The Telastrian Song (23 page)

G
iura looked
over the note one last time as he waited for Soren to arrive at the coffee house. Austorgas’ were going to move against Amero. How and when were the only questions that remained.

‘
H
ow badly do
you want to do it yourself?’ Giura said, when Soren arrived.

‘Very. I need to see him dead. I need to know it’s over. There aren’t many people who can beat him in a fight. I believe I’m one of the few. If not me, then who?’ Soren said.

‘I thought you’d say that. This has turned up.’ Giura slid his decipherment of the message across the table. He had deleted any names as a precaution to it being seen by anyone in the coffee house, and as such the note was all but nonsensical to an uninformed party. As always, Giura took pleasure in hiding things in plain sight.

Soren read the message and looked at Giura. ‘Who’s the other party?’

‘Austorgas’ Banking House,’ Giura said.

Soren whistled in surprise. ‘That’s a powerful enemy. How much does he owe them?’

‘No idea, but it must be a lot if they’re so het up about it.’

‘What does this mean? What are they planning to do?’

‘Again, no idea, but I think the time for writing angry letters is well past. That’s why I asked if you want to do it yourself. It seems likely the task might be taken out of our hands. He might be killed without us having to do anything more at all.’

‘Do you think they’re capable of pulling it off?’

‘Who knows. They haven’t lasted as long as they have by making blunders—but as you say, Amero was the finest blade in Ostia for years. There aren’t many men who can handle him one on one. Poison is an option though, as is a well-aimed crossbow bolt. We don’t have the resources to get close enough for poison but they do, and it’s as effective a method as any. They could put someone in his household. They have limitless resources.’

Soren frowned. ‘And if they fail? Another attempt on his life so soon after the last one will send him behind a wall of security that no one will ever be able to get past. If the next one doesn’t get him, I can’t see us ever having another opportunity.’

‘I think you’re right in that,’ Giura said.

Soren raised his eyebrows. ‘What do we do then?’

‘We find a way to convince the Austorga of Ostenheim that we are the solution to his problem.’

A
ll men were exploitable
, it was an incontrovertible fact. Finding the thing that allowed them to be exploited was an entirely different, and more difficult thing. Giura considered himself to be quite skilled at it, but admitted finding a way to pressurise one of the wealthiest and most influential men in the world was a daunting challenge. Despite the wealth and power, members of the Austorga family were remarkably low key. They rarely attended social functions; balls, the theatre, opera and such, and maintained no permanent link with the city they were based in. The branches of the family moved between the cities in which they had banks every few generations, ensuring that their only connection and loyalty was to the bank and family.

This habit made it difficult for Giura, but not impossible. Passion was the usual point of leverage, be it women, gambling, booze or a combination—the list of vices was endless. A little perseverance and footwork was always the most effective way to discover it. Follow and watch a man for long enough, and he would reveal his innermost secrets without ever realising it if one was in any way competent. Gian-Cantaro Austorga was no different.

Duelling held an important role in Ostian society—indeed it held an important role in all of the countries around the Middle Sea, and had ever since the days of the Empire. It served many useful social functions; as an opiate for the masses it gave the ordinary commoner something to think about other than the misery and limitations of their own lives. They could live vicariously through the successes and failures of their chosen arena favourite and devote hours of their time to discussing the new rising stars from their favourite fencing salons.

For the higher echelons of society, it was equally useful. It provided a neutral meeting point for rivals and allies among the city’s noble houses, and the houses of commerce. All professed an interest in duelling, whether genuine or for the networking opportunities it provided.

Gian-Cantaro’s interest in duelling far exceeded that of other men of his rank. It stemmed not from a desire for the business openings provided by regular attendance at the Amphitheatre—he didn’t need them—but out of a genuine love of the sport. Giura was always curious, beyond merely professional interest, as to what motivated men. Women, gambling and narcotics were always easy ones to work out; they were driven by the base nature of man, but something like Gian-Cantaro’s love for duelling was much more complex, and intriguing as a result.

It made Giura wonder whether the young Gian-Cantaro had dreamed of going to the Academy and then taking his place on the arena floor? He was born for a life at the University and then the bank, the requirement of the name he carried, but dreams die hard, even in one who had long since given up on them.

As Giura followed him at a discreet distance to one of the small arenas in Barons, he marvelled at Austorga’s transformation. Gone were the fine clothes and the air of power and sophistication, replaced by common fabric and the countenance of a man anticipating the only joy of his day. He needed to keep his attendance secret for obvious reasons. All those seeking the advantages the social attendance at duels brought would spoil Austorga’s enjoyment of it.

Austorga’s family had a luxurious private box at the Amphitheatre that afforded one of the finest views of the arena floor beneath. The finest food and wine would be enjoyed in the midst of conversation on important matters, with barely a glance being afforded at the toil of the professional duellists below. On this occasion, dressed and behaving like the ordinary man on the street, Gian-Cantaro Austorga occupied a seat in the front row, where watered down wine and cheap salted snacks could be purchased from roving vendors. He roared with the crass vigour of the rest of the crowd, chatted with animation to the men—complete strangers all—sitting around him.

