SWNOVELS Fireblade: Chapter 26
I GALLOP PAST THE RANKS of army and Eldrin alike as they re-form into some semblance of order and collect the wounded to carry back to Blackthorn. The shouts of victory are picked up and repeated over and over, until I am riding through a great howl of triumph and vindication.
If only I could share this surge of exultation with them, if only I could steal a few precious moments to revel in the adulation they have for me. Instead I feel nothing but a cold emptiness, a hollow shiver of apprehension about what the end of this day will bring. If only I knew what Marin’s words really meant, if only the wild power I could feel surging through him had not eclipsed the man I thought I knew.
If he has found a way to hang on to the victory this power has given us, without having to pay the price, I wish he could have told me what it was. Fate seems to have a way of demanding payment for advantages taken.
Jantian was right. I will not have much time to make the switch with Alina before the army commanders return, ready to report our victory to the High Council. The gate guards at Blackthorn step back with respectful salutes, allowing me to gallop through. Then I’m off the horse in front of the main entrance, tossing the reins to one of the grooms and running up the flight of stone steps to the door flanked by several more deferential guards.
I am already sprinting down the corridor to the royal apartment when it occurs to me that I should maybe have asked Alina exactly where she intended to hide while she waited for my return.
There is no guard outside the apartment door. I guess there were few enough Eldrin to spare from the battle if the rooms were set to remain officially unoccupied for the duration. I push my way inside, every sense alert and waiting for yet another unexpected and probably unpleasant surprise.
The salon is empty apart from a grubby servant on her knees at the fireplace, cleaning out the hearth. I assume this is the kind of task considered far too dirty for an elegant lady in waiting like Bettany.
I look hastily around. The place is scrupulously tidy and there are orderly piles of clothes set out on the chairs. I turn back to the sooty domestic. The best plan is to play the returning royal warrior and ask her to leave.
Then she scrambles to her feet and looks me up and down disapprovingly.
“By the Five, Sissy! It doesn’t take you long to get in a total mess all over again!”
I stare at the strands of blonde wig straying from under the headscarf, the pale face well-smudged with soot and cinder, and I marvel once again how easily she seems to disguise herself. She has a skill that goes far deeper than simply the cosmetics and clothes she can use to such deceptive effect. It is as if she can mask her whole being with different postures, different mannerisms and voice-tones for each new role. I wave a bloody hand at her new appearance.
“You’re looking almost as grimy as I am this time.”
“Hmph. At least I’m not covered in blood.” She peers at me, frowning. “Is any of it yours?”
“Nothing serious. But you have barely twenty minutes to turn yourself into whatever version of royalty Jantian has ordered for you this time.”
She dips her head to the piles of clothes. “It’s all prepared, over there. Although I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
“Long story. The enemy moved faster than we expected but we won the day. With a lot of outside support. I’m sure you’ll hear dozens of different versions before the night is out.” I walk over to the clothes. “Do you need help with any of this?”
“Just the chainmail.” Alina is already wiping the black smudges from her face and stripping off the dirty servant’s attire, revealing her usual pristine underclothes concealed beneath. I can’t help smiling as I wonder how long she debated the relative merits of an in-depth dirt-disguise against the potential need for an unexpectedly early change-over.
Somehow, being with my sister calms my fears. She will take my place for the next few hours of formalities with the High Council and then quietly disappear to take up her new role as a top-level spy in Corinium. And meanwhile I can also quietly disappear, find Marin, make our escape…
She stares at me, impatient with my hesitation––or maybe my uncalled-for amusement.
“What are you waiting for? Go and get washed while I do my cosmetics!”
I get back to the salon still damp from a hasty scrub to find that my sister has arranged herself in almost all the trappings of her next persona. I help her into the Eldrin mailshirt and step back to admire the effect, from polished riding boots to gold circlet and even twin crysteel blades at her back.
“Perfect. You make a far more convincing warrior-Queen than I do.” I add a smudge of blood diagonally across her forehead and down one side of her face. “Just to make sure you have something in common with the returning generals.”
She peers at the oozing gash on my hand I used as a paintbrush and pulls a strip of bandage from a box on the table.
“You need to get that cut bound up. I guessed you would need something like this when you got back, so I came prepared. And you’ll need to cover your hair if you want to stay inconspicuous for a while.” She passes me her discarded grey headscarf and points to the spare Eldrin cloak draped over the back of a chair.
