The Sword Of Angels (Gollancz S.F.) (63 page)

She inquired about him to servants she passed in the halls, and when they claimed to know nothing she left the castle to survey the grounds, where a sharp-eyed page boy told her he had seen Chane a few hours earlier, taking a horse from the stable. Mirage cursed her bad luck, sure that Chane would not be back before the morning. She stood in the courtyard, alone with the page, unsure if she should wait or simply go to bed.

‘Did he say where he was going?’ Mirage asked the boy.

‘Master Chane doesn’t speak to me,’ laughed the boy. ‘Sorry, Ma’am.’

He excused himself and then was gone, leaving Mirage confused. She was angry too, because King Raxor had ordered Chane to look after her and in the whole past month he had barely left her side. Now that she needed him . . .

‘No,’ she said, stopping herself and feeling bad for cursing him. She wasn’t a Reecian, after all, and could not really know the depth of his pain. Suddenly she found herself wandering, not wanting to go back to her rooms. She felt like a foreigner again, unwelcome.

He’ll come back eventually,
she told herself.

He just needed to be alone, just for a while, to deal with the terrible news. So Mirage went to the stable where she was sure Chane would reappear. Like everything in Castle Hes, the stables were enormous, and manned day and night by rough-looking hands who eyed her suspiciously when she stepped through the wooden gates. The ground, pitted with horseshoe marks, smelled of horse manure. A few lanterns hung in the stalls. The boys who had finished their hard day of work squatted in a circle in one of the stalls, playing a dice game. They all stopped when they saw Mirage. The look on their faces spoke of desire, the kind Mirage was still unaccustomed to. She glanced away, gazing at the stalls and the resting horses until a man – a soldier – called to her from across the way.

‘My lady? Have you need of anything?’

He had a brush in his hand and was grooming a horse, a big, chestnut coloured beast that whinnied at his loving attention. Mirage paused, taking a moment to remember him. She had only seen him briefly when he’d come into the garden to deliver the terrible news.

‘No,’ she said. Then, ‘Yes. I’m . . . looking for someone.’

Did he know who she was? Most in the castle did, but never took the time to speak to her.

‘There’s only me here, my lady,’ he said, ‘and the boys who work here. Who are you looking for?’

‘My name is Mirage,’ she offered.

He nodded. ‘I know who you are, my lady.’ He surprised her with a smile. ‘You are the king’s woman.’

‘Yes,’ she replied. She had been called that so often it no longer offended her. ‘Sir, I am looking for Corvalos Chane. Have you seen him tonight?’

‘You were with him in the garden, when I told him the news.’ The soldier looked inquisitive. ‘You heard by now, then?’

‘Everyone has heard, but I don’t know the details,’ said Mirage. ‘That’s why I am looking for Corvalos Chane. Where is he? Do you know?’

‘He has gone,’ said the man. ‘He rode out hours ago but didn’t say where he was going.’

‘Just like that? He just left?’

‘Just like that, my lady,’ said the soldier. He let the hand with the brush drop to his side. ‘I was unlucky enough to give him the news. I’ve never seen his face like that, not in all my life. And I have known him a long time.’

‘He’s supposed to protect me,’ said Mirage impotently. She laughed at the notion. ‘That must sound silly to you, but he surprises me. To leave without a word to me . . .’

‘He has much on his mind, my lady. The king will be return in less than a week. I am sure Chane does not relish seeing him.’ The soldier set down his brush and stepped away from his horse. ‘My name is Donil,’ he said.

Mirage returned his smile. He had that rare quality among the people of Castle Hes, a genuine kindness. ‘The folk of the castle have kept me in the dark all day, Donil,’ she said. ‘Will you tell me what has happened?’

‘To Prince Roland, you mean?’

‘To the prince, yes. And to the king.’

Donil shook his head. ‘It’s not for a woman to hear, my lady.’

‘But I must,’ said Mirage. ‘I have waited all day to hear the truth of what happened, and I cannot sleep at all until I know. Please, Sir Donil – if Corvalos Chane is not here to tell me, then won’t you?’