In a way, Giura found it reassuring to see that a man who had access to everything, and could have anything he wanted, took such joy in a simple thing available to everyone who could afford the entry price of a couple of pennies. It solved the question of how they would get to Austorga to speak with him, but not what they would say.

D
uelling arenas were
nothing new to Soren. There was a duel to be found somewhere in the city nearly every day and, with nothing else to do, most of the days of his childhood and teens had been spent sneaking into arenas, watching the duels and dreaming hopeless dreams. It was to watch Amero fight, as often as not. Despite his abrupt change in fortune, the career as a duellist that he had long wished for was never a realistic possibility. As a sponsored student at the Academy, a position in his patron’s retinue was his most likely future. After falling out with Amero, as a penniless banneret a military or mercenary life was the most viable future for him. The costs of training and membership of a duelling salon were high, and it took a long time to establish oneself to the point of being able to make a living.

He was knowledgeable to the point of tedium on the workings of the arena, and coupled with his extensive education in the martial arts, Soren could talk about duelling with as much authority and enthusiasm as any man alive. From the age where he worked out how to sneak into the Amphitheatre and climb up onto the support beams for the sun awnings, Soren had watched nearly every duel there until his chance encounter with Amero brought him to the Academy. He often wondered how many duels he had watched there. Thousands at least, probably tens of thousands, and he felt confident to say he had seen every single one of Amero’s Amphitheatre matches. It was a bold boast, one that had gotten him into fights as a youth when Amero was the darling of the arena and the city’s favourite son. Now he found it difficult to think of the claim with any pride or affection. All things considered, Soren was the perfect choice to initiate contact with Gian-Cantaro Austorga.

Small arenas drew the less talented or the less established swordsmen, but they were proving grounds for new additions to duelling salons’ rosters and the maestros used them to get a feel for the potential those young men had for the future. Because of this, the small arenas still drew respectably large crowds for the most part. Everyone wanted to be the first to see a rising talent before they became famous, while others were fervent supporters of specific duelling salons, and would attend any duel in which that salon was represented.

Soren took his seat beside the disguised Austorga, nodding politely as he did. The first match began soon after, and Soren feigned interest in it with little difficulty. The duellists were an ill matched pair, one old and of no reputation, the other young and equally unknown. However, one was on the way up and the other on the way down, which often made for an interesting match. The elder man would fight for his pride, the fading hope for his career, refusing to allow himself to be bested by a younger upstart. The younger man would realise that the opportunities to impress were few, after which he would be passed over to earn a similar fate to the man opposite him. He would fight with ambition and the desperation born of the fear of ending up like his opponent.

The Master of Arms started the duel. The younger man attacked straight away, hungry and impatient. He had talent, but speed and energy were his primary assets. His opponent was workmanlike in his swordplay. He showed no flair, simply the movements of a man long accustomed to carrying out the practice of his trade. It was sad to watch; there was no joy or passion in it.

The veteran allowed his young foe to drive him back across the arena floor. There was nothing remarkable about the exchange and Soren didn’t hold out much hope for the younger man’s future in the arena.

‘All aggression and energy,’ Soren said, to no one in particular, but with the intention of Austorga hearing him. ‘No skill in it at all.’

‘Couldn’t agree more, friend,’ Austorga said, without taking his eyes from the lacklustre display. ‘With the wars over, all the young bannerets seem to think the arena is the best way for career advancement. Most of them aren’t suited for it.’

Austorga made an effort to mask his upper-class accent, but every so often the clipped pronunciations of privilege slipped through.

‘Few are. Haven’t seen anyone come close to the Duke in his prime.’

Austorga cast him a half glance, but concealed his feelings as quickly as he had allowed them to show.

‘Not a fan of the Duke’s style?’ Soren said.

Austorga remained silent, and Soren worried that he had pushed his agenda forward too quickly.

‘I’m not either, for what it’s worth. This might interest you though.’ He handed Austorga Giura’s decipherment of the message.

Austorga hesitated for a moment before taking it. He unfolded it and began to read. The blood drained from his face.

‘Who are you?’ Austorga said, all semblance of a working man’s accent gone.

‘Someone who can help you with your problem,’ Soren said.

T
he study
in Gian-Cantaro’s city mansion in Highgarden was a more appropriate place to discuss matters of treason that would lead them all to the headsman’s block if discovered. Giura was waiting for them outside the small arena, and Austorga ushered them both back there.

Austorga brought them into his house through the servants’ entrance, and then to a luxuriously appointed study. He sat and gestured to the other chairs. ‘If you expect me to discuss that note—which cannot in anyway be traced to me—with two strangers, you have another think coming.’

‘Why would you bring us back to your private study then?’ Giura said.

‘I’m curious as to how you might attribute an obviously forged note to me. And if needs be, now that I have you here I can have you dealt with.’

Giura smiled. ‘Well then, why don’t we begin with proper introductions? I am Banneret Intelligencier Vallis Giura and my associate is Banneret Soren.’

