Page 101 of Play of Shadows
But the archduke’s reply was distant, fragmented. I could hear the misery– the sudden, unquenchable sorrow– in his voice.Forgive me, Player. I have failed you, just as I failed Ajelaine. I. . . I cannot bear witness to tyranny winning the day yet again.
Corbier’s memories began to fade and the instincts honed from a lifetime of duelling and warfare fled my limbs.
You coward! Don’t leave me like this—
The rapier felt heavy in my hand now, and worse, I felt clumsy, stiff. My fingers couldn’t find their grip any more and my arm couldn’t keep the point in a decent guard position.
I’m done for, I realised as the margravina and her protectors closed on me.My friends will die. If she does leave me alive, I’ll be maimed, left to beg for copper tears until cold or starvation takes me. She’ll murder my grandfather, and the Iron Orchids will rule this city– and whoever commands them will have won without ever having to show their true face.
I tightened my grip on my sword and took a step towards her.The Hells for that. Let them try and capture me while I’m stabbing the living shit out of them. If I die today, at least I’ll die like a gods-damned Greatcoat!
‘Look at that,’ the Vixen chuckled. ‘My rabbit still has some fight left in him.’
As bitter frustration filled me, fury rose from deep in my belly and my mouth opened wide to give voice to that rage. The roarthat ensued was as deafening as an ocean rising up to crash down upon this unjust, undeserving world, as if the alley itself were screaming its outrage at this desecration.
It took me a second to realise the sound hadn’t come from me.
I saw it first in the wide-eyed expressions on the faces of the Iron Orchids in front of me, then in the eyes of the Masked Margravina. I spun round to see a massive figure charging the enemy, leading a troop of soldiers in Duke Monsegino’s pertine-blue livery. After a moment, I recognised Captain Terine, and alongside her was Lady Shariza, dressed head to toe in black and moving like a devil’s shadow through the alley. I wasn’t sure which was the more terrifying sight.
The Iron Orchids decided to call the outcome a draw and ran from them both. The Vixen followed, but not before calling out to me, ‘One last night of freedom then, dear Rabbit. We have yet to have our final encounter. . .’
My whole body was shaking, not from fear this time, or even anger, just utter disgust.
Even now, with all this blood spilled and fire and mayhem spreading everywhere, it’s all just a game to her.
A deeper and more troubling thought occurred to me as I suddenly recalled one of Sigurdis Macha’s lines fromThe Garden of Majesty:How often we find those in power and those who seek it grasping like children at each other’s toys.The nobles of this city were capable of intrigues and schemes, but not this slow, patient strategy that appeared to be unfolding all over the duchy. Someone had to be orchestrating all of this– someone who wasn’t a child.
But who? How do you have a conspiracy with no conspirators?
Then Captain Terine called out, ‘The gods love things in threes!’ Her expression left no doubt as to just how badly she wanted to massacre the Orchids. ‘In their honour, leave me three of thevarlets alive for questioning. Wash these streets clean with the blood of the rest!’
Another roar of approval rose up from her troops as they rushed past me like a hurricane, leaving a single, tall blade of grass untouched.
‘Are you hurt?’ Shariza asked, pausing in front of me, her eyes tracing every cut on my face and arms.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, summoning a grin to reassure her. ‘If you’re not otherwise occupied, there’s a masked margravina back there who could do with a bit of smiting.’
Shariza tilted her head, watching me like a cat. ‘I can never quite tell if you’re a timid person who pretends at times to be brave, or a brave one who’s been trying to convince himself for far too long that he’s a coward.’
Exhaustion and one too many brushes with death made me reckless. ‘Which one stands a chance of winning your heart, my Lady?’
‘Both, it appears,’ she replied, and surprised me with a kiss on the cheek. Then, just like that, she was gone.
I sought her through the madding crowd as the ducal forces easily overwhelmed the Iron Orchids, catching glimpses here and there. Wielding a pair of foot-long stiletto blades, she went sneaking in and out of the mass of armoured bodies, leaving a sliced leg here, a slit throat there. This was neither duelling nor warfare: it was more like watching a plague of locusts ravaging a field of wheat.
Dashini, I thought dumbly. Most of us knew little about the ancient order of unstoppable assassins. The only thing I could say for certain was that Lady Shariza, the Black Amaranth, was unquestionably one of them.
‘By the blood of every saint,’ Beretto swore, limping over to stand beside me, ‘I must advise you in the strongest possible terms never to disappoint that woman.’
I looked over my friend as intently as Shariza had examined me. ‘You’re bleeding everywhere,’ I said.
Beretto brushed my hand away. ‘It’s mostly their blood, not mine. We’ve done remarkably well for a bunch of untrained actors facing off against armoured militants.’ He looked down at the battered axe in his hand. ‘For a minute there, when you and I were fighting back to back, I felt something rising within me, almost as if I had become. . .’
‘Become what?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing. The fog of battle has addled my senses.’ He gave a chuckle that ended in a hoarse cough. ‘Who would have thought that Shoville might have made an outstanding general had he not chosen to become a mediocre theatre director?’
Despite my own injuries, despite the sight of the Operato Belleza still blazing, I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of General Shoville leading real troops into battle, pausing every few feet as they charged up the hill to adjust a soldier’s helmet or tabard. ‘Just because we’re fighting a war doesn’t mean we have to look like ruffians,’ he’d have said.
