It's strange how the world organises itself after it's been upended. I half thought that the thousands of people in the crowd the clerics, the soldiers, the noblemen, the peasants and well, everybody, really would have gone completely mad. I wouldn't have blamed them.

A God was dead; worse, we had learned that the Gods were, for the most part, as small-minded and petty as we were, their natures aligned to the basest instincts of a people whose response to coming here as slaves was forever to seek out new masters. Maybe we were simply born to kneel. The crowds appeared to agree as they wallowed in the disquieting silence that filled the open air, shuffling from foot to foot, uncertain and scared, with no idea what might come next.

Actually, not everyone, I thought as I looked over at the daughter of my King.

Aline stood before the throngs, barely fourteen. She was just as afraid as the rest of us in fact, she was probably more afraid and yet it was she who had given us the chance to fight against the God, showing the rest of us how to rise in the face of fear.

It's just possible that there are wonders yet in this country that are worth protecting.

Someone in the front, a young nobleman, shouted out, 'The Queen stands before us!' He knelt down on one knee and bowed his head.

'The Queen!' another shouted, and he too knelt.

People began to cheer and shout Aline's title, and a wave passed through the crowds from front to back as men and women, the youngest and the very old, knelt before the girl I'd first met dirty and coughing in the ruins of a burned-down house in Rijou.

'The Queen!' shouted a wheezing Duke Erris of Phan.

'Oh, and now the Dukes show up,' Brasti said, pointing to a heavyset man further back in the crowd. He was not nearly so grandly dressed as I'd seen him on previous occasions, but he made up for it with his boisterous cheers of 'Aline the First!' Hadiermo, Iron Duke of Domaris had magically found his humility.

No doubt the two of them hoped that a show of enthusiasm might save their heads from the block when the time came for a reckoning.

I should have been happy in that moment: the Dukes would have no choice now; there would be no further resistance. The daughter of my King was standing amongst her people and they were kneeling before her. But somehow the sight made me empty inside.

You're just tired, I told myself. You've won. Stop complaining about it.

But even as people shouted and cheered for Aline, the emptiness remained. I couldn't spot Jillard, though I imagined he was somewhere close by, waiting to exact his due from me for my part in Tommer's death.

I was pulled from my morbid thoughts when Aline cried, 'Enough!' Her voice wasn't very loud, but when she raised her hand everyone became silent. 'Enough.'

Nervous whispers filled the crowd. Though they were thousands strong and we only a handful, I could almost hear their thoughts. Now we'll be punished. Now the new Queen will set examples of her enemies. Better keep low and quiet and hope she takes the next man and not me.

It would be her right. The Law allowed her the right to execute each and every one of them if she so chose. When she turned to look at me, I saw the temptation in her eyes. She'd been the target of murder and conspiracy every day of her life and that wasn't likely to end any time soon. How better to banish fear and pain than by killing those who brought it to you?

Then she nodded to me, as though I'd asked her a question.

'Why are you kneeling?' she asked the crowd.

The nobleman who'd done so first looked up. 'You are our Queen!' He said the words as if he'd just crowned her himself.

'One day,' she replied. 'Not today.'

'The Queen of our hearts, then,' the nobleman ventured, and others mumbled in enthusiastic agreement.

'Perhaps that too, one day,' Aline said. She looked around the crowd. 'It's not a job I ever wanted. Perhaps not one any of you would want me to have.'

That was too much for the young nobleman. 'We are your loyal servants! We are yours to command!'

'Servants,' Aline said. Abruptly, she strode into the crowd, walking through the kneeling masses. I thought Antrim might have a heart attack as he rushed to follow behind her. She stopped in front of an old man who was shaking as he kept one hand on the shaft of his short staff. 'Why do you suffer, Grandfather?' Aline asked.

'Forgive me, your Majesty,' the old man replied, his head still bowed. 'My knees ain't so good. They ache whe-'

Aline extended a hand and placed it under his chin. 'Then why are you kneeling if it hurts so?'

The old man's eyes went wide. 'Because . . . because we-'

'Rise,' she said.

For a moment I thought the old man might refuse, but his fear of disobeying her overcame his uncertainty about standing in her presence.

'Is that better?' Aline asked.

'It . . . yes, your Majesty. It don't hurt so bad once I'm off my knees.'

