Page 81 of Play of Shadows
‘Margravina, actually,’ the Vixen corrected her. ‘Didn’t you hear? Duke Monsegino’s aunt, Viscountess Kareija, has this verynight persuaded her nephew to sign an accord with my family. We may have been disgraced these past fifteen years, but we’ve never been short of money. As it happens, we have many,manyprivate soldiers in our household, and Kareija wisely concluded they would be most helpful in keeping his Grace’s head attached to his shoulders in the coming days. Duke Monsegino wasn’t pleased, but he came around eventually. He’s off explaining the new arrangement to the– well, I suppose we must refer to him now as theformerMargrave of Sorveau.’
She set her gaze on one of the guards and gestured to a table laden with flasks of wine and silver-rimmed goblets. The man barely hesitated before running to fill one for her. Captain Terine looked displeased, but forbore to admonish him in front of the newly minted margravina.
The Vixen smiled. ‘There, see how quickly we all adapt to our new stations?’ She turned back to me. ‘It is as if the Gods of Love and Death themselves wish to bless my ascension, for even as I idled here awaiting the duke’s return, they sent you to me, my beloved rabbit, that I might end my duelling career with one final flourish.’
I felt Beretto shifting closer to me, sensed his hand drifting to his dirk, even as his eyes passed over each of the guards to see if any were close enough for him to grab one of their spears. Rhyleis had a hand in her coat, no doubt ready to produce some exotic Bardatti weapon secreted there.
The Vixen, sharp-eyed as ever, caught both movements and her cheeks flushed with delight. ‘Oh my, an actor and a minstrel preparing to unlawfully draw weapons on a margravina in the ducal throne room? What fun this is going to be– I can barely wait. . .’ She waved a finger and as one, the guards pointed their spears at Beretto.
I watched in awe as he stood by me, refusing to back up even a step. What makes a person so steadfast in their friendship, intheir beliefs in what is right and what is wrong? And Rhyleis– who I’d met only yesterday– stood with us, ready to fend off the guards with. . . what? A devastatingly sharp poem? It was beginning to look suspiciously as if the two of them were ready to die for me.
And die they will, Corbier’s dry voice observed,if you huddle behind them, shivering your little bunny tail as you await the Vixen’s teeth.
‘Stop!’ I shouted, stepping in front of my absurdly steadfast friends– and coming perilously close to being speared through the heart by an overeager guard.
Ferica di Traizo laughed. ‘So eager to dance, my rabbit? Surely you would not strike a lady in so boorish a fashion?’
I hadn’t even realised I’d raised a clenched fist– was that Corbier’s doing? And what on earth was he hoping to accomplish? I was reasonably skilled at stage fisticuffs, although that meant only that I was particularly good atnothitting people.
Corbier wouldn’t shut up. He just kept egging me on.It’s not so hard: you bat away the spear with the palm of your left hand, spin counter-clockwise and follow the shaft. Drive your right fist into the guard’s nose between the gap by the steel cheek-guard of his helmet– he’ll try to grab you, of course, so his fellows can stab you in the back, but you just need to duck under his arms and come up the other side, where you’ll be close enough to this Lady Fox of yours to strike her in the throat with your elbow. Crush the windpipe and—
‘Shut up, and damn you to every Hell that’ll take you!’ I bellowed.
Ferica tut-tutted at me. ‘Now, now, my rabbit. Such coarse language? Where is that devil’s tongue of yours that so brilliantly humiliated me in front of the entire duelling court last year, leaving me no choice but to drop my suit against yourgrandfather to accept your challenge instead?’
‘He’s a seventy-year-old old man, no threat to you even in his prime, yet you would have murdered him without cause!’
The whimsical smile fell away, and for just a moment, Ferica di Traizo’s soul was laid bare. Her features were so cold, so devoid of humanity, that it was as if a corpse were addressing me. ‘Did you know it happened right where we’re standing?’ she asked.
‘My Lady, whatever your griev—’
‘Mygrievance? Shall I recount for you my life’s sad tale, my rabbit? How Virany Chademantaigne’– she spat out the name with such venom I couldn’t stop myself flinching– ‘ruinedmy mother? How she slandered her and rendered false judgements against her in public? How she invoked trial by combat to uphold her malicious verdict?’ The Vixen tapped a finger over her left breast. ‘How the King’s Parry put six inches of steel through my mother’s heart– just here?’
My grandfather had told me the story– but not like this. I caught the crucial lie in the Vixen’s recounting. ‘Lady di Traizo, it wasyourmother who issued the challenge. She was the one who deman—’
But the Vixen, oblivious, was pacing a semicircle on the marble floor. ‘The spray of her blood reached all the way to this spot right here, where her young daughter, only twelve years old, had been waiting impatiently for her mother to finish her silly business at court so she could take her home.’
She looked back at me. ‘What better beginning could there be to a tragic revenge story?’
‘Please, these vendettas serve no—’
Corbier’s voice cut me off.You waste your words, Player. She does not see you. She sees only her past unfolding before her, again and again.
As if to prove the Raven’s point, the Vixen continued softly, lost in remembrance of a childhood long gone, ‘Mother hadrefused a hundred times– athousand– to teach me fencing.’ Her voice and the way she moved were unnaturally wistful. ‘Duelling wasn’t a suitable career for a damina’s daughter, she insisted.’ She pivoted on her heel, spinning like a child. ‘But your grandmother took care of that, didn’t she? My mother’s title was rescinded, her ancestral lands given to the peasants she’d been wrongfully accused of mistreating.’ She began a damina’s flourish, but instead, moved seamlessly into a lower-ranked lady’s curtsey. ‘So the dilemma of how I might become a duellist was solved for me by the King’s Parry– and all it cost was my mother’s life.’
The sincerity of the Vixen’s portrayal reminded me how easily history could become twisted, the myth growing with each retelling. In truth, Heilana di Traizo’s story was far crueller– and more common– than her daughter suggested. A landlord of brutal efficiency, Heilana had starved her farmers and their families, and when the desperate mothers had banded together to seek justice from the Ducal Court, Heilana had had their children locked in a barn and threatened to set it on fire unless they withdrew their claims.
I’d been a child myself at the time, but I’d snuck down the stairs late one night and heard my grandfather begging my grandmother to bring the matter before Duke Meillard. And I’d never forgotten the way she had laughed, wondering aloud when in Duke Meillard’s entire reign had heeverruled against a noble House to whom he was beholden?
That was why a Greatcoat had to take the case.
But that wasn’t the entire truth either, was it? Dukes weren’t unfeeling monsters sitting on luxurious thrones playing with stacks of gold jubilants; they were weak, dependent on the wealth and armies of their nobles, who methodically wound their influence like pretty silken cords around and around the duke’s neck. If his decisions threatened their interests, theytugged on those cords, choking off his attempts before any displeasing edicts could be issued.
Is that why you broke the line of succession, Duke Meillard? Did you grow to hate your throne so much you couldn’t abide the thought of your daughter being imprisoned upon it?
‘Ah,’ said Ferica di Traizo. The mock sadness showed her mask was firmly back in place. ‘I see my rabbit grows bored with this dull recitation of my family history.’
‘No, my Lady,’ I started quickly, forcing down Corbier’s contempt, ‘please, I mean no offen—’
