Lorenzo rose to his full height. ‘Saints,’ he said, ‘this is incredible.’
He gripped me in a hug and said something which I presumed was ‘brother’ in my ear. For some reason I found the gesture too familiar.
‘Brothers! Sisters!’ Lorenzo called, his voice carrying above the music, and the musicians stopped almost immediately. Clearly Lorenzo was the man in charge here. All eyes turned to me and I looked around. I guessed there were some forty men and women staring at us, all young, strong and attractive. I added rich to that list, since the fourth usually accompanies the first three.
‘Brothers and sisters, a sign has come to us: a sign from Gods and Saints alike,’ Lorenzo proclaimed. ‘This man – this man is Falcio val Mond, First Cantor of the King’s Magisters: the man who helped start the Greatcoats has come to us to join our great undertaking!’
At first the cheering was a bit on the unenthusiastic side, as if his audience wasn’t quite sure what any of that meant, but it grew steadily until it was a roar in my ear. I felt Aline move closer to me.
‘I don’t know what this is about,’ I said quietly to Cairn.
Lorenzo heard me. ‘It’s about you coming here, against all the odds in the world. It’s a sign, First Cantor, can’t you see? It’s the sign we’ve been waiting for. This is the day we begin the revolution, the day we start the fight for the freedom of our city and our country!’
There was more cheering, and I found myself at a loss. Were these people really planning on bringing the Greatcoats back into the world? How had this started? Was this part of the King’s plan? Thoughts swirled around my head, but no conclusion was forthcoming, and all I was left with was an unsettling sense that something wasn’t quite right.
‘Say something!’ someone shouted. A few people laughed, but then others joined in the call until almost everyone was shouting, ‘Speak! Speak!’
Lorenzo pushed me forward.
Reluctantly, I opened my mouth and started, ‘I don’t know you. I don’t know any of you, who you are or what you’re about. I’m not here to start some revolution, I’m not here to be a sign, and Saints know I’m not here to lead more good men and women to their deaths.’
I paused for a moment, curious about how they would react, but they didn’t, so I continued, ‘The law has been broken – the King’s Law. This girl’s family has been murdered, and she herself is the target of assassins. Lorenzo spoke true when he told you who I was: my name is Falcio val Mond, and I was First Cantor of the Greatcoats. I’ve judged in this girl’s favour, so it’s my job to keep her alive until the end of the Blood Week. That’s why I’m here. That’s all.’
If Lorenzo was disappointed in my speech he didn’t show it. He smiled broadly, as if I’d just summoned the ancestors of all good men to battle.
‘Did you hear that?’ he called out. ‘The law’s been broken, a girl’s life hangs in the balance and a Greatcoat fights to save her. Falcio val Mond’s going to save her.’
He turned to me and knelt down on one knee. ‘My Lord Cantor, my name is Lorenzo; my sword is yours; my strength is yours. My life is yours.’
Without waiting for a response he rose and turned to the crowd. ‘Who else stands with Falcio?’ he asked.
A deafening roar rose up, my name, shouted over and over. The hells with the amulets; I imagined Shiballe could hear us from the palace.
‘I’m grateful,’ I said quietly to Lorenzo, ‘but right now we just need—’
He either couldn’t hear me through the din or he was ignoring me. ‘We have begun a great undertaking, my brothers, my sisters – so let’s celebrate! Someone get some damned food and drink out here!’
Another roar from the crowd.
Saint Laina-who-whores-for-Gods, I thought, who are these people?
*
I moved through the next few hours as if through a dream – someone else’s dream. The hard candy was wearing off and Aline was hungry and weary, so I decided it was better to give her a chance to rest and eat, rather than rely on a mix of herbs and esoteric sugars that would demand payback later on.
‘What do you think?’ Lorenzo asked me and gestured to his New Greatcoats. The music and dancing had resumed with fervour, and some of the crowd were paired off further down the great hall practising swordwork.
‘They seem very excited,’ I said, not sure what else to add. They looked to be fair hands with a blade, trained most likely by local fencing masters, as the rich often were. I couldn’t fault them for that, and they were certainly eager enough. But something still didn’t make sense to me.
‘How did all this start?’ I asked.
Lorenzo looked at me and smiled, his eyebrow raised. ‘Ah, now there’s a story – but a story for later on. It’s time for duels!’
‘Duels?’
