Angel's Deceit (Angelwar Book 2) Read online

  When Tol finally finished he found all three watching him carefully, the two women glancing at the family patriarch. ‘So,’ the duke said cordially, ‘you kept that old diary – the one that half of the Gurdal spies in the world have been seeking – and, in your infinite wisdom, decided it might be nice to bring it to my home. Tell me, Tol Kraven, are you tired of life?’

  Tol eyed the knife on his plate carefully. There was a whole collection of unsullied silverware next to it, and he idly wondered whether he could kill all three of them if it came to it. A fast glance showed all three of them watching carefully. Tol lowered his gaze, noticing that while his plate had a further two unused knives beside, those of Katarina, the duke and the duchess had only a single knife each. Tol laughed, pulling his hand away from the plate before temptation overwhelmed him. My kind of people. And they were: the kind of people who prepared for mealtime murder, and used whatever tool was at hand.

  ‘You find this amusing?’ The cold look in his eyes silenced Tol’s laughter.

  ‘A little, yes.’ Tol leaned back in his chair. ‘I would have warned your daughter,’ he said with a shrug, ‘but her talkative friend knocked me out and left me bound and gagged in the hold. Kind of hard to talk under those circumstances.’

  ‘You inability to communicate does not excuse your foolhardy actions.’ The duke leaned forward. ‘Your winged friend won’t reach you in time, if that is what you are thinking.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think she’ll come looking for me for a while yet,’ Tol said. ‘And we both know that this little fortress of yours was designed to keep out a very specific type of adversary, don’t we?’ The duke remained silent and Tol continued, ‘You’re not going to kill me, though, not now.’

  The duke raised an eyebrow. ‘No?’

  ‘No. Katarina made sure nobody but the sailors saw me arrive. The guards chasing me in Kron Vulder are all shark food by now. So nobody knows I’m here, which means that whatever spies the demons had searching for me have lost my trail.’ Tol glanced at Katarina, but her face had remained unreadable throughout the meal, and aside from a snatched glance when Tol had mentioned the manor’s defences, she still refused to meet his eyes. She looked almost contrite. Almost.

  ‘I’m not the one you’re angry with, am I?’

  The duke sighed quietly, his eyes briefly darting towards his daughter. ‘It was a risk, bringing him here.’

  Katarina turned to her father. ‘A bigger risk not to,’ she snapped.

  The duke’s face hardened, and Tol saw a glimmer of anger slipping through his carefully composed mask. ‘I am not saying you were wrong, child, I am saying you did not think; how you arrive at a decision can be just as important as the decision itself.’

  ‘Yes, Father,’ Katarina said. She slipped into her native Sudalrese. ‘I am sorry.’

  The duchess tsk-ed. ‘Use the boy’s own language,’ she admonished. ‘The northern folk are not known for their linguistic abilities.’

  ‘They are known for having whores as mothers,’ the duke added.

  Tol’s fingers curled into fists, the knives in front of him more than a little tempting. He realised his mistake as the duke offered a faint smile, gesturing at Tol’s whitened knuckles.

  ‘Works every time,’ he said simply, not even a hint of pride in his voice. The duke sounded almost disappointed.

  Tol uncurled his fingers, ruing his mistake. The duke had spoken so casually that Tol was already furious before he realised the duke had switched to his native Sudalrese.

  ‘The monks of Icepeak give a very thorough education, so I’m led to believe,’ the duke said. ‘I would expect you learned a second language; Father Michael was a great believer in a proper education.’

  ‘You knew him?’

  ‘Not personally. Did you learn any Meracian at all?’

  ‘Some,’ Tol admitted.

  ‘And anything at all about their culture?’

  Tol shook his head. ‘Didn’t really pay attention to that part.’

  ‘Ah, well.’ The duke smiled. ‘I suppose if I am to send you over there, it might help if you had someone there to help navigate the intricate layers of etiquette and conduct.’ The duke glanced at his daughter. ‘It just so happens that there is a small matter in Meracia that could use some familial intervention.’

  Katarina looked up, her face hopeful despite the scowl that hadn’t quite faded. ‘You’re sending me to Meracia?’

