The Two of Swords, Part 16 Page 4

  “Five suits?”

  “That’s right. Spears, shields, stars and wheels, and swords, which they decided to do away with. Hence the trick cards we use in the Lodge. Making a total of ninety-two.”

  “Rather a lump to carry around.”

  “Quite,” he said. “And expensive, too, when the packs were made of silver. And we’ve managed all these years with seventy-eight, so that’s all right.” He gathered the cards and put them back in his pocket. “I’ve seen it, you know.”

  “Seen what?”

  “The original pack,” he replied. “Or at least, what they believe is the original pack, though after all this time it’s really just a matter of faith. It’s a sort of holy relic; they only bring it out once every fifty years or so. I just happened to be in the neighbourhood at the time, so I got a look at it, over someone’s shoulder.”

  Clearly she was meant to be impressed (which she was). “Probably a fake.”

  “Probably,” he said. “I mean, what are the chances of something that old surviving all those years? Anyhow, there’s only a handful of people alive who could tell if it’s genuine. Emperor Glauca, for one. And the head of the Lodge, of course. He’s the one who looks after it, so they say.”

  “I don’t believe there is a head of the Lodge,” she said. “I think he’s just a convenient myth, like the Invincible Sun.”

  “It’s pretty bad,” she was telling him. “Probably where you’ve been the last few months, you wouldn’t have noticed particularly, but everything’s falling to pieces.”

  “We’d sort of gathered that in Blemya,” he said. “So, how many of us did they catch?”

  “Relatively few. Pretty well everyone who was on record as being a Craftsman either got out before the news broke or shortly afterwards. A few, couple of hundred maybe, got caught when they closed the borders.” She drew a finger across her throat. “The bitch of it is, my division’s been assigned to tracing and retrieval, so I’m directly responsible for about a dozen of us going to the gallows.”

  “No you’re not,” he said, quick and firm. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s the genius somewhere up the ladder who thought the Lodge declaring war on both empires simultaneously was a good idea.” He scowled at his feet for a moment, then added, “Which it was, it goes without saying. At a stroke, all the brightest and the best on both sides of the border are either vanished or dead, so, naturally, everything grinds to a halt.”

  “Except the war.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Oida said crisply. “With no clerks to organise supplies and write up the payroll, it’s only a matter of time. I wish someone had told me beforehand, though. When the news broke, I was scared stiff: I thought they’d come for me, sure as eggs. After all, I haven’t exactly made a secret of being a Craftsman over the years.”

  “Ah, but everybody knows you’re shallow and insincere and you only go through the motions so as to be popular.”

  “Just as well, or I’d be dangling on a bit of string right now. How about you? Any suspicions?”

  “I don’t think so, or they wouldn’t have put me on retrievals.” She looked away, out of the window. Far away in the distance, she could make out a grey blur, the walls of Rasch. “So, you haven’t had any bother.”

  He shrugged. “I come and go and nobody says anything, but I’ve got a lot of free time on my hands. Cancelled bookings, that sort of thing. I tell myself it’s because there’s no clerks to organise anything. Probably true.”

  “It’s just that nobody likes your songs any more.”

  “If only. No, I’d be happy with that, if that’s all it is. Tell you the truth, I’m sick of it, I’d give up tomorrow if I could. No, don’t pull faces, I mean it. Slowly it’s dawned on me that I’ll never write great music, which is what I wanted to do when I started out. So what’s the point? Nobody ever got into this business because of a burning desire to write second-rate music.”

  “You couldn’t live without it. You’re like the gods in the fairy tale. If people stopped worshipping you, you’d cease to exist.”

  He gave her a disapproving look, which made her want to smile. “You don’t know what it was like,” he said, “growing up with my brother. He was always the favourite, the smart one, the good-looking one. Also he was the heir, he was going to get all the land and the money, and either I was going to have to get out there and shift for myself, or I’d spend the rest of my life hanging round the house living off his charity, of which he has none. The only thing I could do better than him was sing and play the lute, so that’s what I did. Never cared much for music when I was a kid – that came later, luckily enough – but I was like a fish that didn’t like swimming. Tough, you live in the water, get on with it. And what I do have, and he’s never had, is application.”