I bind the cut on my hand and conceal my hair under the generous folds of the scarf.
“Alina, you’re amazing. How do you manage to think of every detail in advance?”
“I had no choice when I was trapped in the Rose Mansion. I had to learn as I went along but I knew that one serious mistake would be my last.” She squeezes my arm. “Even so, I wouldn’t have survived the mistakes I did make, not without you and Marin taking care of me.”
The sudden familiarity and intimacy threatens to break open the shield I have been trying to build around my fears for what the next few hours will hold. Hoping I’m not going to reveal anything I shouldn’t, I risk a question.
“How much has Jantian told you about what will happen when the army commanders get back?”
She frowns. “You mean he hasn’t told you?”
“I haven’t had a chance to talk with him recently. Everything was too rushed and chaotic.”
I hate lying to my sister but I can’t think of another way to find out how much she knows. Or more accurately, what Jantian has withheld from her.
“Oh. Well, he said things can get volatile after a battle. He will be standing next to me and I have to follow his instructions as he responds to any unexpected developments.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.” She looks at me strangely. “You know more about this than I do, don’t you?”
“Not really. Like Jantian said, everything will be tense and unbalanced. All anyone can expect is the unexpected.”
She seems to accept it. “He told me to focus on using my position to maintain control of the crowd, the army, keep everyone calm… and he would give me specific orders if things start to change rapidly.”
“Sounds like being adaptive is the best way.”
If even Jantian feels that this could go out of control, what can anyone do?
The knock at the door jolts through the room like a crack of summer thunder. I hastily throw the dark grey cloak around my shoulders and pull the hood over my head, checking in the mirror that my face is in enough shadow to conceal my features.
Alina instantly straightens her posture and the haughty tilt of her head as she switches from hearth-drudge to imperious Queen.
“Come.”
Deris walks in and steps smartly to the side of the doorway. A formal bow to Alina.
“Your Grace, your presence is requested outside with the High Council, to receive the returning generals and news of the battle.” He waits until she has walked past him before turning briefly to me. “Ariel, just stay out of sight until this is over. Maybe the escape tunnel is the best place.”
I stare at him in silence, dipping my head just enough to make him think I might follow orders so that he can leave.
Like hell I’m going to hide away somewhere else.
I wait until the corridor is empty before slipping out of the apartment and heading for the main entrance. As I get closer I can see that the heavy door has already been wedged open and a crowd is gathering around it, making it easy to slip between the moving bodies to the grass outside.
A quick glance back reveals people jostling and balancing on the broad sweep of steps to find a place at the front, hoping for the best view of the returning generals. The guards are barking orders to ensure that the appropriate traditional hierarchy is maintained as they shove people down onto the lower steps and the expanse of flat grass below.
Dusk has shadowed the estate now. The wide space in front of the house is illuminated by dozens of torches tied to flowering trees in the surrounding gardens. Where the garden design leaves gaps, lances are being hurriedly spiked into the ground and hung with candle-lanterns. I keep my hood up and my head turned away, squeezing past the back row of people as unobtrusively as I can, searching the flickering shadows of torchlight for the first pool of deeper darkness to meld into. There is no way I’m going to hide someplace away from here and simply wait until everything has played out. I doubt that Deris even really expects it of me.
There is no sign of Alina or Jantian. The Elders of the High Council have taken their places on the middle step in front of the door, waiting to formally receive the official news of Samaran’s victory. I’m guessing Jantian has already left orders for the guards to keep the top level empty to receive himself and Alina, to make sure they can readily be seen and heard.
Beyond the boundary wall, the movement of torches signals the return of the advance guard. The lights diffuse and scatter into irregular patterns as the war wounded are carried to the medics in the camp.
Then slowly, it starts. The captains leave their horses outside and walk through the main gate with selected groups of their lieutenants and warriors, forming lines either side of the main avenue from the gate to the house. By the time the generals and loyal dukes arrive to take their places at the head of the line, the wide lawns and all other spaces within the grounds are filled with the elite of Samaran’s battle-scarred military.
A blaze of light appears at the main door as more torches are lit and wedged into the sconces around the entrance. All eyes turn toward the doorway. Alina walks out to stand on the top step and look down on the massed ranks of the Samaran army. She looks radiant, the flickering russet light glittering on her mailshirt and the jewels in her hair, reflecting on the crysteel at her shoulder.
My words didn’t do her justice before. She doesn’t look like a Queen.
She looks like a Goddess.