She nodded. ‘That, and one more thing.’
‘Anything,’ I said.
She let go of my hand. ‘I think I’d like to sleep now, First Cantor.’
Because I knew she’d understand, I said, ‘But just for a little while, right?’
Her eyes closed.
*
I found Quillata and the rest of the double-double-crossing Greatcoats huddled outside. ‘How is she?’ Old Tobb asked, the collar of his greatcoat turned up against the cold. I couldn’t help but notice that he and the others had shed the fur cloaks they’d been wearing in Avares, as if doing so proved their renewed loyalty. I stared at him, becoming more and more convinced that his disposition, intellect, and integrity could only be improved by him being slapped silly for an hour or so. The only reason I stayed my hand was that I realised I’d been wanting to do that a lot lately.
‘Chalmers is a Greatcoat,’ I said. ‘She doesn’t break just because a few piss-drinking barbarians shake their clubs at her.’
The others glared at me, a flash of anger at what they – quite rightly – suspected was a slight at their own constancy. The King used to say the true strength of the Greatcoats was in our judgement – that our ability to render the right verdict was what made us worthy of the coats. I’d asked him once what our greatest weakness was and he’d not even paused to think before replying, ‘Your damned pride. You’re all so brave, so daring, so skilled at fighting, it’s a miracle you don’t all beat each other senseless on a daily basis just to prove who’s tougher.’
‘We thought we were saving the country,’ Jakin, the King’s Stone, said, strands of dark hair falling across his face as he bowed his head mournfully. He was the same age as Kest, Brasti and me but he’d always struck me as much younger, somehow – idealistic in a way that comes and goes so easily when you’re a teenager.
‘Then you thought wrong,’ Kest said tersely. He’d recruited Jakin to the Greatcoats in the first place; that explained the unusual edge to his voice – and Jakin’s stricken look.
Quil stepped forward, shielding the others from my ire. ‘We’re not going to drop down to our knees and beg forgiveness, if that’s what you’re waiting for, Falcio. The country was rotting from the inside – everyone but you three could see that! It was so obvious the King’s plan – whatever it was – had failed.’
Murielle de Vierre, the King’s Thorn, came a little closer; with her long red curls and high cheekbones she looked far too exotic for such drab surroundings. We all assumed the King had named her his ‘thorn’ ironically, because her remarkable and delicate beauty made ‘the Rose’ far more appropriate. ‘Morn promised us, First Cantor,’ she said dramatically. ‘He gave oaths to us—’
‘What did he promise?’ I hadn’t stopped wondering what he could possibly have said to turn more than forty Greatcoats away from everything they once believed in.
‘That if we stood by him there would be no war,’ she explained. ‘That once the Dukes seceded, the country wouldn’t be able to field an army, so no one would have to die.’
‘So instead we could all live as slaves?’ Brasti asked.
Murielle shook her head, wanting us to understand. ‘No, he really did have a plan! Morn would show the horde that he was able to win the country with just a few warbands and once they’d made him the Magdan of all Avares, he’d be able to convince them to allow Tristia to remain unconquered – a kind of . . . well, a client state.’
‘And how exactly did he manage to convince you of that rubbish?’
She looked ashamed, and I felt a little bad for it. On the night King Paelis had named Murielle to the Greatcoats she’d surprised me by asking me to come into town to celebrate with her. I’d refused, giving the excuse that I had to leave on a judicial circuit early the following morning. If not for that moment of cowardice, it might have been the start of something between us. Now I looked at her, at all these men and women who had once been more than a family to me. I’d tried so hard to prove myself worthy of the rank of First Cantor – worthy of them. ‘How could you all have betrayed the King this way?’ Of course, what I really meant was something far more petty, How could you all have betrayed me?
‘Morn’s plan made sense,’ Quil answered defensively. ‘Far more than the King’s dream ever did, that’s for certain.’ She kicked at the snow. ‘Damn it, Falcio, you knew Paelis best. How were all those stupid little missions he gave us supposed to save Tristia from itself?’
I’d asked myself that same question countless times and I had yet to come up with an answer that made sense. One hundred and forty-four Greatcoats, each sent off with one final enigmatic order. Would Paelis still have given those commands if he’d known the price they would extract from us?
Parrick Morran, the King’s Calm, forced to save the life of Duke Jillard – a man the King himself despised.
Nile Padgeman, the King’s Arm, sacrificed himself in a hopeless effort to protect Duke Roset in Luth. Harden Vitale, the King’s Whisper, died trying to protect Saint Gan-who-laughs-with-dice.
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted.
Kest caught my eye, his expression warning me against showing uncertainty in front of the others. Kest Murrowson, the King’s Blade, forced to promise that he’d kill his best friend before allowing him to become a tyrant.
‘Perhaps the King believed there was no other way,’ Kest said. ‘Perhaps before we could restore the rule of law, we needed to first prove to people that the laws meant something – that the Greatcoats would do whatever it took to uphold them, even at the cost of losing everything we’d ever fought for.’
Falcio val Mond, ordered to find and protect the one girl who could have fulfilled the King’s vision for the country – only to watch her die on the cold stone floor of a broken castle.
The others were watching me. ‘I don’t know,’ I repeated dully. Who was I to blame Quil and Tobb and all the rest for being seduced by Morn’s promises of easing Tristia’s suffering? What magistrate wouldn’t wonder what a nation might be like if it were ruled by a judiciary instead of feckless nobles? If I hadn’t had Kest and Brasti with me these past years, if Valiana hadn’t come into my life, had Aline not shown herself to be so remarkable, might not I have lost hope as well?
Murielle took my hand. ‘We were wrong, Falcio. Morn made his scheme sound so logical, so brilliant both in conception and execution.’ Her gaze went to the field down below. ‘It wasn’t until we got here that we realised how far he was willing to go, how . . . personal this is for him.’
‘He hates me that much?’