  She looked at him carefully, as though she could see the component that was out of place, but not how to get at it to fix it. “You don’t talk about him much.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “Have I got to?”

  “Yes.”

  Tiny sigh. “Fine. All right. My brother Axio isn’t a very nice man. I see him as a pair of scales. In one pan, you’ve got every good quality a man could ask for – looks, charm, brains, talent. In the other pan, you’ve got what it takes to make the scale balance. When I was a kid, I’d have given anything to be him. These days, I’d kill myself first. Does that answer your question?”

  “No, of course not. Tell me about him. I know he got into big trouble. What did he do?”

  But Oida shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “That’s between him and me.”

  “Tell me what he did.” Or? Or what?

  She was hurting him now, pulling his tail; he didn’t like it, but she didn’t care. “Fine,” he said. “I promised him I wouldn’t go around telling people, but you want to know, so I’ll tell you. When my brother was twenty-five and I was eighteen, I fell in love. She was our neighbour’s daughter, and I was absolutely besotted, and she loved me just as much as I loved her. Furthermore, she was an heiress on her mother’s side, so a nice chunk of property came with her – no, don’t look at me like that, it’s important because, if we’d got married, I’d have had my own place, a comfortable living, in the country. I’d have been your typical minor gentry, which is all I ever wanted to be. And it meant we could get married: her parents were happy and so were mine. It was the problem of me solved at a stroke, everything I could possibly wish for, I could be what the Great Smith made me to be, it was perfect. So, of course, Axio had to spoil it.”

  Oida was quiet for a moment. She wished she’d never said anything.

  “At the time he was engaged to our cousin, a lovely girl and incredibly grand, the side of the family that had the serious money; it was perfect match for him – well, for them both. I think he genuinely cared for her, and she was dotty about him. But not to worry; Axio set about taking my girl away from me, only to find that he couldn’t. He did his best, he tried everything, but, no, she loved me and she had no interest in him whatsoever. It got to be sort of an obsession with him. People started talking, and our cousin couldn’t understand: it made no sense to her. She knew him so well, and she could see that my girl simply wasn’t his type. I think she figured out why he was doing it. Anyway, she had no choice but to break off the engagement. Her parents made her, and he was making her look utterly ridiculous. I think that might just have been what pushed him over the edge.”

  She wanted to say: stop there, don’t go on. Too late for that, of course.

  “My brother has certain standards,” Oida continued. “I don’t understand them, but I assume he does. He’ll cheerfully steal and kill, but he disapproves of rape; I guess he sees it as an admission of failure. So he killed her. It wasn’t in a fit of temper; it was a well-organised, carefully planned light infantry operation, because by that stage her parents had forbidden him the house and she didn’t dare set foot outdoors because of him. So he got up a raiding p
arty, stormed the house, killed everybody and burned the place to the ground. Say what you like about my brother, he’s a talented soldier and a fine leader of men; that place was built as a fortress and well garrisoned, and he stormed it with twenty men and no heavy machinery. He could easily have been a general if he’d set his mind to it.”

  She stared at him.

  “Perfectly true,” Oida said, “in case you were wondering. I know, because he told me all about it, in great detail. It was the night he left home in a hurry. He hauled me out of bed, smacked me around a bit and tied me to a chair. It’s all your fault, I remember he told me. I’m ruined; because of you I’ve lost everything. I really ought to kill you, only letting you live will hurt you more. I was so scared I shat myself. I was sitting there in my own shit while he told me how he cut her throat. He showed me the knife, and how he did it – like so, with sound effects. Anyway, that’s my brother for you. Any questions?”

  Like a general in a civil war, who surveys the slaughtered enemy and sees his brother. “He got away with it.”

