Angel's Deceit (Angelwar Book 2) Read online

  ‘No.’

  ‘It seems like a lot depends on how good your information is on these lords,’ he said slowly. ‘Tell me again how you came by it.’

  Tol didn’t answer immediately; he’d left that detail out on purpose.

  Kartane merely nodded wearily, as though he’d suspected the truth all along. ‘She’s here, isn’t she? Your prickly little friend from the south?’

  ‘She just made the introduction to her contact,’ Tol protested, cut off quickly by a sharp gesture from Kartane.

  ‘You can’t trust her, boy, you know better than that.’ He sounded almost disappointed, as though Tol had betrayed their friendship. Which, as far as Tol knew, didn’t really exist.

  ‘You’ve read the Truth,’ Tol said. ‘You know where her people stand.’

  ‘Even so, Sudalra looks after its own first; they ain’t like the Reve. Maybe she hasn’t betrayed you yet, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t going to happen. Deep down you know that, don’t you?’

  Tol exhaled slowly. Yes, he reluctantly admitted to himself. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Kartane that though, he couldn’t admit it out loud. ‘She saved my life.’

  Kartane waved it away like an errant smoke ring. ‘I said my piece on her, let’s leave it at that. The important thing is this: is the information good?’

  ‘Yes. It came from a lord,’ Tol said, wincing as Kartane sighed but carrying on quickly, ‘one in her family’s service and bound closely to them. I do not believe he would have lied.’

  ‘But he might have made a mistake, yes? Been misled by his own people?’

  Tol grimaced; the same thought had already occurred to him. ‘Yes.’

  Kartane leaned back. ‘So what’s your plan if this little excursion of yours don’t fix a thing?’

  Tol opened his mouth, a lie already on his lips. Lying had become almost second nature in his time at Icepeak. Little lies, mostly: denying his part in mischief, concocting stories about what had delayed him in Findhel. Now, though, he was beginning to realise that lies would not serve him, not here and now with a knight who could see through him like his own mother. Only Kartane had a lot less patience, and was far more prone to violence.

  ‘It’s the only lead I have,’ Tol admitted.

  Kartane continued staring at him, and Tol realised he was expecting more. ‘If they’re not the ones delaying the army then there probably isn’t time to get to the real conspirators – not if the army’s to reach the Spur before the battle’s already lost.’ Tol slapped the table in frustration. ‘I don’t think I can do this alone.’

  Kartane grinned. ‘About time you grew some sense.’ He pushed his empty tankard back into the centre of the table. ‘Now get me some more thinking juice and we’ll see if we can’t save the world. Again.’

  19.

  Tol was only on his second mug of ale, and already feeling half-drunk. Kartane, despite being two mugs ahead, seemed to have reacquired a deep and abiding love of strong ale and was just hitting his stride. He raised his mug to Tol and took a big slurp of foam off the top.

  ‘Seems quite handy, you being the angel’s errand boy,’ he said, ‘’cause about now seems like a really good time to get a bit of help from up high.’

  Tol grimaced. ‘I’ve tried.’

  ‘And what? You two had a fallin’ out? You try and fondle her?’

  Tol laughed, but his humour was short-lived. ‘She said I have to do this alone.’ He took a swig of ale. ‘I think she’s ignoring me.’

  He had to wait for half a minute as Kartane collapsed in laughter.

  ‘Finished?’ Tol snapped.

  Kartane eyed him darkly, but let the retort pass. He composed himself, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘The Sudalrese,’ Kartane said, ‘they’re different to the likes of you and I, but not so different we can’t understand what drives them. Angels, though? Who knows what’s important to ’em and what’s not? The thing of it is, lad, we need her. When the armies meet she might be the only thing that can stand against the demons, so you’ve got to keep on her good side. It isn’t just about you anymore, Tol.’ He reached over the table and clapped Tol on the shoulder. ‘You didn’t realise, did you? She ain’t just your angel, boy. The whole world needs her.’

  ‘I haven’t exactly had much time to think,’ Tol muttered.

