Several hands went to hilts of swords; a few raised bows or crossbows. Old Tobb still had that ridiculous pistol of his; nobody else could shoot straight with them, but he’d always managed to hit his target. Quillata still had her sling.
They’re the same people they’ve always been. That thought nearly sent me to my knees.
Brasti nocked an arrow to the string of his bow. ‘The problem with the bone plates in our coats is that they don’t cover your face.’
‘Falcio . . .’ Kest said. ‘Our chances aren’t good here.’
‘When are the odds ever in our favour?’ Brasti asked.
‘Compared to right now? Every single time.’
‘Then why haven’t you got your damned shield up?’
‘Because he knows,’ the Magdan said, his voice deep and resonant, as if he’d been born to make words echo across the mountaintops. ‘Kest knows what Falcio’s going to do next, just as I do.’
He walked to a spot halfway between his Greatcoats and us. ‘You know what I always used to wonder about the King?’ he asked me.
I didn’t bother to reply; I knew his question because I’d asked myself the same thing the last time I’d been in this situation.
‘How is it,’ the Magdan began, looking up at the sky as if King Paelis were sitting upon a cloud holding court, ‘that for all our study of the King’s Law, of the workings of the country, of the ways of its people, that the First Cantor was selected by something as crass and unsophisticated as a contest to see who was the best fighter?’
‘That’s simple,’ Brasti replied. ‘The King was drunk the day he had to pick a leader for the Greatcoats and he wanted some amusement.’
The Magdan laughed. ‘You know, I used to think that, too, sometimes.’ His eyes went to me. ‘But that’s not why, is it, Falcio?’
‘You know,’ I said, shaking off the stupor that had been paralysing me until now, ‘as someone known to enjoy a good speech, I hate to interrupt your carefully crafted script. But it’s cold out here, so why don’t you just get on with it.’
The Magdan stripped his fur cloak from his shoulders and tossed it aside. ‘I think the reason the King made us fight was because for all his fine words and lofty ideals, he understood the most basic principle of justice: the only laws that matter are the ones you’ve got the strength to enforce.’ He unstrapped the glaive from his back, its blade glinting in the sunlight. ‘Do you still think you have what it takes to be the First Cantor of the Greatcoats, Falcio?’
I drew my own rapier. Kest put a hand on my shoulder. ‘Falcio, don’t, it’s a—’
‘A trick?’ I looked back at him and smiled just before setting out to meet the Magdan in the snow. ‘Of course it’s a trick, Kest. It’s always been a trick.’
*
I took my time drawing a duelling circle in the snow with the end of one of my scabbards. The Magdan watched, amused by my efforts. ‘So formal, Falcio?’
‘Wouldn’t want you claiming the court was rigged once I’ve kicked your arse,’ I replied. The truth was, I was hoping some of the other Greatcoats would protest, but they didn’t. I glanced at them as I trudged around the space. I’d known almost all of them, but I’d been genuinely close to a few and they didn’t look particularly happy. Quillata looked the most uncomfortable; I remember telling her that I’d told the King that if I ever got killed, she should be his next choice for First Cantor. Yet even she kept silent, which meant they had all known this was coming. The Magdan had told them ahead of time and made them agree not to interfere. Because you are a predictable idiot sometimes, Falcio val Mond.
‘I’m starting to wonder if perhaps you’re just playing for time,’ the Magdan said.
He was right, but I wasn’t just vainly hoping for a last-minute protest from my fellow Greatcoats; I needed to get used to moving in snow. I’ve always relied a great deal on my footwork when fencing, and falling flat on my back in the middle of the fight wouldn’t do. ‘Almost done,’ I said. ‘Have you chosen your second?’
‘I hardly think we need to—’
‘Just do it,’ I said.
He glanced around the other Greatcoats, almost as if he was going to pick someone at random. He wasn’t, though; this sort of thing mattered, which is why I’d forced the issue.
‘Quillata,’ he said.
She was a natural choice: strong, fast, and utterly incapable of giving up a fight when it came to it. Most importantly for the Magdan, it would prove to me whose side she was on.
‘Pick someone else,’ she said.
I smiled. So while they might be committed to his cause, they weren’t necessarily happy with everything he was doing.
Quil must have caught my expression. ‘You’re an idiot, Falcio. He’ll turn the snow red with your blood before this is done.’
‘See? I knew you still cared.’
‘Fine,’ the Magdan said. ‘Ran, you’re my second.’
Ran was also one of the original twelve, but unlike Quillata, he’d sort of hated me from the start. So the Magdan had gone from the bold choice to the safest one. He’s not completely certain of their loyalties and he can’t risk embarrassing himself twice.
I felt a small surge of hope, if only because I was finally thinking clearly again.
‘Choose your own second, Falcio,’ the Magdan asked. He sounded considerably less amused.
I was tempted to ask Quil, if only because it would be funny, but I knew she’d refuse. So would anyone else with a lick of sense in them – if any of them were still on my side, agreeing to be my second would just reveal them to the Magdan. So I did what I always do in these situations. I went to Kest.
‘Hey,’ I said.
‘Hey?’
‘Are you busy right now?’
‘Not especially, why?’
‘Well, I was thinking of kicking the Magdan’s arse all over this mountain, then challenging the rest of those turncoat bastards one by one until they surrender so, you know, I’m going to need a second.’
‘What will you do if you win?’
I glanced over at them. ‘Probably take all their coats from them and start a really big bonfire.’ I turned back to Kest. ‘Unless you think that’s a bad idea?’
‘It’s a terrible idea. So is challenging Morn. Falcio, look at his face. He’s absolutely convinced he can win.’
I wiped the snow off my rapier and drew the second one. I don’t always fight with both since that’s got its disadvantages, but the Magdan had a great big fucking glaive. I’d need all the steel I could get between me and my opponent. I looked back at him. ‘He does look rather confident. Why do you suppose that is?’
‘I don’t know. That’s what worries me.’
I smiled as I turned to go. ‘How bad can it be? I once beat you, remember?’
Kest didn’t have a reply for that one, but as I entered the circle, the Magdan said, ‘You know the one question every Greatcoat used to ask themselves, Falcio?’
‘“How did I ever get tricked into accepting this horrible job?”’
A few of them laughed at that.
‘No,’ he said, bringing his glaive up into a high guard, ‘we all used to wonder how in the world you could possibly have beaten Kest.’
I brought my own blades up into a staggered guard, one blade high, the other low. I started to say, ‘You know, it’s kind of a funny st—’ just as someone else shouted, ‘Begin!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Duellist’s Deception