  “You know he did, so that’s not a question. Yes, it was all deftly covered up, blamed on outlaws; they rounded up a bunch of deserters living in the forest and hanged them for it. But Axio had to clear out. He still blames me. I honestly couldn’t tell you how I feel about him. After all, it was a long time ago and he’s my brother. And I’ve done some pretty bad things since then.”

  Said casually, as though it was all as broad as it was long. She looked up and saw that they were getting close to the walls of Rasch. The idea was that he should get out at the fifth milestone, where he was meeting someone, while she took the coach to the livery stable in Longwall. “We’re here,” she said.

  “So we are. Look, I’d suggest we met up later, but I’m not actually mad keen on showing my face in town right now, and you’ve got business to attend to.”

  She looked at him. “No I haven’t.”

  A guilty look. “Actually, you have. You’ve got an appointment first thing in the morning.” From his sleeve, like a conjuror, he produced a card; the six of swords, painted in three colours on thin limewood board. There is no six of swords in a conventional pack.

  “Sorry,” he said; then he closed his fist on the card, crushing it to splinters, and tossed it out of the window. “That’s why I was sent to get you. The coach was so we’d make it back in time. They sent me because apparently it’s quite important, and I told them I was pretty sure you’d come with me, whatever the situation at home. Anything else I may have told you was lies.” He made a fist and banged on the back partition of the coach, which drew to a stop. “Good luck,” he said, and swung quickly and gracefully out of the door, closing it behind him. By the time she got to her feet and leaned out of the window, he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

  “That’s what we pay you for.” The curtain drew back, and she saw a long, thin nose and a pair of worried brown eyes. “You got here all right.”

  “Yes.”

  “How are things at home?”

  “Normal.”

  He frowned, as though she’d said something uncouth. “Before we start, do you want to make a confession? Might as well, since we’re here.”

  “Yes, as it happens. I was deliberately cruel to a friend.”

  “Say three Ascensions and light a candle for him.” His eyes were tired, as though he hadn’t slept much lately. “Actually, forget the candle. Just three Ascensions.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Thou shalt not negotiate with the Lord thy God. Now listen.”

  He sounded edgy, almost (but it was unthinkable) scared. “Go on.”

  “Things are really bad.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “They’re scaling the purge up a notch or two. Anyone suspected of Lodge activity or membership at any time. Naturally we’ve passed the word along, but getting out is going to be really difficult; they’re going to close the gates and you’ll need a permit to leave the city. Naturally this is going to cause enormous problems, because it’ll mean thousands of hungry mouths will be trapped inside who wouldn’t normally be here long term, and of course they haven’t thought about extra food supplies or anything like that. Now we can get permits, for the time being at least, but don’t rely on that lasting. We’ll try and get as many of our people out as we can, except for those who’ve agreed to stay, get caught and tortured into betraying our friends. Only it goes without saying the names we’ll give them won’t be Craftsmen.” His voice was steady; unnaturally so. “With any luck, they’ll have lynched most of the few loyal, competent officers they’ve still got before they figure out we’ve been playing games with them. Listen to me.” His voice dropped, and she could feel the pressure behind it, about to burst. “The empires are going to fall, both of them. It’s only a matter of time. It’s only the Belot boys who’re keeping the armies from turning on the emperors and tearing them to pieces, and when something happens to them – I say when – there’ll be a carve-up like you can’t begin to imagine. The only thing that can stop that is if there’s a new emperor; one emperor, strong, unimpeachably legitimate and on our side. And it just so happens we have the man for the job.”

  Something clicked into place in her mind. She held her breath.

  “He’s only a distant cousin, but all the rest of the Imperial family are dead, so he’s quite legitimately the heir to the throne. And the thing of it is, he’s a Commissioner of the Lodge. It really couldn’t have worked out better. Except, of course, for all the dead people.”

  She was about to choke. “Oida.”

  He looked at her, and her heart stopped. “Close, but no apple. Oida’s the younger brother. Our man is Axio.”

