Corvalos Chane had much on his mind. More than anything, he wanted his master to be pleased. He had taken on the impossible task of resurrecting Raxor’s broken spirit, trying to heal his king and make him ready for battle. Reec needed Raxor, and all the history and glory he represented. When the Diamond Queen at last marched her armies across their border, it would be Raxor that would turn them back. No one else was up to the task.

In the quiet of the hallway, Corvalos Chane thought about the girl, too, and how frightened she had looked when he’d rescued her. She was a jewel, that one, worthy of his king, but she had also set the spy’s heart fluttering. Chane had not been with a women since he could remember. Until now, their allure held little temptation for him. Mirage was different, though. She was beautiful in a way that other women were not. She was a mystery, and that intrigued him.

Chane straightened when he heard the familiar sound of Raxor approaching, the distinct din of his heavy boots clicking on the polished floor. Raxor appeared quickly, his face shining in the hall’s candlelight. He was a big man still, as tall as Chane himself and almost twice as wide, and when he grinned he lit the room. Corvalos Chane smiled back at his beloved king.

‘My lord is pleased,’ said the spy.

King Raxor put his giant hand on Chane’s cheek, patting it. ‘I’m grateful, Corvalos. I didn’t believe you at first, but she is everything you promised. She is so beautiful it takes my breath away.’

‘She is Lady Helea’s spitting image, my lord, is she not?’

‘Aye, she could be her daughter. And fiery!’

Chane shrugged. ‘I did warn you.’

‘Ah, she is afraid, that’s all.’ Raxor twisted a stout golden ring on his finger, the way he always did when worried. ‘She won’t be harmed. I promised her that, though I don’t know if she believes me.’

‘Give her time, my lord,’ Chane advised. ‘She will learn to love you.’

Raxor looked at his trusted friend. ‘That is too much to hope. Her heart belongs to another, I can tell. Perhaps Baron Glass himself.’

‘It doesn’t matter. She is here with you, and not with Baron Glass.’

‘Indeed,’ said Raxor. ‘And I will keep her for myself, no matter what storms the Black Baron might bring us.’

‘You can get off here,’ said the boatman. ‘It’s not far to the centre of the city. You can walk the way easily.’

Lukien looked out over the edge of the dock, to the sprawling city on the riverbank. The spires of Torlis shadowed his face. He smelled the briny scent of salt drying along the rocks at low tide and the pungent odours of crowded humanity. While black flies swarmed their boat, the boatman, Akhir, guided his tiny vessel toward the dock, scraping it alongside and tossing ropes to dark-skinned workers. A hundred other boats were tied there, and a hundred more choked the river, fishing boats and barges filled with cargo. Men and boys waded in the shallow parts of the river, tossing nets. Along the bank, homes of mud brick baked in the sun, erected on pylons to keep from flooding when the river rose. Beyond the homes, the centre of Torlis beckoned with its densely built temples and minarets. Somewhere in the distance a bell rang.

The workers with the ropes jerked the boat to the dock. Lukien held to the rail as the vessel jolted to a stop. Akhir hurried to secure the moorings, his gnarled hands quickly tying knots. Beside him stood Jahan, looking moonstruck as he gazed upon Torlis. For three days they had been aboard Akhir’s boat, hiring him out of a busy fishing village, the only man willing to ferry them to Torlis. For the price of their worn-out horse and donkey, Akhir had navigated them up the wide river, expertly avoiding the treacherous spots. Years of piloting his ancient boat had given Akhir a confident hand, and while he captained Lukien and Jahan could relax and rest themselves. It had been a pleasant, unremarkable journey, and the two men had deepened their friendship, getting to know one another and swapping tales. Under the starry nights, Torlis seemed a thousand miles away.

But now the great city towered all around them, and Jahan did not speak at all. He simply gazed, his eyes wide with breathless awe. His ponytail of hair pendulated to the rocking surf. Lukien sidled closer. For both of them, their arrival was a victory. As Akhir secured the vessel,
Lukien and Jahan pondered the city and its people. To Lukien, they were very much like the villagers he had already encountered in Tharlara, but their city was much more advanced. Monuments were everywhere, sprouting like reeds among the paved roads cut between the grand buildings. In the centre of the city rose an elaborate palace of shimmering limestone. A trio of graceful spires turned upward from the palace, capped with golden domes that showered sunlight into the streets. The palace was easily the largest building in Torlis, dwarfing everything around it and surrounded by greenery and pools of blue water. Lukien nudged Jahan.

‘The Red Eminence?’

Jahan nodded. ‘It must be.’

Torlis itself went on for miles, but beyond the city rose a mountain range, and from that range grew a single giant of a mountain, its broad shoulders packed with snow, its peak puncturing the clouds. The river they had followed for so long snaked around the city and disappeared into the mountains. The glorious mountain drew Lukien’s gaze. He had never seen its like before, and despite the grandness of Torlis it was the mountain that made him feel small.

The boatman finished tying off his moors and came to stand beside his passengers. Akhir was a lean man, long of bone, with thoughtful eyes that gave him an air of wisdom.

‘That’s where the river comes from,’ he said, noticing the way Lukien spied the mountain. ‘When the snows melt, the river swells. It will soon happen again.’

‘And make the land strong,’ said Lukien.

Akhir smiled. ‘Yes. You are learning, foreigner.’

‘And what about that big mountain?’ Lukien asked. ‘Does it have a name?’

‘That’s a holy mountain,’ said Akhir. ‘The people of Torlis call it the House of Sercin.’

‘Who is Sercin? A ruler?’

‘Sercin is the god of this land. Look, you will see his image everywhere,’ said Akhir. He pointed toward the city and its spires. ‘You see that temple? That is a temple of Sercin.’

Lukien and Jahan both peered through the daylight. From out of the mud and limestone buildings jutted a tower topped with the image of what looked like a snake, its fanged maw opened wide.

‘You mean that one?’ asked Lukien. ‘With the serpent’s head?’

‘That is Sercin,’ Akhir explained. ‘That is how the people of Torlis say he appears. He is the patron of the city, the one who looks over them.’

‘And he lives in the mountain?’

Akhir shrugged. ‘So they say. I do not believe or disbelieve. The people
of Torlis turn the river to blood when the time comes, and that is all I care about.’

Lukien was careful not to ask too many questions. So far, they had managed to avoid telling Akhir much about their journey, and the wily boatman seemed not to care. When they had requested passage to Torlis, Akhir had not asked why, but had merely taken their animals and given them to his family for safe keeping. Now, with his cargo safely delivered, he was eager to return home.