The Fell Sword by Miles Cameron Read Free Book Online Page B

him three more times.
    The Scholae trooper fell atop his captive, and slammed the man’s head into the tiles, knocking him unconscious.
    The older woman – the one with blood on her shears – motioned the younger woman to stand behind her.
    Derkensun met her eyes. ‘The princess?’ he asked.
    The younger seamstress with the shears peeked out. Her face was a perfect oval, her lips full and red, her eyes an almost impossible blue.
    The woman in the princess’s garments kicked and gave a stifled scream on the floor.
    ‘See to her,’ snapped the younger seamstress. She nodded to her rescuers and the monk. ‘Gentlemen, my thanks.’ She backed away a step. ‘Can anyone tell me what is happening?’
    Derkensun recognised the older woman – one of the many minor members of the Imperial family who decorated the palace. The Lady Maria. Her son was one of Derkensun’s favourite drinking companions – and wrestling opponents.
    He bowed. ‘Honoured Lady, the Duke of Thrake has captured or killed your father on the Field of Ares. The Logothete and the Spatharioi too.’
    The young seamstress put her hand to her breast. ‘Killed?’ she said. Then she seemed to collect herself. ‘Very well,’ she said with determined calm. ‘Do we hold the palace?’ she asked.
    Derkensun looked at the bridegroom, who was dusting himself off. He shrugged. ‘Lady Irene, when I went on duty an hour ago the Scholae held all the portals.’
    Derkensun turned to the princess. ‘Who ordered the Scholae out, Honoured Lady?’
    She pointed to the scarlet-clad corpse. ‘The Mayor. Something the Logothete said.’
    ‘Christ on the cross,’ Derkensun said. ‘We should ride clear, Honoured Lady.’
    ‘Do not blaspheme in my presence,’ Irene snapped. ‘If we leave the palace, we will never get it back.’ She glanced at Lady Maria, who nodded.
    ‘Throne room,’ she said. ‘At the very least the Imperial purple will make a superior burial shroud.’
    Derkensun took a moment to look at the bridegroom. He was unwounded; under his wedding clothes, he was wearing scale as fine as the scales on a big fish.
    Derkensun made a face.
    ‘I live in a tough neighbourhood,’ the young man said, kneeling by the bishop, who had stopped screaming. The man was dead.
    Together they dragged the bridegroom’s unconscious prisoner with them as they made their way along the main audience hall and into the central throne room. There should have been six Nordik Guards on duty. Instead, there were the corpses of two Scholae.
    The princess went straight to the throne. She paused, gathered her skirts, and sat.
    Lady Maria gave her a slight nod.
    Derkensun walked to the right-hand guard platform and stood at attention. It felt quite natural. The bridegroom went to the left platform.
    The monk bowed and when Irene didn’t offer him a stool, he stood.
    She looked around at them. ‘Thoughts?’ she asked.
    Derkensun thought that she sounded composed, and a good deal sharper than the Emperor. In fact she sounded Imperial.
    Maria looked at the two soldiers. ‘We have the city?’ asked the older lady.
    Derkensun bowed his head. ‘Madame, I sounded the gate alarm myself. But any gate may have been betrayed.’
    ‘The army?’ asked the princess. Or was she now the Empress? Her hesitation showed, despite her deicisive air.
    ‘The Vardariotes are in their barracks. Many of the Nordika . . .’ Derkensun paused. ‘Are dead.’
    The bridegroom bowed in turn. ‘I’ve seen the corpses of twenty Scholae,’ he admitted.
    ‘The Duke of Thrake has three thousand men, at least, outside the walls. Perhaps twice that.’ Derkensun spoke carefully. He had only addressed the Emperor two or three times. This was the longest conversation he had ever had with royalty.
    ‘And we have a few hundred,’ said the princess. ‘When it seems I need an army.’
    The Lady Maria gave a curtsey. ‘My lady, I happen to know where one can be found.’ She gave a slight smile. ‘Indeed,