He rose from his chair and motioned for the musicians to stop. ‘Brothers, sisters, let’s show our Cantor what we can do!’
There were more cheers, and several men and women advanced, pulling swords from their sheaths, waiting for the word from Lorenzo. He pointed to a pair nearby. The woman was strikingly attractive, dark hair framing a sharp but beautiful face, and the look she gave Lorenzo told me they were a couple. The man next to her was close to her height and wiry, and elegant in a dark green shirt beneath his black greatcoat.
‘I think Etricia and Mott first, then Sulless and Cole.’
There were a few disappointed looks from the others, but everyone parted to make room for the combatants.
‘They’re fighting with sharps?’ I asked. We Greatcoats practised with blades instead of wooden swords, but we’d had a lot more training than these people had.
‘Watch,’ said Lorenzo.
The man, Mott, launched himself at Etricia, who dodged neatly out of the way and brought the point of her blade in line with Mott’s chest. She delivered a thrust I thought for sure would skewer him, but he deflected it with the back of his gloved hand with the sort of calm and precision I normally see from Kest. Then he flipped his hand over and struck back towards her face, far too quickly for her to evade – and yet, she did. It was stunning to watch, almost as if they could read each other’s minds and knew each move ahead of time. Then it hit me: they did know each other’s moves ahead of time.
I leaned into Lorenzo and said, ‘They’re not duelling, they’re performing. This is all choreographed.’
Lorenzo gave me a smile. ‘Well, yes. We can’t really have our Greatcoats injuring each other, can we?’
I was shocked. This was the worst possible way to train fighters: having them work out the choreography together and then performing it. It was as if they thought the speed and sharpened blades somehow made it more real than true fighting with wooden blunts. What were these people thinking?
The fight came to a finish with a delightful flourish of bladework that ended with Etricia standing over Mott in a preposterous pose with the tip of her sword an inch from his eye. The applause was thunderous.
‘This is madness,’ I said to Cairn. ‘Why don’t you train properly?’
‘I think it’s a bit rude, don’t you, to come into our home and criticise our training systems?’ Lorenzo said.
‘I have suggested—’ Cairn began.
‘No one asked you to speak, Cairn,’ Lorenzo said, the warning clear in his voice. Though perhaps not clear enough for Cairn.
‘Everyone has a say at a Greatcoats meeting,’ he said stubbornly. ‘Why not train the way Falcio suggests? Wooden swords, but real fights, real training.’
Lorenzo sighed and rose from his chair. ‘All right then,’ he said, pulling a wickedly long rapier from its sheath. ‘Let’s train, Cairn: straight ahead combat, you and me.’
The crowd moved aside for him and Cairn looked around nervously. If he was hoping someone would object, he was out of luck.
‘But I’m not ready … I’m—’
‘Leave it,’ I said. ‘That’s not what I—’
‘Come, come, Cairn,’ Lorenzo said, his eyes locked on his opponent. ‘A Greatcoat needs to be ready at any time, doesn’t he?’
Cairn reluctantly walked towards the centre and drew his own sword, a short and obviously cheap weapon. I had the impression that Cairn was not quite so well off as the rest of the people here, and not all that well respected.
‘At least use wooden swords,’ I said. ‘You’re going to bloody kill yourselves like this.’
Lorenzo ignored me. He continued to smile as he kept his gaze fixed on Cairn. ‘You’re not afraid, are you, Cairn? Reassure our guest that your honour matters a lot more to you than a scrape here or there.’
‘Fuck your honour,’ I said. ‘Honour’s for Knights. Use some sense, boy.’
The crowd arrayed themselves in a circle, penning the two men inside.
Cairn looked at me like an animal who has just realised that the door to his cage has been closed behind him. ‘No, no, he’s right. I want to be a Greatcoat. I have to be able to fight.’ He put himself into a rough approximation of a guard position and waited.
Lorenzo signalled to his woman, Etricia, who came over and gave him a wanton kiss on the mouth before smiling wickedly at me. I realised then that this had been a trap, of sorts: Cairn wasn’t well-respected; he wasn’t well-liked, and he had embarrassed Lorenzo by bringing me here. They’d all been safe and sound in their make-believe world of Greatcoats and honour and swordplay, but here I was, the ugly truth of the matter. Cairn probably had a lot more idea about what we Greatcoats were really about than the others, and he probably complained a lot more. Now he was going to get a beating.