THE NEW GREATCOATS
‘Reckon he’s telling the truth, Venger?’ one of the scrawny assemblage asked.
Venger looked at me. ‘Reckon he is. Reckon he’s what he says he is, and he did what he said he did.’
I sheathed one sword and picked up the other and sheathed that as well. I took the bracer of knives back from Aline and put it back in my coat. ‘So we’re done?’
‘We didn’t mean no harm,’ Venger said. ‘We thought you was one of those fools goin’ ’round calling themselves Greatcoats. Just thought as how we’d put a scare in you, is all.’
That gave me a jolt. ‘Someone’s going around pretending to be a Greatcoat? Who would ever do that?’
‘I would,’ came a voice from the far side of the building.
In the blink of an eye my blade was in my hand and Venger’s crew were all crouched and ready to fight. The man casually walked over to us. He was young, about eighteen years old, and a little taller than me. He was thin, with sandy hair and an angular face, and he was carrying a rapier much like mine on his left hip. And he was wearing a Greatcoat.
Venger recognised him, and suddenly the tension went out of him and his group. ‘Aw, Cairn, you dumb pug. Go back and fight your own shadow some more.’
Cairn ignored him and walked up to me, ignoring my outstretched sword and gave me an awkward hug. ‘Brother!’ he said. ‘When I heard there was another of us in the city, being chased by the Duke’s men …’ He pulled back and looked me up and down. ‘And one of the first, too! Are you Parrick? I’d heard rumours he was alive and had come through this way.’
‘Parrick doesn’t look a bit like me, and he’s nowhere near here. I’m Falcio—’
Cairn gasped. ‘So it’s true—!’ and dropped to one knee. ‘First Cantor,’ he said portentously, ‘my name is Cairn of the New Greatcoats. My life is at your disposal.’
Venger snorted. ‘Better dispose of it soon, too,’ he said. ‘It’s likely to smell bad in a few hours.’
‘Quiet, Venger, or I’ll give you a cuff.’
‘You just try it, Cairn,’ Venger said. ‘I’ve whupped your ass before and I’ll do it again.’
‘That was – that was just luck,’ Cairn said, adding quickly, ‘I was still in training.’
I interrupted them and put a hand on Cairn’s arm. ‘What is this about “new” Greatcoats? Who are you talking about?’
Cairn turned back to me. ‘We’ve re-formed the Order of the Greatcoats,’ he said, excitement and pride brimming over in his voice. ‘Well, really it was Lorenzo who started it. He’s incredible. I can’t wait for you to meet him – meet everybody. This is amazing! Falcio val Mond, First Cantor!’
‘Wait, give me a moment to understand this. You’re telling me that a group of you have started your own Greatcoats?’
He nodded.
‘But whose laws do you enforce? There’s no King.’
He hesitated and Venger snorted again. ‘Tell ’im, Cairn. Tell ’im all about you and your great bunch of heroes!’
‘Well, it’s – I mean, we’re just starting out still …’
‘“Starting out”! Ha! You’re just a bunch of poncy pricks – rich kids from rich families tryin’ to act all tough and rebellious.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘If you don’t hear cases, then what do you do?’
‘We’re still forming the Order,’ Cairn said. ‘Look, come with me, let me introduce you to Lorenzo and the New Greatcoats. We could really use you.’
‘How many of you are there? I’m trying to keep this girl alive for the rest of the Blood Week – her family’s been killed and the Duke’s men are after her.’
Cairn smiled. ‘There’s almost thirty of us – trust me, Falcio, we can help you keep her alive. We’re strong together – Lorenzo’s the greatest swordsman who’s ever lived!’
I seriously doubted that, but I needed allies, and I didn’t think Venger’s child gangsters were going to be much good at keeping us alive.
‘You’d be better off stayin’ with us,’ Venger said, as if he could read my thoughts. ‘I know these streets better’n anyone, and we know ways in and out of every building in Old Town.’
