“I admire your sister and always have. Admire her very much. So much energy, so much enthusiasm for everything, so dedicated. You—” Petri snorted derisively. “You always wanted it all given to you on a platter. Never wanted to work at it. Never did anything to deserve what you’ve got. She had to work every step of the way, fight for everything against those who laughed at her for her efforts. The guild lets in women, trains them, pays lip service to all things being equal, but only because that ancient clockwork marionette in the courtyard is a woman and the guild follows its traditions, because the Clockwork God has spoken. But how many women ever get their master’s? Five perhaps in the last ten years? How many are allowed to try even? They trot out all the excuses they can, and people believe it. They laughed at her behind her back, ‘let’ her win, made bets on when she’d fail, and I know you ran at least one book on that, dear, concerned, brotherly Vocho. Showed them, though, didn’t she? Showed you too, and I bet it hurt when Eneko took her on as his apprentice. When she got her master’s before you, not because she was as good as the rest but because she was better. Did you think about pushing her into the river again? Or maybe off the walls? Just so you could be the golden one? Is that why you started pushing the rules in the arena? Is that why you started fixing duels? Oh yes, I know all about that, and the books you run on them, and paying men to lose and skimming off the top on jobs as well, taking credit for work that’s not yours, paying people to make up songs about you just to rub it in that you’re better. So perhaps you’d like to fuck off, brother dearest, and let me court your sister without your petulant face in the background. And then perhaps I won’t tell her about how she really ended up in that river, or how much money you lost betting against her in duels, or any of the rest of it. Perhaps I won’t tell her what a shit of a brother she looks to, loves, defends, for god’s sake. What do you say?”
Vocho gaped like a ten-pint drunk asked a simple question. He wanted to say it was all lies, that he was a good brother, like he always told himself. Lied to himself. And he was a good brother, sometimes. It’s just that other times he wasn’t himself. Other times he seemed to watch himself from outside, banging on the window and telling himself not to do those things. And when he came back to himself, he promised never to do them again, lied to himself that it wasn’t that bad, he wasn’t that bad…
“I’ll take that as agreement then,” Petri said, sounding a thousand miles away. “Do have a good day.”
Vocho stood for a good long while, not noticing the sun come up or the other duellists staring at him as he watched the water flow under the bridge.
Chapter Nineteen
Petri tried to let nothing show on his face, but he wasn’t sure he managed it. Sabates’ gaze was unnerving him, along with the news. Kacha was in the Shrive by good or ill luck, and only now did he see exactly what he’d signed up to, just how far Licio was prepared to go – and expect him to go.
The king sat at his grand desk in his Reyes house. The Ikaran banker, a grey hunched sort of man here to see his investment rewarded, blinked in the dim light from a smoking lamp. Alicia was here too, ice cold in silver grey but with mischief in her twitch of a smile. And Sabates, always Petri’s eyes came back to Sabates, sitting in a dark corner watching. All Petri could think of was his father, of the way he’d come apart as though made of dry sand. And a magician did it. Had he deserved it? Had any of it been true? Those were the thoughts that had begun to plague him – that every man and woman was false, that the only truth he had was what he’d experienced, and even then he couldn’t be sure.
“Well, that saves us the trouble of finding her,” Licio was saying, rubbing his hands together. “With her to use, we’ll get Vocho doing what we