Turn first to your judgement, to your voice, and sing the words. And as my torturer battered me with his fists, that’s just what I did. My efforts to convince my torturer of the error of his ways had not produced much in the way of results, though I was gratified the morning when I awoke to the sound of him humming the melody of the King’s Law of Free Travel. He must have been embarrassed that I’d noticed, because he gave me a particularly bad beating that morning.
By my fourth day in the cell I was not far from ended. Despite the healing salves they periodically smeared on my body to keep me from expiring in peace, there really wasn’t much left of me. Since I could barely lift a finger, never mind devise an escape, they had even released me from the chains.
It is at times such as these that we Pertines believe an angel will come to hear your last words.
‘And here sits Paelis’ great hope,’ a voice said. It didn’t sound much like an angel. I opened my eyes.
What I saw was a woman in her middle year. Her form was slim but well-shaped, and she wore a gown of dark red, with matching jewels – rubies – hanging from her ears and around her neck. She had striking grey hair, well fashioned above a lined and unsmiling face. She wasn’t beautiful – she had probably never been beautiful – but in the sharp edges of her features and the coolness in her eyes there was still something seductive, something that suggested she knew what you wanted, what you needed – something that would sway commoner or nobleman alike to her will.
Then I saw the rings on her fingers: seven of them, large and gaudy and shaped like wheels. Despite my weakness, I lunged forward to kill her.
My torturer, whom I called ‘Ugh’ since that’s what came out of my mouth when he struck me, grabbed me with one hand and held me, though he needn’t have bothered. My attempted attack was more than my body could handle and if he’d let me go I would have dropped to the floor myself. Instead, he punched me in the face and threw me back against the wall.
‘Ugh,’ I said.
‘My, my. An execution with no trial? I thought you Greatcoats were supposed to be above such things,’ said Duchess Patriana.
‘You killed Tremondi, you bitch.’ I coughed something up that I hoped wasn’t a tooth before adding, ‘Did you do it yourself? Or did someone do it for you? I swear if it was your daughter I’ll put the blade in her myself.’
She looked down at me with a calm expression. ‘You are uncouth,’ she said, ‘and common, and unimportant.’
‘Perhaps you should take your leave, in that case. I was just about to instruct Ugh here on the finer points of landholder contracts and farming rights.’
She smiled. ‘Ah yes, your King’s Laws. So just, so honourable – to master them is to master the sunshine, or the light of the moon. Even to utter them out loud will rouse the soul of the peasantry and free the land from the oppressive nobility!’
‘Something like that,’ I said.
‘One wonders why Paelis never saved himself the trouble. If he had taught his wonderful laws to the Dukes, he could thereby have freed us of our own ignorance.’
I smiled. ‘For the same reason we don’t try to teach cats to count. They’re either too fucking stupid or they just don’t care.’
Ugh lifted me off the ground and punched me again.
I coughed, and tasted blood on my tongue. ‘Right you are, Ugh. It’s time to get back to it … Much to talk about … Anything else … I can help you with, your Ladyship?’
Patriana leaned in close and inspected my face with the languid attentiveness of a healer examining a rather unimportant patient. ‘Some of them work for me now, you realise?’ she said quietly.
‘Some of whom, your Ladyship?’
‘The Trattari. Your fellow Greatcoats – half of them work for me. The other half are bandits these days.’
I snorted. It hurt.
‘Laugh if you want, First Cantor, but it’s a fact: your noble Greatcoats make their living ravaging the countryside. There have been robberies, Falcio, and murders. And rapes. And all of these committed by your men.’
‘Liar,’ I said, despite my intent to keep silent.
She shook her head. ‘Innocence might be a virtue, Falcio, but wilful ignorance is not. It’s been five years since you were disbanded. Did you really think they’d all stay loyal to a dead King?’
‘My Lady, there are no traitors in the Greatcoats. Not one.’ I let the lie slip from my lips like a trickle of blood.
Patriana laughed. ‘Traitors? You poor, deluded fool. The Greatcoats serve the state! The King has been dead for five years and the Dukes are the lawful rulers of this country. The men working for us aren’t traitors, Falcio – you are.’
When you’re being tortured, the most important skill is to ignore what you hear. The pain is horrible, but what breaks you is what they say. That’s why you have to live with the pain but block out the words.
‘Well then, your Ladyship, you seem to have everything you need. If you don’t mind, I’ll take my leave of you now.’ I let my head slump down and closed my eyes.
Ugh punched me in the face.
The Duchess arranged her gown carefully and sat down on the wooden stool. She crossed one ankle over the other.
‘Are there others?’ she asked.
‘Ah, yes, that. Ugh’s been asking me the same thing for some time.’
‘And apparently you have failed to answer. So let me ask you again: are there others? Your attempt to escape the city failed and there’s little reason to prolong your agony. So answer the question: where are the others? Do any still live?’
The truth was, I honestly didn’t know. Other than Kest and Brasti, I hadn’t seen another Greatcoat in years. I’d tried to convince myself that Parrick, Niles, Dara and some of the others would have survived, that we would all find each other again one day, but the truth was, the only land we would likely ever share together was the land of the dead.
‘Lots,’ I said. ‘Hundreds. And I swear the numbers grow by the day.’
‘Answer me!’ she screamed, rising from her stool and slapping me across the face. The force of the blow surprised me.
She went on: ‘I’ve spent my entire life in an endeavour that will reshape this country – that will make it strong in the eyes of Saints and Gods – and I will not have my plans shattered because one of Paelis’ little bastards runs off and rouses the peasants or the damnable Lords Caravaner.’
‘I thought you said most of us either worked for you or had turned to banditry. Perhaps you give us more credit than you’d like to admit,’ I said, a little confused by her over-estimation of the Greatcoats’ persuasiveness.
‘I give you no credit at all, fool. Now, if you value your sanity or your soul, answer the question: Where are the others?’
Something about the way she asked the question – the fear, the anger, the deep and utter need to know – something about this strange sincerity coming from the mouth of the woman who, more than any other single person alive, was responsible for destroying my world, compelled me to answer truthfully, ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’
She reached down and dug her nails into the sides of my face. ‘You filthy, stupid boy. You dog. You think you’ve been tortured? You think you’ve known pain? The things they do here are nothing compared to what I can do to you. I’ll have them slice your skin open and bring starving children in to suckle the blood from your wounds while you watch. I’ll put an ointment on your cock that makes it hard, and have them use you to rape old women to death. I make monsters, Falcio val Mond, and I can make a monster out of you. I know more ways to torture a man than this dog with his poisons and beatings can ever imagine.’