The Court of Broken Knives. Anna Smith Spark

His father was a demon, and if any man who ever lived could claim that he’d been fathered by a demon, it was Amrath. By the time He was ten years old, He’d killed a man. By the time He was twenty years old, He’d conquered an empire. By the time He was thirty years old, He’d conquered the world. The greatest, the most terrible of all the Lords of Irlast. Merciless. Ruthless. King of Shadows. King of Dust. King of Death. The whole world feared Amrath. They were right to fear, too, since He was a bastard who killed like other men breathed air. His wife Eltheia was the most beautiful woman living. His armies were the wonder of the world. Whole cities, He ordered burned with a snap of His fingers. Whole kingdoms, He enslaved. And by the time He was forty years old, He was dead and gone without even an unmarked grave.

      Not a good night to be out in, then, the anniversary of Amrath’s birth day. Ill-omened. The dark was close around them, the light of their fire was thin and weak. Their feet ached from walking. The ground seemed especially hard and lumpy. Rate discovered wriggling worm things in his water bottle after he’d drunk half of it. Emit laughed until Rate punched him. Marith woke them all up crying in his sleep again. Alxine found two scorpions in his boots.

      Ill-omened. Hell, yeah. Tobias had a suspicion that even apart from Marith’s sobbing none of them had got much sleep.

      Then the next morning the sun came up with a staggeringly pretty sunrise, and they found a tree full of ripe pink apples just sitting there waiting to be eaten, and a staggeringly pretty ripe pink girl waved at them, and Rate and Emit apologized to each other, and they’d finally been able to come down out of the wilderness into a town, and, glory of all the glories, spend the night in a cheap inn.

      Amrath was born and died a thousand years ago. Ill omens could bugger off.

      The inn had had hot food and hot water and a copious supply of not entirely undrinkable beer. Done them a world of good, Tobias reflected, watching them tramp along, mildly hung-over, Rate still eulogizing the fact he’d finally had a night in a bed. They seemed more comfortable around each other. Back to being a team. Even Marith: he’d fidgeted and hesitated, looked like he might cry again, refused to join them in favour of going straight up to sleep. Tobias had had to virtually drag him into the common room. But once there he’d relaxed quickly enough, to the point he either hadn’t been bothered or simply hadn’t noticed that Alxine had his hand on his leg. This in turn had cheered Alxine up enormously.

      Good lads, Tobias thought. Basically good lads.

      Shortly before noon he called a halt and ordered an early lunch. They could press on to the next village, but he’d rather they stop by the roadside, so he could talk to them properly. It was a lovely day, fresh and pleasantly warm after the searing heat of the high desert; they sat on scrubby grass and stretched out comfortably. Tobias shared out the food he had bought that morning, bread, cold meat and fresh golden apricots. The apricots in particular were delicious, sweet, ripe and perfumed, soft as skin.

      ‘The plan for the next few days is simple,’ Tobias said after a while.

      ‘That’s good,’ said Emit.

      ‘We’ll reach Sorlost tomorrow morning. Tonight, we’ll stay in a caravan stop outside the city and be in through the gates shortly after sunup. Then we’ll be lodging in the city itself while we make final preparations. It’s tight discipline from now on again, too, things might start up any time.’

      ‘What’s the cover story?’ asked Alxine.

      ‘Good question.’ Tobias drew a breath. This was the bit of the plan he wasn’t sure about, for all kinds of different reasons. Necessary, if anyone asked them what they were doing there and why. Always good to have a reason more than ‘because it’s there’, when you were about to shed blood in it. But it irked him. Uncomfortable, like a stone in his shoe. ‘We’ve got a few things to buy that might raise some eyebrows, if you know what I mean? Being bought by a load of hard men with funny accents. So. The story is that Marith here is a young Immish lordling come to Sorlost to sightsee, flash his cash and generally enjoy himself. We’re his entourage.’ He looked at the men uncomfortably. Knew what they’d say. ‘Got it?’

      Marith shifted slightly but said nothing.

      ‘We’re his bloody servants, you mean?’ said Emit with a growl. ‘I’m not being his bloody servant. I’m not taking orders from a green bloody boy.’

      Alxine said hotly: ‘He killed a dragon. More than you’ve ever done.’

      ‘He’s a green boy. You can follow him around all you like, I’m not.’

      Yes, indeed, knew what they’d say. Predictable as bloody cheese worms, this lot. ‘Stop it,’ Tobias said firmly over the top of them. ‘Be quiet, all of you. This is the plan. Skie’s plan. You don’t like it, you can have a whipping for insubordination.’ He looked at Marith, who was sitting on the grass a little away from them, his expression unreadable. The boy’s eyes met his own. Flickered for a moment, like the shadow of a bird’s wings passing before the sun. Tobias looked away.

      ‘He’s not really dressed for a noble,’ Rate said doubtfully.

      Talk about Mr Insightful. Never a truer word spoken by a man with no mouth and no tongue. Tobias sighed. ‘We’ll buy clothes and things when we get to Sorlost. The story will be that we were set on by bandits somewhere on the Immish road. Lost our horses and baggage, had to run to escape. Explains why we need equipment and such.’ Turned to Marith. ‘It’s plain as day you’re high-born, lad. And you’re obviously penniless, else you wouldn’t have ended up with us. So playing at high-born and penniless shouldn’t really be a problem for you, eh?’

      Marith burst out laughing.

      ‘Right then. We’re agreed, yes?’ Rate and Alxine nodded, followed after a moment by Emit. His eyes looked daggers at Marith, who stared blankly back. Emit turned away, spat in the dirt and cursed.

      Rate stood up and performed a flourishing bow. ‘Sire,’ he said, doffing an imaginary hat in Marith’s direction, ‘I am at My Lord’s service. Anything he wants, I shall procure him. What does My Lord command? In wine and women I am afraid I am sorely lacking, but I should think I can rustle up a handful of dried goat shit.’

      Broke the tension. Marith smiled with rather more amusement than he’d laughed. Even Emit grunted something like he was entertained. Well handled, lad, Tobias thought, looking at Rate. A clever boy there, knew when to play the clown, when to be firm. How to manage grumpy bastards like Emit. He’d only joined the company the last summer past, but he was a key part of them, the others looked to him. I’ll begin training him, Tobias thought. Pity to waste his potential. If he survives this, of course.

      Marith, on the other hand … Yes. Well. The boy had a charisma of some kind. More than just his obvious high breeding, though that was part of it. But it went deeper, something in him that you couldn’t put into words. The other men in the squad, even Rate, were men in the squad. Just men. Each with his own foibles and infuriating habits and passable good points if you squinted at them in the dark and ideally after about ten pints, but basically just men. Good lads. Marith was … something else. He’d sat quiet last night, hardly speaking. Nose down in his drink and those big sad eyes. The barmaid had pawed over him, not surprising, really, since the boy was considerably prettier than she was, and he’d ignored her completely. Not because he was shy of her, or not interested in her, he’d given the girl a thorough looking over at first, same as they all had apart from Alxine, but as though she had stopped meaning anything to him. As though nothing meant anything to him. He’d just sat there, in near silence, with that look on his face, far off and sad. And now he was sitting on the grass eating an apricot, legs drawn up before him, looking fresh as new cotton, sweet and young and innocent apart from his eyes.

      ‘Let’s get on then,’ Tobias said, standing up and wiping the remains of his meal off his hands. ‘We should be outside the gates by this evening.’ The men followed, shouldering their packs. ‘Not him. He’s a lord now. From now on, he doesn’t carry anything, do anything. We do it for him.’ Paused and glared round at them. ‘And no complaining, got it? No more than would be realistic, anyway.’