The soldier studied her face, considering her request. ‘You’re a Liirian, I’ve heard,’ he said. ‘I suppose you have a right to know what your countrymen did.’

‘Then you have heard wrong, Sir Donil, for I am not a Liirian and the men that did this deed are not my countrymen. Forget what you’ve heard about me, please. I’m neither a Liirian nor the king’s whore.’

‘My lady, your pardon,’ said Donil without offense. ‘But you were a consort of Baron Glass. I have heard that correctly, at least.’

‘A consort? No,’ Mirage corrected. She thought of going further but stopped herself. ‘It doesn’t matter anyway. Please . . . tell me what happened at the river.’

‘I know only what the king’s riders told us,’ said Donil. ‘They came ahead of his army.’

‘They arrived this morning?’

Donil nodded. ‘Just before I saw you and Chane in the garden, my lady. It was decided I would tell Chane what had happened. A bitter duty, believe me, but he is well with me.’

‘You are friends?’

Donil laughed. ‘No, madam. Corvalos Chane counts no one as his friend. He serves only his master. But we talk, and if anyone in Castle Hes knows his mind then it is I, I suppose.’

‘I have never seen him the way I did this morning,’ said Mirage. The memory of his face rattled her. ‘And it isn’t just because of Prince Roland. Tell me – how bad was the defeat?’

‘The defeat was total, my lady. The king was lucky to escape alive, I think. I don’t know how many men died. Hundreds at least. But they say your man Glass—’ Donil corrected himself. ‘Baron Glass. They say he was unstoppable, my lady, like a thing from hell.’

The description made Mirage freeze. ‘They say that?’

‘Those who survived, yes. The rumours of him are true, then. Do you see now why the whole castle trembles tonight? If Baron Glass comes, there will be no way to stop him.’ Donil looked at her strangely. ‘Unless you know of a way, my lady.’

‘Me? Why would you ask me such a thing?’

‘As I said, I hear things,’ said Donil. He glanced around, lowering his voice. ‘My lady, you need to be careful.’

‘Why?’ Unable to help herself, Mirage looked over her shoulder. ‘What are you telling me?’

‘Just keep yourself safe until Chane returns, is all. There are people talking.’

‘Donil, what people?’ Mirage demanded. ‘What are you talking about?’

Donil smiled, determined to say no more, and turned back to his waiting horse. ‘Chane should be back by the morning,’ he told her. ‘Until then, do yourself the favour of staying out of sight.’

His words frightened her. And perplexed her. She had a thousand questions for the enigmatic soldier, but his manner told her not to ask them. Mirage looked suspiciously around the stable. Nothing seemed out of order. The stable hands continued with their dice game. The horses rested happily. It felt late suddenly, and oddly cold.

‘I’ll go now then,’ said Mirage awkwardly.

She watched Donil. The soldier didn’t turn around, but gave her a cheery farewell.

‘Sleep well, my lady.’

*

Mirage had got used to Corvalos Chane around her, and without him to protect her she found sleep almost impossible. With only her Akari to keep her company, Mirage lay beneath the expensive sheets, staring at the copper ceiling and wondering about the riddle Donil had set at her feet. Kirsil wandered in and out of her mind, as perplexed as her master as to the meaning of the soldier’s words. Were they in danger? Laurella didn’t think so, nor did any of the other maids. Castle Hes was in mourning, and the thought of anyone doing harm to Mirage in Raxor’s absence seemed unthinkable to Laurella, who insisted that Mirage go to bed after her wanderings through the courtyard. Mirage sighed and turned her head to glance out the open window. She had pulled the wooden shutters wide apart to let in the meagre breeze. Moonlight spilled into her opulent chamber. The world was remarkably quiet, and Mirage could clearly hear her own heartbeat, thumping uneasily in her chest.

Kirsil? Are you there?

The young Akari replied,
I am always here, Mirage. You know that.

‘Yes,’ Mirage whispered. She did know Kirsil was always with her, though sometimes she needed reassurance.

You should sleep now,
said Kirsil.
Try, at least.

‘Where’s Chane, do you think?’ Mirage asked. ‘Do you think he’ll return?’