  The duke didn’t answer, instead rising from the table and rounding it, looming over Tol like an executioner. A strong hand alighted on Tol’s shoulder, fingers clawing into his flesh. ‘If any harm befalls my daughter,’ the duke said in an even voice, ‘I will murder your entire family and then deliver your head to that winged creature of yours.’ The fingers uncurled and the duke slapped Tol on the back. ‘Friendly warning,’ he said, marching briskly out of the dining room.

  Tol rubbed his shoulder as Katarina’s mother stood and made to follow her husband. ‘That’s a friendly warning?’

  ‘Positively cordial,’ the duchess said, favouring Tol with a breezy smile. ‘I’m sure you two have some catching up to do. Good night, young man.’

  Katarina sank back in her chair, and heaved a massive sigh of relief as her mother departed. ‘Really?’ she snapped. ‘You had to point out it was me with whom Father should be angry?’

  ‘He was less likely to kill you than me,’ Tol retorted. ‘Besides, three days bound and gagged left me a little cranky.’

  ‘I didn’t know Stetch gagged you, you stupid man. That one’s not my fault.’

  Tol shook his head, the ghost of a smile tracing his lips. ‘Your whole family’s mad, you know that, right?’

  ‘They’re lovely once you get to know them.’

  ‘And do many people live that long?’

  ‘Was the big, sturdy knight frightened?’ Katarina mocked. She raised her hands to her cheeks, mouth opening in a caricature of surprise. ‘Oh, save me from all this fancy cutlery!’

  Tol couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I didn’t look anything like that,’ he protested. ‘And I certainly don’t sound like that either.’

  Katarina shook her head, still laughing. ‘Oh, it wasn’t as bad as you are making out,’ she said. ‘All things considered, you could have made a much worse first impression.’

  Has this happened before? Tol wondered. Had Katarina brought other men home from her travels? And if so, he wondered, what in the Pit happened to them?

  ‘Besides,’ Katarina continued, ‘Daddy wouldn’t have killed you, he just likes to see how people react.’

  ‘You’d have stopped him?’

  Katarina clicked her tongue. ‘No, silly. It’s frightfully rude to murder a dinner guest; so very impolite.’

  Somehow that wasn’t very reassuring. Impolite was not the same as “never ever done”, and Tol suspected the duke only bowed to the niceties of courtly behaviour when it suited his needs.

  3.

  Tol woke as something brushed his shoulder. The dagger came free from under his pillow as his eyes opened, the blade curving in an upward arc across his prone body. He pulled the strike short at the last moment as the flickering image resolved itself. For a moment Tol thought it was a dream, the figure before him so unexpected that what other reason could there be? He lowered the dagger, still unsure, and let his left hand wander towards the woman’s filmy nightdress. She slapped it away, the sudden sting convincing Tol that he wasn’t dreaming.

  What’s going on? he wondered, trying to understand why Katarina had come to his chamber, and why she was clothed in a semi-transparent nightdress of white cotton. The outline of her figure, translucent cloth hugging each curve, made any thought difficult, and the two dark eyes peering from her bosom set Tol’s pulse racing.

  ‘I could have killed you,’ he said, his tongue thick and sluggish.

  ‘Hardly,’ Katarina scoffed. She raised the lantern in her right hand, pushing it between them as a buffer. The brightness made Tol wince, an
d Katarina’s curves disappeared into a hazy background.

  ‘You did kill the pillow,’ she said. ‘Congratulations.’

  The familiar sarcasm brought Tol back to his senses as he glanced at the split pillow. ‘You can’t be here,’ he said. ‘Your father will kill me.’

  She smiled. ‘Only if you shout.’

  Tol propped himself up onto his elbows. Is this really happening? His face must have betrayed his thoughts because Katarina’s smile vanished in a heartbeat, her expression neutral.

  ‘I should thank you,’ she said.

  Tol grinned and pulled back the corner of the sheet. ‘Climb on in then.’

  ‘I think not.’

  He sighed. Somehow, he knew, this wasn’t going to turn out how he was hoping. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘why should you thank me?’

