Page 32 of Crucible of Chaos

There was a rustle nearby: their hidden admirer was getting closer. Estevar resumed their walk, picking up the pace. No need to make it easy for their pursuer.

‘Well?’ he asked when Caeda still hadn’t spoken.

She gazed up at him appraisingly as they walked. ‘You look like shit.’

‘From which you concl—’

She cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘The waves banged you up badly, but those bags under your eyes show you were tired long before you reached this island. The wound I stitched up means you either lost a duel or came close enough to almost die. Thatmightexplain the nervous twitch in your sword hand that you don’t appear to notice. Mother Leogadowillnotice that, however, and the trick you used on Strigan won’t work on her. Before she joined the abbey, she was a proper captain in the ducal army– she led men twice her size into battle and not one of them would speak a bad word about her.’

Ah, but how would you know that?Estevar wondered. The answer came to him quickly.Because Malezias, almost certainly a former soldier himself, served under Captain Leogado and followed her here. He probably bragged to you about his service under so legendary a military commander.

Caeda continued her dissection of Estevar’s ruinous odds. ‘The moment you step inside the Vigilance Tower, you’ll be in the clutches of her Trumpeters. You give a pretty speech about being a Greatcoat and all that, but without your coat and the ability to back up your words with a blade, you’re just a fat man with funny braids in his beard.’

She was testing his vanity now, probing whether it would impede his judgement. Good. Vanity, he had aplenty, but he’d been at this game of secrets and lies too long to fall into such traps. He gestured for her to continue.

She flicked the reins dangling from his hand. ‘You’re right not to take Imperious. If the Trumpeters demand that you lend judicial blessing to their faction, slitting your mule’s neck would be an easy way to show they’re serious without having to risk killing a King’s Magistrate. Instead, they’ll take you prisoner, at which point you’ll be helpless and friendless.’

‘Will I be?’ he asked.

‘What?’

‘Friendless.’

This time, when she glared at him, the hurt and irritation were replaced by a fierce pride. ‘You’ll be helpless, Estevar Valejan Duerisi Borros. You’ll need someone to rescue you– someone who knows all the ways in and out of this abbey.’

‘Someone brave,’ he added.

‘Someonefearless, more like.’

Estevar felt an unfamiliar stirring in his heart. He’d never wanted children, never even contemplated marriage after he’d fled his homeland, leaving the love of his life to the far better man she’d chosen over him. Yet now, seeing the fierceness in Caeda’s grin and the cunning in her eyes, he knew what it was to wish for just such a daughter. Alas, some dreams are best left undreamt. ‘I am all the things you say, Piccolo,’ he conceded. ‘I am injured, tired and no longer sure of my sword arm. The causeway is flooded, the Margrave of Someil either terrified, as he wrote to me, or merely biding his time until the bloodshed begins so that he can step in and take the island for himself.’

‘I’d bet on the latter.’

Estevar risked impropriety to put his hands on her arms. ‘You asked earlier whether I believed the old gods have returned or new ones have taken their place, or if this nation is done with deities. I tell you now, Caeda, I do not care about such things– gods, magic, witches, ghosts, they are all the same to me.’

She shook off his hands. ‘You’re supposed to be the “King’s Crucible”– the Greatcoat who goes around investigating supernatural phenomena!’

‘A crucible is a pot in which ores are melted so that the dross–that which is false–can be separated from the true metal. I investigate these matters not to determine which magic spell was real or which demon a hoax, but to uncover the facts of the case and bring justice to the perpetrators regardless of the means by which the crime was committed.Thatis mydevozia, my devotion.My faith lies not with gods, but in laws written by mortal hands to ensure the dignity of us all.’

‘And what will you do if it turns out the gods don’t much care for your laws? The Trumpeters certainly won’t!’

Estevar felt uneasy– and not solely from having ignited Caeda’s ire. They were standing next to the mound where Venia’s corpse had risen yesterday, and where it might well rise again today. The spy following them was nearer now, but it hardly mattered who among the living or the dead heard Estevar’s next words. ‘There is only me here, Caeda. The rest of the Greatcoats are too few and too far away, and somehow I must bring justice to the murdered Abbot Venia and peace to his abbey.’

‘You’re wrong,’ she said, and before he could argue, reached up to pinch his chin through the rough hair of his braided beard. ‘You have me. I may not be some king-appointed Greatcoat, but I care what happens to this place. You need me, whether you know it or not, my Cantor. When the time comes to sing the verdict, you’ll need a piccolo to pierce through the clamour!’

That brought an unexpected smile to his face. What a wondrous Greatcoat she might have been. ‘Your reasoning is beyond dispute, Lady Caeda. Indeed, logic dictates that I now leave the decision to you.’ He gestured to the imposing watchtower looming over the northwest corner of the abbey grounds. ‘Do you wish to lead the questioning of Mother Leogado? I would be happy to act as your assistant.’

Caeda gave him a shove that despite their difference in size, nearly sent him stumbling onto the mound of earth that served as Venia’s grave. ‘You know perfectly well she won’t see me, you manipulative blowhard. I’ve nothing to offer her, whereas youmightlend legitimacy to her claim over Isola Sombra.’ She turned and tugged Imperious’ reins. ‘There’s a stable on the way back to the village. I’ll wait until Malezias returns from his fishing and have him watch over Imperious. Expect to find me outside the Vigilance Tower at nightfall.’

‘What if I’m otherwise detained?’

Without turning, she swung one arm back and made a rude gesture with two upturned fingers. ‘Then I’ll come and rescue you, you pompous arsehole!’

CHAPTER 20

THE OLD DEBATE

Estevar sat down heavily upon a toppled marble section of what had once been the rather seductive legs of Amoria, Goddess of Love, alone among the ruins save for the grey-robed spy, who must not have been aware that his panting breaths could be clearly heard across the deserted courtyard. The sun was still peeking out over the mainland to the east and Caeda would not return until it had set. Estevar found he wasn’t ready yet to face the faction of militaristic monks calling themselves the Trumpeters.

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