Of course. He must return. He is pledged to the king. And to you now, Mirage.

‘Yes . . .’

The spirit’s words did little to comfort Mirage. But she was tired and it was very late, and soon her eyelids grew heavy. Half fighting it, she began to slip toward slumber, at first restlessly, then more deeply as her exhaustion won out. The gentle noises outside her window lulled her, and she began to dream.

Mostly, she dreamed of Thorin. She dreamed of how he had once been, when he was kind. He had loved her and comforted her. Even before she had changed her appearance, he had showed her kindness. In her dream she longed for him, as though her dream had unlocked a passion she had long kept suppressed. She missed the old man.

The dream faded, and Mirage slept. An hour passed without her notice and then another, and in her mind she heard the sound of scraping. She ignored it, but when it came again her eyes fluttered open. She felt Kirsil jolt through her mind.

Wake up! said the Akari.

Mirage bolted upright with a gasp. ‘What?’ Her pulsed raced and her eyes scanned the room. Through the dark and silvery moonlight, she could barely see at all. ‘Kirsil? Was that you?’

Mirage, look!

‘What?’

And then she saw him. He sat at the edge of her bed, one leg casually crossed over the other, staring at her with his manic gaze. His hands were clasped over his knee. The whiff of a demented smile curled his lips. His scarred face twitched when their eyes met.

Mirage went numb. The door to her chamber was closed. He was alone, though she couldn’t tell for certain. She raised the sheet over her bosom, unable to speak.

‘Good evening,’ Asher drawled.

He waited politely for her reply. Mirage could barely find her voice.

‘What are you doing here?’ she gasped.

‘It’s been quite a day for me, pretty Mirage. You can imagine my surprise at the news of King Raxor’s defeat.’ Asher leaned forward. ‘What do you think I am doing here?’

‘I don’t know,’ spat Mirage. ‘But if you don’t leave I will scream.’

‘You may scream as long and as loudly as you like. My men are right outside that door, and no one is going to come to help you. You’re mine, finally, the way you always should have been.’

Mirage sat up quickly. ‘Laurella! Sela! Help!’

‘The maids have been excused for the night,’ said Asher. He grinned, pleased with himself. ‘And good King Raxor is not here to come to your rescue this time. No one is going to rescue you, child. They blame you for the death of Prince Roland. And rightly so, I might add.’

‘That’s madness!’ cried Mirage.

‘I told you I would find out your secrets. I always knew you were hiding something. I should have pulled off your pretty fingernails the moment I met you, but I was soft and you . . .’ Asher sighed as though he’d just finished a great meal. ‘You were so beautiful.’ He looked pained suddenly. And completely mad. ‘I was tempted by you. You weakened me. But now I’m going to find out your secrets, pretty Mirage.’

‘What secrets?’

Anger flashed across Asher’s face. ‘The armour, you whore!’

Mirage leaned back against the headboard. ‘You’re insane.’

‘And you are hiding the very thing that could have saved Prince Roland and the rest of the army. But never mind – you may tell all the lies you wish for now. I’ll get the truth out of you.’

Asher got to his feet and went to the door. Opening it, he revealed a team of burly prison guards, all dressed in the same frightening grey tunics. The men leered at her, enjoying the sight of her in her nightdress. One stepped forward quickly with a pair of manacles.

‘Take her,’ Asher ordered.

‘No!’

Mirage sprang to her feet, desperate to escape. The men rushed at her, grabbing her arms and twisting her around. She tried to fight them, but they were like a straight-jacket suddenly, suffocating her and pinning back her arms. She screamed, but a giant hand fell over her mouth to silence her. Angrily she bit it, tasting blood. The guard howled. Violently he yanked back her head, preparing to strike her.

‘Don’t you dare,’ said Asher quickly. He stepped forward as his men put the manacles around her wrists. His spidery fingers came up to brush her chin. ‘She’s perfect, Garl. That’s how I want her – a perfect canvas for me to paint on.’

Garl, the prison guard, grunted and stepped away, favouring his bleeding hand. Two of the others took Mirage by the elbows.