They passed through the gate without further interruption, and Gill was immediately hit by the sensation of foreboding he had every time he entered the city. His best and worst memories were here. Courting Auroré in the palace gardens and theatres, losing her in childbirth in the townhouse they had owned near the palace. Fighting for his life in the judicial arena. Having his banner torn to shreds and handed to him as the mark of ultimate disgrace. As he thought on it, it became impossible to see the best memories for the worst. He hated Mirabay, and every visit was one too many.
Worse, this time it felt as though the entire city was in mourning. Mourning with every city watchman out on duty. They were everywhere; he hadn’t even realised there were so many members of the Watch.
“Something strange is going on,” Gill said. “I’ve never seen the city like this.”
“What do you mean?” Solène said.
“I’m not sure.” Gill turned to a passer-by. “Excuse me, has something happened?”
“Piss off.” The person kept going without missing a step.
“Not very friendly,” Pharadon said.
“Welcome to Mirabay,” Gill said. “Perhaps everyone would be better off if your kind burned this place to the ground.”
“Except the people that got burned to death,” Solène said.
Gill instantly felt ashamed. Considering that that was exactly what had happened to his villagers in Villerauvais, the flippant remark had been tasteless. “I shouldn’t have said that. Let’s try to find that Cup. Pharadon, can you sense it?”
“I can, but barely. There’s so much energy here. All the people. Quite amazing. Not nearly as strong as at the temple, but still. The Cup is some distance away, in that direction.” He pointed.
“The palace,” Gill said grimly.
“That is bad?” Pharadon said.
“It’s not good.”
“It’s been delivered to the man who covets it?”
“Possibly,” Gill said, unsure how the dragon would take the news. “But he might not have used it.”
“He hasn’t. Even against all the background noise, I can tell that much.”
“Then there’s still time,” Solène said.
Getting into the palace would be nearly impossible. Getting their hands on something as important as the Cup? It might as well not even exist. Was he being too pessimistic? “You know more about all of this than I do, Solène. What are our chances here?”
“The Prince Bishop has placed a lot of importance on this. I’m not sure he’ll want to use it until he’s certain he knows how.”
“When will that be?”
She grimaced. “Probably now. I think the thief might have heard Pharadon and me talking. That would have told her all he needs to know.”
Gill took a deep breath and started to think about their next steps. As pessimistic as he was, there was something in him that wouldn’t allow him to give up. He wasn’t sure if it was some sort of innate desire for justice, or if he simply didn’t want Amaury possessing the power the Cup could confer.
“It’s no good, sitting here on our horses trying to work things out. Let’s find somewhere warm with decent food so we can rest up a little. I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted and starving. If Amaury hasn’t used the Cup by now, we might have a little breathing space. In any event, trying to rush into the palace to take it back will just get us all killed.”
Without the unlimited funds he’d had during his last visit to Mirabay, when he’d been on the Prince Bishop’s tab, staying at Bauchard’s again wasn’t an option. There were a number of other reputable inns about the city, however.
The Wounded Lion was tucked away on a quiet street near the Academy. Nondescript, clean and cheap, it was popular with young men coming to the city to take the Academy entrance examinations. Gill had stayed there many years before for that very purpose; when they entered, not only did the warmth of the fire and the smell of baking greet him, so too did a wave of nostalgia. Everything about the place reminded him of a time when life had seemed like a great adventure and the future had offered nothing but opportunity.
For a moment he was taken back to that time. This was where he’d first met Amaury. They’d both dreamed of getting into the Academy. Amaury had been the best blade Gill had encountered up to that point, and they’d quickly identified their usefulness to one another as training partners. Their first sparring session had been in the Wounded Lion’s stable yard. Their last had been in the city’s main duelling arena, during the Competition.
That fateful day, he felt certain now, had set in motion the chain of events that had brought Gill most of his misfortune. Of course, he had still been required to make a great number of bad decisions along the way. Why do I have to have so many bloody memories of this shitty city, he thought.
“Are you all right?” Solène said.
“Yes, fine. Just a few old memories rearing their ugly heads. Probably should have picked somewhere else to stay, but we’re here now. I’ll see to rooms and have some food sent over, if you and Pharadon want to relax by the fire.”
The young woman nodded gratefully, leaving Gill to try and chase the demons from his head as he went to the innkeeper’s desk.
“Three rooms, please,” Gill said. “My friends and I would like some food and drink.”
The innkeeper nodded and smiled. “Your name, sir?” he asked, preparing to make notes in his ledger.
“Richard dal Bereau,” Guillot said, borrowing the name of a nobleman two seigneuries over from Villerauvais. All things considered, there was no way Gill was comfortable giving his real name, but given the odd mood in the city, he wanted his lie to be plausible. Hopefully this would withstand any scrutiny for as long as he needed. It was only then that Gill noticed how quiet the inn was. Even though it wasn’t the right time of year for the Academy exams, usually plenty of people would stay at the Wounded Lion, many of them Academy hopefuls, in the city to train with one of Mirabay’s many fencing masters.
“Not many people around,” Gill said as casually as he could. “I have to admit I picked up on a bit of a strange atmosphere when we got to the city. Has something happened?”
“Oh,” the innkeeper said. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard. The king was taken seriously ill about a week ago. The news has only just gotten out. The Prince Bishop has stepped in as regent. It’s all very peculiar, particularly coming so soon after his announcement about this magical order—” He fell silent, looking suddenly concerned.
“Don’t worry,” Gill said. “I assure you, we’re strangers to the city, only just arrived.”
The innkeeper smiled genially. “All I’ll say is, I recommend you keep to yourself during your visit. I suspect turbulent times lie in store, so you’d be best completing your business and getting home. It’s not a welcoming place for those who don’t know their way around.”
Gill raised his eyebrows. “Thanks for the warning. We’ll be careful. Any word on the king’s health?”
“I really don’t know very much, sir. Only that he was taken very gravely ill. The citizens were already discontented with the Prince Bishop’s announcement, but for their king to be at death’s door, and so young? It’s not the type of instability the city needs right now.”
“No city ever reacts well to the illness of a monarch,” Gill said. He could remember hearing news of all the riots during the final couple of years of the old king’s rule. At the time, it had felt like justice. In truth, it still did. The old bastard had treated Gill abominably, no doubt with Amaury’s encouragement.