  ‘I warned you, didn’t I,’ Kartane said with a jabbing finger, ‘always find time to think. A minute’s thought can save a life – maybe more than just yours.’ His expression softened as Tol suffered the rebuke, anger and self-disappointment slithering silently over his face. ‘We all done it, Tol. Best to learn the lesson young, before it’s too late.’

  Tol nodded and picked up his mug, trying to hammer the anger down. He sipped the dark liquid and considered his options, Kartane absorbing himself with his own dwindling drink.

  After a moment, Tol looked up. ‘One of the estates was easier than the one you found me at,’ he said, ‘but the third, that’s so heavily guarded I couldn’t do it alone.’ He sighed and placed his palms on the table. ‘It’s time to go to the Reve.’

  ‘Not without proof,’ Kartane replied with a slight shake of his head.

  Tol frowned. The Kartane he had known in Norve had never been this restrained, this sensible; that Kartane had enlisted Tol’s help in breaking into Duke Tirian’s fortress in Karnvost, the pair of them scaling a wall and shinning up a tree without anything resembling a plan. Tol’s eyes narrowed, and he watched his companion carefully. Something else is going on here. Kartane’s face was blank, unreadable, and though that might be due to the four mugs of ale, his eyes never quite met Tol’s own.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked quietly.

  Kartane gripped his mug as if afraid it might take flight at any moment. ‘The Seven are uneasy,’ he finally said.

  ‘Uneasy? About me?’

  He nodded once.

  ‘What? I bl—’

  A hard kick stopped Tol, his words ending in a gasp of pain.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Kartane hissed. ‘I thought you’d already learned this lesson.’

  Tol glared across the table, following Kartane’s glance to the table top and noticing his own hands had curled into fists. Tol exhaled through his teeth, and slowly uncurled his fingers.

  ‘Better,’ said Kartane. ‘You ready to listen now?’

  Tol nodded, unwilling to trust himself to speak. Talking to me like I’m a child now? He was beginning to understand why so many people had tried to kill Kartane over the years. If he was like this with everyone he met, it was a wonder there was anyone left in Norve.

  When Kartane seemed satisfied that Tol had calmed enough he continued, ‘You did the Reve a favour in Norve – a big favour – nobody’s denying that, lad. But then that angel went and named you her knight, that’s what’s got the Seven concerned.’

  ‘That’s not—’ Tol lowered his voice as Kartane glared. ‘My fault,’ he finished.

  ‘Maybe not,’ Kartane allowed, ‘but it don’t change things either. She named you as her champion, and the Seven got all sorts of unpleasant thoughts bouncing around their skulls now. Is she trying to replace them with you, they’re wondering, or maybe trying to place you as their leader? And they’re hurt, Tol. Imagine you spent your life serving the Reve and one day the angels return. Only she don’t come to you, who’s served ’em faithfully. No, she appears to some sullen boy who ain’t even a knight, and the pair of them go on a nice little adventure. And to top it off, she declares her new friend as her champion, her voice on our world. You see how that might unsettle them, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s not like that!’

  ‘No?’

  Tol’s head drooped. ‘I thought at first she just did it to thank me for helping her – making me her knight, I mean. Then she came back, and told me what was going on here and said I had to fix it...’ Tol’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘She nearly killed me, you know. I saved her when she was ready to die, and she nearly killed me for it.’
He barked a short laugh. ‘Maybe naming me her knight is punishment for that, but I don’t think so.’ Tol raised his head and stared right at Kartane, the old knight actually leaning back away from the table. ‘I think she just didn’t realise what effect her actions would have. She sent me here, but doesn’t seem to have any idea what Meracia is like, how difficult it is to get to the truth when lords lie as often as they breathe. She doesn’t know much about our world at all; I don’t think it ever occurred to her that the Seven might take offence at what she did.’

  ‘Angels ain’t like us, Tol. Who knows what goes on in their heads? Maybe she’s been deceiving you all along.’

  Tol leaned forward, a perverse smile creasing his lips. ‘She didn’t even know the Seven existed,’ he said. ‘She didn’t know about the Angel’s Compact.’

  Kartane jerked in his seat as if slapped. ‘How…’ His mouth flapped uselessly for several seconds. ‘Didn’t know...’ he muttered. ‘How did the angel find you? Why did she come if not to honour the agreement?’

