Despite the fact that I suddenly found myself occupied with a stubborn opponent who was unreasonably good with a mace, I couldn’t help but spare a quick glance. Like a weaver spinning silk in the air, Brasti’s hand whisked back and forth from his quiver, each time sliding an arrow gracefully into place on the string of his bow, pulling, aiming and releasing, all in one smooth action, then repeating the motion. By the time I’d thrust my rapier into the leg of the man with the mace, Brasti had taken down three of the guards harrying Chalmers. ‘Ta-da,’ he said.
I hate Brasti sometimes.
‘Regroup! Regroup, damn you all!’ Captain Squirrel shouted.
‘He does a lot of shouting,’ Kest observed.
‘He’s their commander,’ Brasti said. ‘Isn’t shouting part of the job?’
‘Perhaps – but have you noticed? His orders don’t have much thought behind them. He just barks out vague commands and expects everyone else to figure out what they mean.’
Chalmers and the young woman stumbled towards us as a number of the Margrave’s other functionaries reluctantly obeyed the urging of their Lord, armed themselves with the weapons of the dead and injured and joined the remaining guards, inconveniently making a force larger than the one we’d started fighting in the first place.
‘Form up!’ Captain Squirrel shouted. ‘Run these bastards down!’
‘I see what you mean now,’ Brasti told Kest while nocking another arrow. ‘“Form up” – into what? Run us down – how? He’s really not giving these poor fellows much to go on, is he?’
The guards, however, didn’t appear to require much in the way of guidance. Two men with crossbows moved to either side of the main group, while three more settled long halberds into position and took the front of the line where they could use the longer weapons to keep us at bay while their fellows outflanked us. The rest lined up behind them, clearly waiting for the moment to overwhelm us with their superior numbers.
‘How would you rate our chances?’ I asked Kest.
‘Not good. Six of them will die before they manage to down one of us, then three more, but after that we get overrun,’ he replied without any discernible concern. ‘Brasti will fall first.’
‘What? Why is it always me?’ Brasti tossed his bow behind him and drew his sword. We were in too close for archery now. ‘Why not Chalmers? She’s not even a proper Greatcoat!’
‘At least she doesn’t hold her sword as if it were a snake about to bite her,’ Kest pointed out.
‘Stop saying I’m not a Greatcoat,’ Chalmers growled, bringing her cutlass into a forward guard as she pushed the emaciated Lady Mareina behind her. ‘And leave me out of . . . whatever this gabbling thing is that you’re doing.’
‘It’s called “strategy”,’ Brasti explained kindly. ‘Kest tells us how bad our odds are of survival, and then Falcio finds a way to make them worse, usually by—’
‘Shut up, Brasti.’
The wedding barge was beginning to look like one of those terribly complicated board games King Paelis used to make me play while expounding on military theory until I threatened to arrest him for violating his own prohibitions on torture. Kest, Brasti, Chalmers, Lady Mareina and I were boxed in near the front of the boat. Opposite us, the eight remaining guards, bolstered by a dozen of the Margrave’s other retainers, were wielding a variety of swords, maces, crossbows and knives of varying lengths. Behind them were some twenty wedding guests, many of them armed as well, and each with their very own armoured Knight for protection.
No way to fight them all, and nowhere to flee.
‘Surrender,’ Evidalle called out, his voice no longer quite so musical as it had been before Brasti shot an arrow through his hand.
I wasn’t above trying to take Evidalle or his young bride captive in order to escape, but they were too well protected behind their guards. In fact, had this been one of the King’s game boards, you’d have come to the inescapable conclusion that we were well and truly buggered.
‘Falcio?’ Kest said. ‘They’re getting ready to—’
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. The problem with games of war is that they’re deceptive precisely because they presume that there are rules to be followed. But this is Tristia, after all, and corruption runs deep in the bone.
‘Everyone shush now,’ I said, taking a step towards the guards. ‘I’m about to be impressive.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Changing the Game
‘I come to you with a remarkable offer,’ I said, my voice warm enough now to give it the air of command the moment called for. ‘A chance to control your destinies – at least for the next five minutes.’
My eyes drifted from the rows of the Margrave’s men to the Knights who were now standing in front of their nobles, preparing to shield them from the battle. ‘I propose you sail this lovely boat back to shore and allow us to take Lady Cestina’s sister away from here; that way everyone gets to walk away alive.’ I gestured to where Margrave Evidalle and his charming bride were huddled together. ‘If it sweetens the deal, at this point I’m even willing to let those two marry each other.’
‘He’s stalling,’ Captain Squirrel announced. ‘Prepare to strike on my command!’
I ignored him, focusing my attention on his soldiers instead. ‘Reconsider, gentleman, or I promise by every God and Saint dead and living that you’ll end up bleeding all over the Margrave’s lovely wedding barge, which will quite ruin the ceremony.’
‘Shouldn’t the wedding be off anyway?’ Kest asked.
‘I thought it had already happened,’ Brasti said. ‘The cleric said a prayer a—’
‘You’re ruining my speech,’ I said testily.
‘Sorry.’
Captain Squirrel took a step towards me, brandishing his long curved blade. ‘There are more than twenty of us and only three of you, Trattari. A smarter man would—’
‘Four,’ Chalmers said, irritated. ‘Am I being ignored because I’m a woman?’
‘There are a great many women in the Greatcoats,’ Kest observed. ‘Some rank amongst the finest fighters you’ll ever meet. Quillata, for example, was devastating with a—’
‘Kest?’ I said.
‘Oh, sorry. You’re still giving your speech?’
‘Yes, actually.’
‘By all the Gods and Saints, will someone damn well kill them?’ Evidalle shouted.
The guards took another step towards us, which irritated me no end. No one ever lets me finish a speech any more. ‘Gentlemen, you’ve sorely misjudged the situation. You didn’t think we’d come here alone, did you?’ Before he could answer I shouted to the Knights standing behind the line of guardsmen, ‘Sir Henrow, Sir Evan, Sir Floris, the order is given! By command of Valiana, Realm’s Protector, and Aline, heir to the throne of Tristia, attack!’
The rear line of guards spun around, fearing an assault from behind, and at the sight of a lot of men in armour with drawn swords facing them, Captain Squirrel screamed, ‘The damned Knights have betrayed us!’
In fact, none of the Knights had moved, probably because, to the best of my knowledge, there were no Sir Henrow, Sir Evan or Sir Floris present – and even if there had been, like as not they’d be siding with the guards. However, since the Knights were all from different houses, they didn’t know each other, or who might be hiding among them – and as soon as the Margrave’s guards started raising their swords and shouting, the Knights instinctively moved into position, apparently confirming that this was all an elaborate trap.
‘They’re going to attack – protect your Lords!’ one of the Knights shouted.