'Really?' she asked. 'Imagine that. I wonder if that's why the Greatcoats don't kneel.' She turned to gaze back at me. 'Is that why, First Cantor?'

'I've found that it's hard to stand for anything when you're on your knees,' I said.

'How odd. Perhaps it is time we all gave it a try.' Aline, daughter of Paelis, heir to the throne of Tristia, gave her first royal command.

'Rise,' she said.

'Am I wrong,' Allister asked, 'Or did the heir just overturn a thousand years of royal prerogative?'

'Sixteen hundred and twenty-seven,' Kest corrected. 'The first reference to the requirement to kneel before the monarch appears in the Ediacto Regiae Principe, though it's likely that the practice was common even before-'

'Kest?' Allister said.

'Yes?'

'Please shut up.'

Then necessity took over: people had to be moved, the injured treated, the dead buried. After a quick consultation with the Dukes, Antrim re-took command of the Aramor guardsmen present and they in turn took command of the other troops. If anyone had any sliver of a thought about resisting this, they gave no sign. Sometimes people just know when it's time to give up. Sometimes I wished they knew that more often.

The crowds, still in shock after Aline's sole command, dissipated gradually, many of them helping their fellows where they could, but some just stood and stared, and a few started crying bitterly maybe for their dead, or maybe for themselves as they began to realise all they'd given up or sold to get here. It would be a difficult return for them.

It was going to be a difficult return for all of us.

I leaned against my horse, Arsehole. We had left our mounts tethered outside the Busted Scales, but Arsehole had broken free somehow and made his way here, to me. His copper-coloured hide was covered in grey dust and I was trying to clean him off in a slow, haphazard way. He didn't seem to mind, even giving me an encouraging snort now and again. 'You're a damned good horse,' I said, and feebly brushed at his side. There were probably more important things I was supposed to be doing right then, but I was too exhausted to care.

'You really do cut an impressive sight, my love.' The voice was feminine but strong, soothing yet a little mischievous.

I looked over Arsehole's withers to see Ethalia except the eyes staring back at me were still brown instead of blue. The lips belonged to Ethalia, but the words were those of my wife.

'I've had something of a day,' I said.

She came closer and placed her palms against my cheeks. 'Perhaps if you didn't insist on throwing your life away at every opportunity, you would fare better. How many more times will you set your blade against the world, Falcio?'

Everything breaks if you hit it enough times. 'Until I save you,' I said, and felt the tears slipping down my cheeks and onto her fingers.

She shook her head sadly. 'Ah, Falcio . . . That's not a story that can be told. Don't you understand yet? I'm the one who saves you.'

The tears were flowing faster now. 'Every time,' I managed. 'Every time.'

She smiled then, as if we'd just made a beginning: a new start for me, for her, for both of us. Only life doesn't work that way. 'You have to go now, Aline,' I said.

She pulled away and stared at me for a long time. 'Husband, when did you become so very full of useless principle?' She waved a hand. 'You might fool all these others but you and I both know you weren't at all like this when I was alive. Or perhaps you were, but you were also a little selfish, a little too easily cowed, more than a little lazy.' She smiled. 'And now, here you are, this . . . hero. Is there nothing left of the foolish young man I married?'

'Silly woman,' I said. 'I can be more than one thing.'

I expected her to laugh, but she didn't. Instead her face grew deadly serious. 'Ethalia doesn't love you, Falcio. Whatever you had before, it left when she took the Sainthood.'

'I know that. But it's her life, and her choice.'

'It was also her choice to give herself over to me she knew the consequences, and she accepted them willingly, without reservation. Ethalia has given us this chance, to have the life together that was denied us.'

'She has,' I agreed. I took a deep breath and held it, hoping somehow it would strengthen my resolve. 'And now you have to go.'

Aline sighed as she leaned in and whispered, 'Very well.' Then she smiled. 'I will settle for one kiss, for old times' sake. Let me feel my husband's lips on mine this last time.'

I wanted the taste of that kiss more than all the wine in the world. I wanted that one moment, a tiny fragment of her love to carry with me for the rest of my days hadn't I earned it?

But . . . 'They aren't your lips,' I said, before I could fall into that abyss from which I would never want to climb out. 'Ethalia would not want this.'

Aline groaned. 'Really? You think she would begrudge you this one tiny thing? Is she so selfish a woman as that?'