  ‘To find out how I knew her name. That was the only reason she came.’

  ‘Maybe Galandor knew that would bring her here.’ Kartane sounded more hopeful than certain.

  ‘Maybe.’

  Kartane thought for a moment. ‘You convinced her to help you?’ Tol nodded, and the knight looked impressed though he Tol knew he’d never say so. ‘It makes sense now,’ he continued. ‘The Seven are fretting for no reason, seeing plots where there are none.’ Kartane grinned. ‘How Meracian of them.’

  ‘So we just tell them the truth: that Kalashadria meant no offence; she just didn’t understand how they’d react.’

  Kartane grabbed him. ‘Don’t use her name,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘It’s recorded only in the book for a reason.’

  Tol muttered an apology, feeling slightly guilty for the accidental slip.

  ‘Just remember next time,’ Kartane said as he released Tol’s arm. He reached for his ale, but the mug was already dry and the knight scowled into it. ‘We can’t tell the Seven.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Think about it: the Seven are marching to war, safe in the knowledge that when needed one of the angels will come. Telling them that Galandor didn’t pass on that instruction, well, nothing good’s going to come from telling them that.’

  Now you know what it feels like, Tol thought, to keep secrets that eat away at you and burn you up inside. He stood up as Kartane stared forlornly into his mug, seized by pity for the broken knight. Kartane had already read Angel’s Truth long before the two of them had met. He had lived with the truth about the Maker and his angels for years, and now Tol had added to that burden, laying another secret on a man who already looked three-quarters broken and half mad. Tol clapped him on the shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture and made another trip to the bar.

  Some of the colour came back to Kartane’s face when Tol returned with another mug of ale, and he even grunted something which might have been “thank you”. Tol took it as a sure sign the knight was rattled.

  ‘I got questions,’ he announced abruptly.

  Tol laughed. ‘So have I, and for every one answered I end up with three more.’

  ‘You called it the “Angel’s Compact”,’ Kartane said, ‘but even though the Truth mentions Galandor’s promise, the Reve didn’t start to call it that until after Valeron’s death.’

  ‘I heard it at Icepeak,’ Tol said with a shrug, ‘not long before the New Year. Once I read the book I figured out that it meant Galandor’s promise to come when needed.’

  ‘I’m guessing you weren’t supposed to be listening?’

  Tol tried to suppress a grin but failed. ‘Not my fault if sound travels through keyholes.’

  Kartane didn’t smile. ‘Who else knows what you just told me about the angel?’

  ‘No one.’

  ‘Not even your southern friend?’

  Tol crossed his arms. ‘Just me and you.’

  ‘Best keep it that way.’ Kartane made a start on his ale, brushing the foam away with his sleeve. ‘You can’t go to the Reve without proof,’ he said. ‘If you can prove those lords are scheming against them then the Reve will stand by you. There ain’t many left – most have already left for the Spur – but even three or four knights would make a difference storming one of those manors.’

  ‘So I can’t go to them because the Seven think I’m trying to replace them, and I can’t explain why that’s not true because they’ll throw a fit. You’re just full of great advice, aren’t you?’

  Tol hadn’t realised he was half out of his seat or that his finger was jabbing the air in front of Kartane until the knight’s left hand shot out, grabbing the offending finger and bending it back while his free hand snatched Tol’s shirt and dragged him down so they were nose to nose.

  ‘You tell ’em the truth now and it might just break the Seven,’ he growled. ‘Very least, it could turn them away from the angels, make them spurn ’em and decide they can do it alone.’ He lowered his voice. ‘And what do you think will happen on the Spur when the demons come again and this time there’s no angel to stop them? You gonna stand in their way? Think you can survive a second time, do you?’ He released his hold on Tol, and shoved him away.

  Tol dropped back to his seat. ‘No.’ He flexed his finger experimentally; not broken. ‘I can’t do it alone,’ he said quietly.

  Kartane sighed heavily. ‘Pitspawn, boy, I know it ain’t fair, but you can only play the cards you’re dealt.’ He took another slurp of ale, some of the anger fading from his face. ‘Whatever that angel of yours did or didn’t know, she named you her knight, which means you aren’t completely useless.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Unless she’s an idiot.’