It was Cairn’s turn to be derisive. ‘You? Thieves and beggars? You’ll probably turn them over to the Duke’s men for a shiny coin.’
‘Say that again,’ Venger said, a small knife in his hand. ‘Say it twice more and we’ll just see.’
‘How far to your men?’ I asked Cairn.
‘Just a few blocks, to the other side of Old Town. Come on, we can get there in half an hour!’
I looked at Venger. ‘Thanks for the offer,’ I said, ‘but the men who are after us are brutal, and they won’t give quarter or mercy. I know you can handle it, but some of your folk are awfully young.’
Venger gave a snort that was almost comical on a boy his age. ‘Suit y’self,’ he said, ‘but I’ll tell you straight: I wouldn’t trust these fools to guard a dead cat.’
Mixer gave a bark, in agreement or hunger, I wasn’t sure which.
*
I don’t know what exactly I was expecting of Cairn’s New Greatcoats, but it wasn’t what I saw at the stronghold on the far side of Old Town. Inside the wide two-storey stone building, small rooms surrounded a single large space in the centre. Outside, it was still pitch-black; inside, hundreds of candles and a blazing fire in the large central fireplace combined to illuminate the room. A group of musicians were playing reels I’d never heard before, and Cairn’s Greatcoats were dancing, their bodies casting undulating shadows against the walls. The result was a primal, almost sexual atmosphere.
‘Had you heard anything about this?’ I asked Aline. She lived in Rijou, after all.
But she shook her head vigorously. ‘I remember Mother telling me that the Duke was always sending his men out to find rebel Greatcoats, but I guess I always assumed he meant your people.’
I wondered at that. The Covenant specifically forbade any retribution against the Greatcoats. But then again, the Dukes only occasionally played fair, and without exception they played to win.
‘Lorenzo!’ Cairn shouted excitedly.
The man who turned in response looked like a Saint from an old romance. He was tall, standing at least six and a half feet. His long, golden hair framed a tanned face that would make Brasti look like a decayed crone, and his body made Kest look like an ill-fed orphan. He wore blackened leather trousers and a supple mail shirt that I recognised with envy as Ilthen Steel-Ring: hard to make and very, very expensive. The rings blocked both sword and knife, but were light as winter wool. It clung lovingly to his form, showing off his physique to great effect. It was hard not to suspect that might have been intentional. His coat, though … His coat was a greatcoat, to be sure; it was certainly well made, and it looked serviceable enough in a fight. But it was not a Greatcoat. It wasn’t of the Tailor’s making. I’d seen every coat she’d ever made, and hers was a cut that couldn’t be duplicated by anyone I’d ever encountered. I’d often wondered if the King could have even started the Greatcoats without her.
‘Cairn? What in hells are you doing bringing someone here?’ Lorenzo said. There was a casual smile on his face but I could hear irritation underneath – irritation, and something more: a sort of mild disdain mixed with tolerance.
‘He’s one of us, Lorenzo,’ Cairn said, no longer able to contain his excitement. ‘He’s one of the originals! It’s Falcio, the First Cantor!’
Lorenzo eyed me for a moment, clearly unimpressed with what he saw. I had to forgive him that. I was exhausted, road-and battle-weary, my clothes were shabby and even my greatcoat was torn and patched. He left off his inspection of me for a moment and asked carefully, ‘Who’s the girl?’
‘Aline, daughter of Lord Tiarren,’ I said.
‘Saints,’ Lorenzo said quietly. ‘I heard what happened.’ He knelt down, his face now level with hers. ‘You’re safe here now, my Lady. To the hells with Ganath Kalila; the Blood Week won’t reach you inside these walls.’
Aline gave a proper curtsy and extended her hand. ‘I am grateful, sir. We are pursued by the Duke’s men. If not for this man, I would have died half a dozen times already.’
Lorenzo looked up at me. ‘So it’s true then? You really are one of the King’s Magisters?’
I nodded.
‘The First Cantor?’
I nodded again.