  “But that’s—”

  A smile, without the faintest trace of joy. “I know,” he said, “he’s no angel. But he’s a Craftsman to the bone, he’s a born leader of men and we think he’ll do a grand job. The only thing is, there’s a problem.”

  “Too right there’s a problem. He’s mad.”

  He laughed. “You’d think that’d be an obstacle, but read your history book and you’ll find that actually, no, it isn’t. No, the problem’s more delicate than that. You see, if this is going to work there’s got to be just one heir. Certainty, you see. Two possibles, a choice, and we risk the whole dreary business starting up all over again, East and West, until there’s nobody left alive at all.”

  He was making a point, but she couldn’t see it. “You just said. He’s the heir. All the rest are dead.”

  “No,” he said. “Not all.”

  She got as far as “But—” and then it hit her. Axio had a brother.

  “Think about it,” he went on. “What do emperors do, after a civil war, as soon as they’ve got the crown on their heads? They slaughter their relatives. It’s a crisp, clear message; him or nobody, him or we’re back where we started, and the whole thing’s been for nothing.”

  “But that’s stupid,” she heard herself say. “All right, yes, I can see what you mean about only one of them, but you’ve chosen the wrong one. Axio’s mad. He murdered a whole family, just to spite his kid brother.”

  He frowned. “That was a long time ago.”

  “People don’t change.”

  “Actually, they do. In Axio’s case, he’s got worse. But maybe you weren’t paying attention a moment ago. Axio is a Commissioner of the Lodge.”

  “He’s a psychopath.”

  He shrugged. “The Great Smith finds a use for every piece of steel in the scrapheap. Who’s to say Axio isn’t exactly the man we need? His faith is beyond question. Surely that’s all that matters.”

  She stared at him. He was serious. “So you’re actually saying you’re going to murder Oida so Axio can be the next emperor.”

  He looked straight at her. “Not me.”

  She was too stunned to speak, or even move. It was impossible. It was a test of some kind, a trap, a trick.

  “Oida’s no fool,”
he went on. “It’s inconceivable that all of this hasn’t occurred to him already – that he’s next but one in line, and we want the next emperor to be one of us. In fact, I’ve been half expecting him to go to ground, except he’s smart enough to realise that he can’t hide from us, no matter where he goes. No, he’s standing his ground, because he knows it’s the safest thing for him to do. He’s possibly the best-known man in the world after the emperors, very high-profile, not someone who just disappears without anybody noticing. He keeps on the move, close to where there’s Imperial forces, where he figures we won’t go, and above all he makes sure he only has people around him who he can absolutely trust. People like you.”

  She managed to find her voice. It sounded strange and far away. “You must be mad. I—”

  “He’s in love with you. Everybody knows that. You’re his best friend.”

  He’s crazy, she thought, he’s giving me all the reasons why I can’t—“I won’t do it.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you listening to me? I said—”

  “You have to. This is a direct order.”

  “The hell with you and your orders.”

  “You can’t disobey a direct order and remain a member of the Lodge.” He looked straight at her, and she couldn’t turn away. “You know what that means.”

  “I don’t believe in all that stuff.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I don’t believe in anything that’d order me to do something like that.”

  “That’s not quite the same thing, is it?” he said quietly. “Listen to me. You remember that scene in the play The Madness of Theuderic? We’ve just seen the Goddess drive the hero mad – she’s right there, in front of our eyes – so that he kills his wife and children. Then the madness leaves him, and he’s horrified by what he’s just done. His best friend comes up to him and says, it wasn’t your fault, the Goddess made you do it, you’re not to blame. But he can’t accept that, so his friend reminds him of all the myths and legends, about all the wicked and hateful things the gods do, to us and to each other, just for spite. But the hero says, I don’t believe in any of that, I don’t believe the gods are capable of evil; that’s just blasphemy and lies.” He paused, and smiled sadly. “But we know the friend is right and the hero is wrong, because we were there; we saw it happen. I understand, trust me. You don’t want to believe. But you do. You have to, because of what you’ve seen.”