Page 111 of Play of Shadows

‘You’re remembering it wrong, Grandfather. You always remember things wrong.’

‘All these years you’ve been telling yourself– and anyone else who would listen– what a coward you are, how feeble, how pathetic with a blade. And why not? As long as Damelas Chademantaigne is a proper coward, no one will ever expect him to become a Greatcoat like his grandmother. No one will ever expect him to fight duels. No one will ever expect him tohurtpeople.’

‘No one will expect him to protect the ones he loves,’ I heard myself say aloud, my voice so thick with Corbier’s guttural disdain it shocked me. ‘Forgive me, Grandfather. I didn’t mean t—’

‘Is this the great Archduke Corbier? The Red-Eyed Raven cometo take credit for deeds not his own?’ His eyes pierced through mine.

‘I saved your craven grandson’s life, you old fool– I lent him the skill and nerve he lacked. I gave him—’

Paedar reached through the bars and smacked me across the forehead. ‘Oh, do shut up, you preening crow.’

With an effort of will, I forced back the Archduke’s ire. ‘Grandfather, please don’t antagonise him.’

He laughed. ‘Or what? You think some ancient spirit will overtake you, make you reach through those bars and throttle me?’

‘He almost made me kill once before. And besides, he’s right. Corbier’s saved my life a dozen times now. The Vixen, the Iron Orchids who burned the Belleza– any one of them would’ve killed me but for Corbier—’

The old man spat on the floor. ‘That for your great archduke.’ He spat again. ‘And that for Prince Pierzi– for all of them. Just like noblemen to believe that even in death they can take credit for the achievements of others!’

‘Grandfather, honestly, you didn’t see the way I fought. I actually beat the gods-damned Vixen in a duel!’

He shrugged as if the feat were insignificant. ‘So what? Your grandmother had you fencing from the age of six. She taught you her tricks– the disarms, the distractions– and you were always clever, and quick, too. I imagine you’ve kept up with your rapier work?’

‘Well. . . a little,’ I admitted, thinking back to the countless practice bouts with Beretto. ‘But to face the Vix—’

He waved the objection away. ‘Oh, I’ve no doubt the Red-Eyed Raven was as devilish a master with the blade as the history books claim, and no doubt his memories helped here and there, but my boy’– the old man slid the key into the lock on the iron door– ‘I think the only thing Corbier really gave you was anexcuse.’

‘An excuse?’

‘He let you believe that perhaps it was someone else holding that sword– someone else doing the lunging and thrusting.Someone else hurting people.’

What morbid sentimentality, Corbier said silently.An old man’s dream of finding his dead wife’s daring in the eyes of his grandson.

Is he wrong, then? Was it your bloodlust I felt, or was it me all along?

But the Red-Eyed Raven gave no answer.

The lock gave up with a clank and he pulled open the door. ‘Let’s get out of here, boy. This place is making me nostalgic for the old days.’

I picked up my filthy shirt from the floor and gingerly pulled it over my battered torso. ‘What happens now?’

‘Now? We leave the city. I know a smuggler or two who owe me favours. They’ll sneak us out in a caravan before anyone’s the wiser.’ He smirked. ‘Think of it, boy, you and me, on the road, breaking hearts and kicking arses.’

I looked past my grandfather’s cavalier good looks, undiminished by wrinkles or the age spots on his leathery skin, to the mischief in his upturned mouth and twinkling eyes. Even now, well into his seventh decade, the King’s Courtesy could fool just about anyone.

But not his grandson.

I started laughing.

‘One night in a cell and already you’ve turned into a raving lunatic?’

‘Grandfather, did you really expect me to believe that you came all the way here, fed me all that nonsense about how I was never really a coward, just so incomparably noble that I didn’t want to hurt anyone– all so that you and I would then abandon the citythat you and Grandmother fought so long and hard to protect?’

He looked more serious than I had ever seen him. ‘That was different. When you’re ready to take up the fight– really and truly ready to give it your all– you must know deep inside what it is you’re fighting for.’

‘What did you and Grandmother fight for?’

‘Virany fought for the truth.’ He reached up and took the torch from the holder in the wall and handed it to me. ‘A worthy enough reason, I suppose. But me? I only ever fight for love.’ With his cane clacking on the stones, the old man started down the passageway. He paused then, waiting for me to catch up. ‘Maybe it’s time someone in this family found a way to fight for both.’

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