  ‘She’s not an—’ Tol broke off as Kartane’s face creased with laughter. ‘Very funny.’

  Kartane sketched a mock bow. ‘So, between us we’re worth about twelve knights. That ought to even the odds tonight.’

  ‘You’ll help?’

  ‘Didn’t I just say that?’

  Kartane was a pain in the arse, there was no denying it. Still, better he’s with me than against me. That didn’t bear thinking about. The years in Westreach hadn’t softened him, and Tol wouldn’t be surprised if Kartane’s stint in the iron mines had only made him meaner and madder. Not a comforting thought at all.

  The pair made plans to meet in the evening, and Tol rose to leave before Kartane finished another mug of ale and expected him to refill it.

  ‘And don’t go telling your Sudalrese lover about this,’ Kartane warned.

  ‘She’s not my lover,’ Tol said, his cheeks colouring.

  ‘No? Maybe she just ain’t decided what she wants yet. Better hope it’s not you,’ Kartane said, ‘’cause you’d be the woman in that relationship.’

  Kartane was still cackling as the tavern door swung shut behind Tol.

  20.

  Katarina returned to the Ninety Third Passage late in the afternoon and found the bar room all but empty, a brief lull before the evening trade began. Ignoring the girl behind the counter, she strode up to the proprietor.

  ‘Mistress Estella, would you be kind enough to brew a couple of mugs of cocoa for me?’

  The thin-faced woman looked more sour than usual. She jerked her head towards the bar. ‘Elaine can do that.’

  ‘I know, but nobody makes cocoa quite as nice as yours,’ Katarina said, forcing a smile. ‘You’re such a dear. I’ll be over in the corner.’ She walked away quickly, not giving the woman a chance to refuse, and worked her way between the tables to the back wall. Perhaps I should just get Stetch to drag her over, she thought. Except, Stetch hadn’t returned yet. Probably stopping at every tavern along the way.

  A few minutes later the thin-faced proprietor returned and slammed two clay mugs of steaming cocoa on the table in front of Katarina.

  ‘You look tired, Mistress Estella,’ she said. ‘Join me for a moment.’
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br />   The innkeeper looked from Katarina to the second mug and back again, a sour expression forming on her already sullen face. ‘I know who you are,’ she said, ‘and whatever you want I’m not of a mind to help you. The homeland’s taken enough from my family already.’

  Katarina stared at her until the woman relented, her mouth twitching in a grimace as she flopped down in the vacant seat, her reddened, cracked fingers seeking the mug’s warmth. She met Katarina’s gaze with a steady stare of her own but held her silence.

  Katarina waited. Finally, after long seconds, Estella stirred. ‘Well? You want me to say “no” now, or do you want to pretend I’m going to listen?’

  ‘What was his name?’ Katarina asked quietly. When Estella didn’t answer, she added, ‘Your husband?’

  ‘Teren,’ the innkeeper said. ‘Teren cal Korren.’

  Katarina closed her eyes. ‘Six,’ she said after a moment. The innkeeper looked confused, so she added, ‘Six names he accounted for before his name was entered in the ledger.’

  ‘You checked,’ Estella said, an accusatory finger rising. ‘You planned this all along, thinking I’ll fall for your tricks – it won’t work!’

  Katarina ignored the outburst, and fixed Estella with a level gaze that she thought Stetch might not have called feeble. When the woman quieted, Katarina looked down to her cocoa, fingers entwining themselves around the mug and leeching its warmth. ‘They sacrifice everything for the homeland while my family sends them into danger again and again.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I have watched them leave and return since I was a child, seen them come back whole, seen them come back maimed, and seen many more leave yet never return. For generations my family has sent these men to do the work that others will not – cannot – do.’ She raised her head. ‘I have memorised every name entered into the ledger since my thirteenth birthday. Not because it would one day be useful, but because I had to do something and remembering the names of the lost was all a thirteen year old girl could do.’

  ‘Sudalra took everything from me,’ the innkeeper said quietly. ‘It shall have no more.’ ‘