  ‘Because now I know what my father keeps locked in his study. The book,’ Katarina added when understanding didn’t dawn on Tol’s face promptly enough. ‘I have known for years that there is something in his study that he prizes above everything else, but tonight is the first time I heard it mentioned. My mother let it slip: another book written at the same time as the journal you carry.’

  Tol nodded. ‘Your ancestor fought beside the Seven. He stood with them against the demon, and after their victory he heard the angel’s story.’

  A broad grin flashed across Katarina’s face. ‘And we’re going to read it.’

  Tol groaned. ‘You’re as mad as your parents; if we’re caught, I’ll be killed and you’ll probably be sent to a convent.’

  ‘I need to know what’s in that book,’ Katarina said firmly. ‘I have to know.’

  ‘This is insane. There’s guards patrolling, and who knows what traps in place… we’ll be caught for sure.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it will be fine. I’ll sneak into my parents’ rooms and liberate the key, then we will sneak through the halls to my father’s study—’

  ‘Not a chance!’

  ‘The alternative,’ she said coolly, ‘is that I scream and we see whether my father is angry enough to kill you before he realises we are in your room rather than my own.’ Katarina placed the lantern down on the nightstand and folded her arms. Tol tried not to stare at her bulging bosom. He failed, but didn’t feel too bad about it, all things considered.

  ‘I hate secrets,’ Katarina confessed quietly, ‘and a secret that everyone knows except me is the worst kind of all. I need to know.’

  Tol chuckled quietly, but held up a hand as her face clouded over. ‘I’m sorry,’ he managed to say, ‘but it is kind of funny: a spy who doesn’t like secrets?’

  ‘I am sorely tempted to scream now.’

  Tol stopped laughing. ‘Your ancestor’s book can’t be that different from Valeron’s journal: they saw and heard the same things. If I told you what they learned, would that satisfy your curiosity?’

  Katarina pouted, and seemed to consider it. ‘It’s a start, I suppose.’

  The pout faded a little too quickly, and Tol found himself wondering whether this had been her intention all along.

  ‘Do I not deserve to know what I risked my life for?’ Katarina asked, stepping close to the bed. ‘I did save your life – several times, as I recall.’

  Tol nodded. One way or another he wouldn’t get any peace until Katarina got what she wanted.

  Katarina perched on the edge of the bed, her side close to Tol as the nightshirt rode up – it didn’t have far to go, in truth – almost to the top of her thighs. ‘Tell me a story,’ she whispered huskily as she seated herself next to Tol, looking down on him as one leg remained grounded, while the left crested the mattress, bronzed skin an inch away from Tol’s torso, barely covered by the cotton nightshirt.

  Tol swallowed hard.

  ‘Well?’ she asked breathlessly. ‘I won’t wait forever.’ She opened her mouth as if to scream, holding the pose while giving Tol a pointed glance.

  ‘It’s a lie.’

  ‘You cannot tease a lady so, Steven. And you should realise that I most certainly will follow through on my promise; Father is only a scream away.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant,’ Tol said, repositioning himself on his elbows. ‘The church. The church is built upon a lie.’

  ‘I do hope there is more to this story,’ Katarina said. She straightened up and peered down at Tol. ‘That would make for a very poor book, and a very brief one; barely a sentence.’ Her lip jutted out in suspicion, eyes narrowing. ‘Is the rest of the journal an account of wenching? That does seem the main preoccupation of most knights.’

  Tol laughed. ‘No. Valeron’s journal details the battle outside Galantrium when the demon’s army arrived at the gates. Demmegrahk himself led the Gurdal, but at the last moment Galandor descended and stood beside the defenders. He injured Demmegrahk, but was then injured himself when another demon came to its master’s aid.’

  ‘Is that not precisely what your church claims occurred?’

  ‘Do you want to tell the story?’

  ‘There is no need to be so contrary, Steven.’ Katarina waved a hand. ‘You may continue.’

  ‘Galandor was injured, but a small group of knights stood over the injured angel and fought the demon. In the end, my ancestor threw Galandor’s sword to Hunt Valeron and he killed the demon. The demon’s death shattered the Gurdal’s resolve, and the army fled. Just as the church teaches, that is what happened.’

