Traitor's Blade (The Greatcoats) by de Castell Sebastien

Author:de Castell, Sebastien
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: FIC009000 Fiction / Fantasy / General
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2014-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

15

The Soft Candy

It was morning in Rijou. Although it was still cold, the light felt harsh enough that wherever it struck it seemed to make the stink rise from the gutters along the pavement.

“That was stupid,” Aline said.

I looked down at her for a moment before turning right to head east along the broad street called Pikeman’s Way.

“That was stupid.”

“Which part?”

“All of it,” she said. “But for right now, the stupidest part is that we’re walking away in broad daylight and any of them can see where we’re going.”

“They’re fools and cowards,” I said. “There’s not one of them will come looking for us. We’ll keep to the east and make for the Woodcarvers’ District. There won’t be much happening there during the Blood Week and there are a lot of places to hide.”

“It was still stupid,” she said, ignoring me.

“How many times are you going to say that?”

She stopped and grabbed me by the sleeve of my coat, trying to turn me around. I decided it was time to clarify who was in charge.

“Look—”

Her face was full of tears.

“Why are you—?”

“Because I’m scared! Can’t you see that? Don’t you ever get scared?”

I knelt down, trying to talk to her at eye level, but she was too tall for that, so I got up again and leaned down to her—it was remarkably awkward, and it made what I said next sound even more foolish. “I’m scared all the time, Aline. I’m scared right now. But we’ve got to move on and find a place—”

“You’re not!” Her voice was half shriek and half growl, and it made me take a step backward. It was early enough that there was no one else about, but I was still worried someone living above the nearby shops might take notice.

“You’re not,” she said, more quietly. “No one who was afraid would do something as stupid as you did back there. Those people could have helped us.”

“Those people weren’t—”

She threw her arms up and down in a gesture of frustration and futility. “Those people weren’t Greatcoats, but they could have helped us. They could have given us a place to stay, they might have looked out for us, even just given us money or contacts. Something! Anything!”

“I understand that it’s hard, but you don’t understand everything that’s at play here,” I started, but she interrupted me.

“No, Falcio val Mond of the Greatcoats, it’s you who doesn’t understand. You don’t understand what it is you’re doing.” She spoke with all the assurance of a young girl who still thinks life should play out like a storyteller’s romance.

But I was tired, and aching from more fights in two days than I’d fought in the last year. “I’m trying to keep you alive, damn it!”

“No,” she said, quietly, calmly, “you’re trying to get back at them all—Shiballe, the Duke, that woman who calls herself a Princess: everyone who doesn’t believe in you and your Greatcoats.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “If I was out to hurt them, believe me, I could find lots of ways that would be less work and less dangerous.

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