'She isn't selfish at all, and that's why we can't do this.'

Aline removed her hands from my cheeks and stood silently for a time, giving me a chance to change my mind, but when she finally said, 'As you wish,' the eyes staring back at me were Ethalia's, and she turned and walked away without saying anything else.

I stayed there a long time, wallowing in my own loss, but eventually I had to move. I made my way into the ruins of the castle. There were still debts to be paid.

The steps below the wreck of the seventh tower were crumbled in places, but there was enough of the staircase left to reach the basement. The door to Aramor's deathhouse was open.

'I knew you would come,' Jillard, Duke of Rijou said. He stood over the body of his son, his back to me.

'This is a bad place to keep him,' I said, looking around. 'The ceiling may not hold.'

Jillard ignore the warning. 'Did you come to pay the debt?' he asked.

'I did.'

The Duke of Rijou shook his head several times, like an old man suffering from a palsy. 'Then come back tomorrow, or next week. Come and see me a year's hence, in Rijou, where I will take you down to my dungeons and we can pay our debts to each other.'

I walked to the other side of the table and looked down at the boy who'd given his life, and in exchange, helped to make a God. I wanted to tell Jillard how I'd met Valour at the bridge, saving a drowning cat, but I didn't think it would ease his pain, not yet.

'I could have you killed,' he said, conversationally, no ire in the words, only fact. 'I imagine you must think you're invulnerable to such things, with the luck you've had. But I promise you, I could have it done.'

'You've tried on more than one occasion, your Grace,' I pointed out.

He looked up and I saw the dark circles under his eyes. 'On those occasions, I was not quite so invested.'

I understood his pain, and if anything, it made him more human. But even I have my limits when it comes to being threatened. 'If there is some price you expect from me for Tommer's death, speak it.'

He nodded, as if this had been the question all along. 'I have to take his body to be buried, properly, in his home. That will take some time. There are arrangements to be made, political matters to be attended to. Of course, the country will be in jeopardy again by then and no doubt killing you would only make matters worse. So I will have to wait.'

'If you're waiting until the country is safe, you might be waiting a long time.'

'I know,' he said, 'but I'm a patient man. It will be years, perhaps decades. The world needs us as we are, you and me, doing the things we do. By the time the country has met its future, you may not even be alive. But if you are, if, when all this is done, you still draw breath, I will send for you. Will you come?'

I looked down at Tommer's face, at all that promise of youth and courage taken from the world. 'I will,' I said.

Jillard made no acknowledgement of my willingness to make myself his prisoner; it felt as if we were merely going over the items in a long-agreed contract. 'You will come in secret, telling no one. I will choose the time and I will choose the place and you'll come to me.' He opened his mouth to continue, but then stopped, and I saw the pain twisting inside him. Then he went on, 'You will give up whatever weapons you have with you. You will give up your coat. My men will bring you to a room and chain you there, and I will come.'

'Torturing me won't-'

He cut me off. 'Then, Falcio val Mond, First Cantor of the Greatcoats, I will tell you about my boy, about my Tommer. I will tell you about the look of wonder on his face the first time he opened his eyes, smiling, not crying as other babes do. I will tell you about the way he stood up and walked, long before other boys. I will tell you about the silly things he said and the strange questions he asked. I will tell you all of this until your heart shatters in two, Falcio val Mond. I will tell you this so that you might know one tenth of the pain I will feel every day from now on. And when I am done . . .'

I waited for him to finish but he couldn't seem to find the breath. This, I understood, was a torture for him greater than he had ever known.

'Say it,' I urged him.

He studied me, then said, 'When I am done, you will tell me the stories of the Greatcoats you heard as a boy the ones the minstrel, Bal Armidor, told Tommer. You will tell me the tales that made Tommer the way he was, that led him to the death he chose. You will tell me this so that in my final days I can try to become one tenth the man my boy deserved for a father.'

'Marked.'

We shook hands then, though there was no need. Jillard was a monster, a master manipulator, everything I loathed about the Dukes. I, in turn, was everything he hated about the Greatcoats. But no man is all one thing; none of us are pure in our beliefs or our devotions. We are all bound by the frailties of our humanity, some of which feed our hatred, some of which, very occasionally, make us want to be something better.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX.

On The Eve Of Your Last Duel