Austorga sneered. ‘So I know your names. That makes little difference. That I now know you are an Intelligencier makes it even less likely I would continue this conversation. I can only presume you hope to extort me with this, this fabrication.’ He waved the transcription in the air. ‘With your names, at least I know who to instruct my lawyer to have prosecuted for harassment and extortion, should I choose not to have you dealt with in a more aggressive fashion.’

‘Why don’t you let me lay out the facts,’ Giura said, ‘and we shall see if I can convince you that talking to us is in your best interest.’

Soren remained quiet. He was content to allow Giura to do the talking; he was better at it.

‘I’ll address the matter of our fidelity first,’ Giura said. ‘If we were trying to lure you into a trap to have you convicted of treason, why would we have brought the message to you in the first place? Why would we not have taken it directly to the Duke? You might say that there is no way you could be connected to this note, which is correct, but in order to make this transcription we needed access to the original, which was marked with your seal. We could have taken that to the Duke, and it very definitely would connect you and your entire banking house to acts of treason. We did not.’

Austorga’s face remained an emotionless mask. Either he was very brave, very sure of himself, or very good at negotiating from an unfavourable position. Soren was not sure which.

‘Do continue,’ Austorga said, his voice equally impassive.

‘If you accept that we’re not acting in the Duke’s interests, your next reservation relates to our motive, which you have incorrectly assumed to be extortion. Again, if we intended to extort you, the original message would have been the most effective. As you point out, this transcription could very easily be a forgery. If we intended to extort you, would we not have kept possession of the original? All we needed was confirmation of your plans and a way to get your attention.’

‘You have it,’ Austorga said.

‘Your final concern most likely relates to our competence. My first point in that regard relates to your own judgement in employing your private couriers. I assume you endeavour to select the very best, most trustworthy men available?’

Austorga nodded.

‘Then does not the fact that I got my hands on your message speak to our competence? I can assure you that your courier is safely on his way to deliver your note, completely oblivious to the fact that I ever saw it,’ Giura said.

Although he remained silent, Soren had to admit that he was impressed by that.

‘I will admit that is impressive,’ Austorga said, ‘but skill in thievery and code breaking is of little use for what the message hints at. How could you be of assistance to its author?’

Soren grinned at the way Austorga spoke in the hypothetical, not saying anything that could incriminate him. There was little to support them other than the inferences that could be drawn from their conduct thus far, but for a man with as much to lose as Austorga, his approach to them would be steeped in suspicion and caution.

‘I think I’ve done enough to demonstrate our intentions are not to do you harm, and that we both know I have more than enough reason to have you dragged to the Grey Tower if I wanted to, so I’ll cut to the core of the matter. You need to take aggressive action against the Duke. He’s not going to pay his loans, and you can’t let such a large debt be written off with no consequences for the debtor,’ Giura said.

Austorga remained silent.

‘We have our own reasons for wanting Amero dead—it’s pointless getting into them now—suffice it to say that is what we both desire. My colleague is one of the few men capable of achieving that aim.’

‘Your colleague’s ability is the only thing you haven’t given me reason to consider,’ Austorga said. His voice still revealed nothing. It was flat and calculating, no different now to when he was responding to the perceived threat.

‘You’re familiar with a man named Macchio Ferrata?’ Giura said, more as a statement than a question.

This grabbed Soren’s attention. How did Giura know about Ferrata? Then again, how did Giura know about most of the things he knew?

‘It seems you know that I am. Austorgas’ Banking House employed him to handle one or two delicate matters over the years.’

‘Well, Banneret Ferrata is no longer available for employment. Banneret Soren is the reason for that.’

Austorga’s eyes widened, and he nodded to Soren. ‘Really? That’s almost as impressive as you cracking our cypher, Banneret Intelligencier Giura. Might I ask how you did it?’

Soren said nothing, but tapped the pommel of his sword. He felt foolish having done it as soon as he did, but if he was being touted as a dangerous killer he felt he had to make some effort to keep up the image Giura was painting. He was still surprised by the extent of Giura’s knowledge and found it difficult to think of anything else.

‘What is it you suggest?’ Austorga said, returning his attention to Giura.

‘We use your resources and influence to put Banneret Soren in a position to strike at Amero. That should lead to as satisfactory a conclusion as can be hoped for.’

‘Why don’t I just have him poisoned, rather than trust two men whose existence I wasn’t even aware of before today.’

‘I realise, Grand Burgess, that you are used to having your way in a great many things. In this, you don’t have a choice. If the Duke so much as suspects your involvement in a plot against him, your name won’t do you any good. If you choose not to work with us on this, I would strongly recommend your next appointment be to book passage out of the Duchy, to somewhere very far away. As my colleague can attest, the Duke’s reach is long, and he doesn’t forget his enemies.’

Austorga drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes fixed on Giura. He switched his gaze to Soren and looked him up and down. ‘You think you can kill him? You said yourself what a fine swordsman he is.’

‘I can kill him,’ Soren said. ‘I just need to get close enough.’

‘How? A poisoned blade from the shadows?’

‘No,’ Soren said. ‘I won’t need poison.’