  ‘But there is more?’ Katarina asked quietly.

  Tol nodded, adjusting his position slightly. ‘Seven knights, and a warrior from Sudalra – your ancestor – stayed with the injured angel while the army pursued the Gurdal down through the Spear and into the desert. They, ah, nursed him back to health. Galandor… Galandor told the men of a war between demons and angels that raged across the stars, and even when the last survivors arrived upon our moons, the war continued. The demons are trying to take over the world, and if they succeed they will turn us into their slaves until we, too, can reach the stars.’ Tol swallowed. ‘When that happens they will wipe out the angels and then return to finish us.’

  Katarina was looking at him with sympathy. ‘So they are not servants of a god?’

  ‘They made it up,’ Tol said quietly. ‘Galandor and the knights, they created the church to unite the nations against the demons and their Gurdal worshippers. The angels have a leader, but he is no god – he even has a name, though I don’t know what it is; Kalashadria called him “The First”. We made him a god, and told the world a lie, all to deny the demons victory.’

  ‘How extraordinary,’ she murmured. Her hand slithered across the covers and patted Tol’s wrist. ‘I am sorry, Steven, truly I am; this must be a difficult secret to bear.’

  Tol gazed up at her sadly. ‘We are all made of secrets.’

  Katarina nodded. ‘Truth is a precious commodity. So,’ she said, briskly changing the subject, ‘did this angel of yours really alight on our roof? I thought my father was teasing me at first.’

  ‘She was really there,’ Tol said. He smiled. ‘I don’t think she liked your father.’

  Katarina returned the smile. ‘That would explain his manner.’ Her expression grew serious. ‘And what did this creature say to you?’

  ‘The Meracian army is not forming quickly enough to reach the Desolate Cities. I’m to find out what’s slowing things down and, uh, sort things out.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Sort things out?’

  Tol shrugged awkwardly, nearly collapsing onto his back. ‘Kalashadria thinks the delay is purposeful. Find whoever’s interfering, then kill them. Nice and simple.’

  ‘I do not think so, Steven. Nothing in Meracia is simple; there are plots within plots and shifting sides that change with every heartbeat.’

  ‘I’m not stupid!’

  ‘Lower your voice,’ Katarina hissed. ‘Do you want my father to find us?’ Tol shook his head, feeling foolish, and she continued, ‘I was merely pointing out that your venture may not be, as you put it, “nice
and simple”. It was not an insult, Steven.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Every time they met, Tol seemed to find some way to make himself look stupid to the duke’s daughter. The more I try, he thought, the more stupid I appear.

  ‘So now this angel has asked, and you will do her bidding?’

  Tol frowned. ‘Of course.’

  ‘They are not like us, Steven, you would do well to remember that. Love, friendship,’ she gave a tiny shrug, ‘they may be as unfamiliar to them as honesty.’

  ‘She didn’t lie to me.’

  Katarina met his gaze, her face serious. ‘Her predecessor propagated the biggest lie in history. How can you believe anything this creature tells you?’

  ‘She wouldn’t lie, not to me, not after everything we’ve been through together.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right,’ she said, although Tol thought she was just humouring him. ‘But of all those she could choose for this task, why you?’ She raised a hand as Tol opened his mouth to protest. ‘I mean no disrespect to your abilities, Steven; your bravery and courage is beyond doubt.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But Meracia is a land of betrayals, of wheels within wheels, of plots that beget plots that then sire plots of their own. Why choose a knight? Why not a Meracian who may already understand the lie of the land?’

  ‘She chose me,’ Tol said, trying not to sound defensive. ‘Maybe that’s why; I know that Kalashadria was keen to be seen by as few people as possible.’ He shrugged awkwardly. ‘That, and the sword, I guess.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the sword of an angel.’ Katarina’s hand found Tol’s own, alighting upon it gently. ‘And through that gift you are now beholden to her.’

  Tol pulled his hand away. ‘It isn’t like that.’

  Katarina slid off the bed and smoothed down her fragile nightshirt. ‘I hope you are right, Steven, truly I do.’ She retreated a pace, one hand reaching out to grasp the lantern and the candle dying within. ‘What is she like?’